2006 - What is the What (17 page)

—Were the Arabs afraid of the boys in your town? he asked.

—No.

—Did they shoot them?

—Yes.

—So why do you think the Arabs will be afraid of so many of us? Don’t be stupid. They don’t fear our brothers or fathers. If they find us we’ll be taken or killed. We’re not safer, Achak, just the opposite. We’re never safe. No one is easier to kill than boys like us.

Michael, as I have said, I am sure your story is a sad one. I will not discount that. I do not think the man and woman who left you here are your parents. So where, then, are your mother and father? It cannot be a happy story. But you are clothed, and you are well-fed, and you have your health and teeth and surely your own bed.

But these boys were not so blessed. I did not hear many of their stories, because we all assumed we had come from similar circumstances. It was not interesting to us to hear more of violence and loss. I will tell you only Deng’s story, or allow Deng to tell it as he told it to me, as we walked in the early evening through a more tropical land than Marial Bai was at that time of year. We were already very far from home.

Deng’s village was not much different from mine. He had been at cattle camp, a few miles away, when the murahaleen had come. The shooting began, older boys fell where they stood and soon the cattle camp was overtaken.

—I ran, Deng said.—I ran back to the town, thinking this would be best, but this is where the horsemen were headed. It was a stupid place to go. I ran toward my house but it was already on fire. The Arabs love to burn houses. Did you see them burning houses?

Deng was always asking me these questions.

—I ran to the school, he continued.—It was just a simple building, cement and with a corrugated roof, but it seemed safer, and I knew it wouldn’t burn because our teacher had always taught us that, that the way it was built would prevent it from burning. So I ran to the school and I hid there; I stayed in the school the whole day. I crouched in the locker where they keep the supplies.

It seemed a silly place to hide, given that they were usually looking for children to steal. But I didn’t say this to Deng. I only asked if the Arabs came looking for people in the school.

—Yes they did! Of course they did. But I was hiding in the cabinet, a metal cabinet. I was in the lower shelf, and I put a sisal bag around me. I was under the bottom shelf covered in the sisal bag, and they didn’t see me, though a man did open the locker. I stayed there for two days, as they burned the town.

I asked Deng how he could stay in such a small space for so long.

—Oh I’m ashamed to say that I wet my pants that time. I shat at that moment and I still can’t understand why he didn’t smell me! I’m still ashamed that I shat in those pants. And I walked in those pants for many days, Achak. Those same pants. I stayed in the locker for two days. I didn’t once come out. I saw the day come and the night come through the keyhole in the locker. Twice I saw the day come and go. There were sounds of horses and the Arabs for all that time. Men were sleeping in the school and I could hear them.

—They didn’t open the locker again?

—They did! They opened it many times, Achak. But this is where my waste was not my enemy, but my friend! Every time they opened the door they gagged, smelling the waste I’d made! It made me so happy. I was punishing the Arab bastards with my waste and it made me proud. Ten times they opened that locker and every time they gagged and they slammed the locker door closed again and I was safe. They kicked the door every time. Those stupid bastards. They thought an animal had died in there.

I was amazed by the cursing that Deng knew how to do.

—Eventually the Arabs left the school. I didn’t hear them anymore so I opened the door slowly. I was so sore from sitting like that and from having no water or food.

When I got out there was no one in the school but there were men outside. Most had left, but some had stayed. Some men on camels and some soldiers. I don’t know why they were there, but they were living in our houses, those they had not burned. Two were living in my grandmother’s house. It made me very sick to see them coming out of her house as if it were theirs. I hid in the school until night and then I left. It wasn’t hard. I was only one boy and the night was very dark. So I left my town and ran and ran and then I was far enough away that I felt safe. I ran until the morning and found a village where two Dinka men took me in and fed me. They were scared when they first heard me. I came out of the grass and one of them raised a gun to me. He had a small gun, one that fit in his hand. Like this. Deng pointed his small bony finger at me.

—The men were scared but then saw it was only me, a boy. Then they smelled me. They yelled at me for some time about my smell. I apologized. They took me to the stream and they pushed me in. They kicked me and told me to stay there until I was clean. I took off my clothes and scrubbed them and watched all my waste become part of the river.

The funny thing, Michael, is that Deng still smelled—even when he was telling this story about his smell. He truly smelled awful, and the stench could not be cleansed from his clothing. But I should say that we all smelled; it was almost impossible to separate one smell from the other.

