To the lives lost in the Second Sudanese Civil War

After months of walking countless miles through the deserts of Sudan, I finally reached the Itang refugee camp, just on the border of Ethiopia and Sudan. I walk through the gate in the fence and up to a desk.










“Name and age please! Quick!” a man with a name tag hollers. “C’mon!”
“Diallo Abara. I’m 12.”



“Thank you. Now move, other people have to check in”


I walked to yet another line to be checked for illness. After I waited for what felt like hours, I got a bag with clothes and a little bit of food. I slept in a little tent with a few others. I was only there for a week when I heard rumors starting about an uproar in Ethiopia and people trying to destroy the Ethiopian government. I was very confused but I still stayed at Itang. Little did I know, that would be one of the worst choices.




It was a calm morning, the tarps to the tents slowly ruffled in the light breeze like a wave. It was only 7 o’clock, but that didn’t stop the sun from beating down. The morning haze was still in the air, when I heard a booming voice over the intercom. “Attention all refugees and aid workers. Due to safety concerns, the camp will be closing. Permanently.” Chaos begins to take over the crowd of people. I look toward the entrance. Hundreds of thousands of people are flooding out the gates. I stand frozen, not knowing what to do. The next thing I remember is running, dodging bullets, bombs, tree branches, and rocks.



























































The only thing I can focus on is surviving. The group ahead of me comes to an abrupt stop and I run into the person in front of me. I can see people falling and short, sharp specks of flames being launched into the air. Bullets. I couldn’t hear anything around me, though. I think, What if this is the end? Will my family ever know that I was out there, waiting for them? Are they in heaven, or are they too waiting for me to come to them? As these thoughts race through my head, I hear splashing and screaming. I push and shove my way to the front, soon realizing that wasn’t the best choice. My feet slowly became coated in mud and the screaming was soon drowned out by running water. Where am I? I asked myself. Then I remembered learning about this river that borders Sudan and Ethiopia in school. Oh, what is it called? I tried to remember. All I knew was it was known for the strong currents and crocodiles!
I saw the clear blue water in front of me turn to a cloud of hazy red. The crocodiles’ tails were rapidly flicking in the water. A man next to me let out a scream before collapsing into the river. More red water appeared as his head disappeared under the water. I realized that I could either wait on land and be shot and killed or attempt to cross the river, dodging the bullets and the fierce currant. Trying to make up my mind, I am pushed into the water. I plunge into the water head first. I come up gasping for breath, rapidly paddling and splashing. I am only able to make it halfway. I was dodging the crocodiles and the bullets when I saw a boy spring out of the water, take a few breaths, and dive back down. He was a pretty strong swimmer, so I paddled over to him. I try to grab his arm but I can’t, so I grab his neck and dive under the water with him. He squirms but I hold on. He claws and whacks and pushes me, but I still hold on. I was running out of air so I lifted my head up and took a big breath of air and…


AHHHHHHH
Oh no!




















BOOM!




















My head starts to pound and throb. I am still holding onto the boy, but I can feel him slipping out of my grip. I can see him in front of me but he seems… blurry? He slips out of my hands and I slowly float to the surface. I try to move my head but I can’t. I try to move my body but can’t. I feel numb, like I’m frozen. I move my eyes around in a panic, trying to figure out what is happening. That’s when I see a patch of red stained water coming from behind me. I wonder if it is me, or someone else. I can’t move my hands or legs. I still cannot breathe. I came to the realization that this was it. This is the end. My family never found me. I never found them. I hope they know that I was trying to find them. I hope they don’t keep trying to find me, and just realize that I’m gone. I’ll be watching my family from heaven. I love them with all my heart. It hurts me to think I will never see them again.











My eyes shut and I feel a little tired. Maybe all of this walking, screaming, running, and swimming is getting to me. I regain feeling in my body and I feel lighter, almost as if I’m soaring high above the clouds. I let my muscles relax and let my head rest as I picture what it would be like to be above the clouds. It would be perfect. You could see everything. I wonder if you could see more than the time my sister and I snuck out of the hut and walked to the end of the road. It was beautiful, with the way the sun rose just between 2 hills, creating this lovely image of pink, yellow, and orange! We sat there for hours just watching the sunrise.
Oh, I’ll miss my family. They were the closest friends I had, my favorite people, but most of all, they were family, the people I have spent all my life with. I’ll miss the way my sister, Zuri, would always let out a little laugh just before she told me a joke, or the way my mother would always greet my with a bowl of milk and a hug when I returned from my school, or the times when my father would go on long, long journeys to get new cattle or fruits and then later return with gifts. But most importantly, I’ll miss being with them. Whenever we would go somewhere we would always give each other hugs before we left. I wish I could give them a hug now.
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To the lives lost in the Second Sudanese Civil War

After months of walking countless miles through the deserts of Sudan, I finally reached the Itang refugee camp, just on the border of Ethiopia and Sudan. I walk through the gate in the fence and up to a desk.










“Name and age please! Quick!” a man with a name tag hollers. “C’mon!”
“Diallo Abara. I’m 12.”



“Thank you. Now move, other people have to check in”


I walked to yet another line to be checked for illness. After I waited for what felt like hours, I got a bag with clothes and a little bit of food. I slept in a little tent with a few others. I was only there for a week when I heard rumors starting about an uproar in Ethiopia and people trying to destroy the Ethiopian government. I was very confused but I still stayed at Itang. Little did I know, that would be one of the worst choices.




It was a calm morning, the tarps to the tents slowly ruffled in the light breeze like a wave. It was only 7 o’clock, but that didn’t stop the sun from beating down. The morning haze was still in the air, when I heard a booming voice over the intercom. “Attention all refugees and aid workers. Due to safety concerns, the camp will be closing. Permanently.” Chaos begins to take over the crowd of people. I look toward the entrance. Hundreds of thousands of people are flooding out the gates. I stand frozen, not knowing what to do. The next thing I remember is running, dodging bullets, bombs, tree branches, and rocks.






































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- Excessive Violence
- Harassment
- Offensive Pictures
- Spelling & Grammar Errors
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"I am a Lost Boy"

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