—I went with these men for some time, Deng continued.—I didn’t know where we were going but I felt so much better being with two able men. But we were hiding all the time. The men were scared of every sound and avoided all people. I asked them why and they said they were afraid of Arabs and soldiers. But they also ran from other Dinka. We walked at night and when we came to a village where there were people, they would tell me to sneak into the village and steal food. I would crawl to a hut and take some nuts or meat or anything I could find. One time I took a goat. I lured the goat into the forest with a mango. It was the men’s idea. They said take that goat and lure it with the mango. I had stolen the mango the night before. So I did this and it worked. The goat came to us and they killed the goat with a stone and we ate some of the goat that night and kept the rest. The men were very good at these ideas. They had many ideas and knew a lot of tricks. It was working, my partnership with these men, until we came upon a town that had been captured by the SPLA. My partners immediately turned away from the town and were sneaking away, back into the brush, when we encountered a rebel soldier who seemed to be patrolling the border of the town. The soldier looked like the men. He started asking them questions. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Kapoeta? Who is that boy? Things like that. I think the soldier knew these men with me. The soldier told the men to wait there, while he went to get his other men. The soldier turned to go back to the camp and that’s when one of the men stuck a knife in his back. Just put his knife right there. Deng pointed to the middle of my back.

—It went in very easily. I was surprised. And the SPLA man just fell forward silently and that was the end of him. Then we were running again. We ran and hid that night and sometime in the night I figured out that these men were supposed to be in the SPLA. They had been rebels and then quit and you’re not allowed to quit. If you quit you can be killed by anyone. Have you heard this?

I had not heard this.

—It was then that I decided that I had to leave these men. But the problem was that I was sure that the same thing would happen to me. They were afraid of being shot by the SPLA for leaving, and I was afraid of being killed by these men if I left. They seemed very good at killing people. It was so strange, Achak. I’m so confused. Are you confused?

I said that I too was confused.

—So we walked more and I waited for a chance to run from them. After eight days together, we were walking on the road and I saw a truck. The men ran into the woods and waited for it to pass. When the truck got close I saw that it had rebels on it. This gave me an idea. I jumped out and ran to the truck. I knew the deserters wouldn’t shoot me because then the rebels would find them. So I ran to the truck and yelled for them to stop. They stopped and lifted me up. I sat in the truck with all the rebels. It was very scary at first because they all had guns. They were very tired and they looked mean and like they hated me. But I stayed quiet and because I was quiet, they liked me. I rode with them to another village and they let me stay with them. I was a rebel, Achak! I lived at their camp for weeks, staying with a man named Malek Kuach Malek. He was a commander of the SPLA. He was very important. He had a big scar here.

Deng drew a line with his finger from my temple to my ear.

—He said it was from a bomb. He became my father. He said I would be a soldier soon, that he was going to train me. I became his assistant. I fetched water for him and cleaned his sunglasses and turned his radio on and off. He liked to tell me to turn it on instead of doing it himself. Then we would listen to the rebel radio together, and sometimes the BBC World News. He was a good father to me, and I was able to eat the same food he, a commander, ate. I thought I would just be his son forever, Achak. I was happy to live with him as long as I could.

The thought of staying in one place seemed very appealing to me that day.

—Then one day the government army came. Malek was not at home when I heard the tank come. All the rebels scattered and got into position to fight and a second later the tank burst through the trees. Everything exploded and I just ran. I ran alone and ran until I got to a truck that was burned. It was just this truck that had been burned out. So I hid in the truck that night until I didn’t hear any more guns. In the morning I saw no one. Malek was gone, the rebels were gone and the government soldiers were gone. So I walked in the direction I thought the rebels would go. And eventually I found a village that had not been attacked and I met a woman there who was very kind and who was going to Wau. So I got on a bus with this woman. I was planning to go to Wau to live there with this woman. She said it would be safe there, and that I could be her son. So I got on the bus and we drove for a time and I was asleep. Then I was woken by yelling. The bus was stopped. I looked out the window and it was rebels. There were ten of them, with guns, and they were yelling at the driver. They made everyone get off the bus. They made everyone explain where they were going. Then they took—

—Where did you get that shirt?

Dut had found his way back to the end of the line near us, and took an interest in Deng. He was amused by Deng’s shirt.

—My father gave it to me, Deng said.—He got it in Wau.

—Do you know what that shirt is worn for?

—No, Deng said.

Deng knew Dut was laughing at his shirt.

—My father said it was a very high-quality shirt. Dut smiled and put his arm around Deng’s shoulder.

—It’s a shirt they call a tuxedo shirt, son. It’s worn when people get married. You’re wearing the shirt of a man getting married.

Dut laughed with a snort.—But I have never seen a pink one, he said, and laughed loudly.

Deng did not laugh. It was cruel of Dut to say that, and, realizing this, he tried to brighten the mood.—What a good group we have here! he yelled to all of us.—You really are an exceptional group of walkers. Now keep walking. We have to walk till dark. There’s a village we’ll reach by nightfall and we’ll get some food there.

I forgot then that Deng had been telling me his story, and I forgot to ask him to finish it. Every boy had a story like this, with many places they thought they might stay, many people who helped them but who disappeared, many fires and battles and betrayals. But I never heard the end of Deng’s story and have always wondered about it.

It was strange land we passed through. We saw fields that had been scorched, goats disemboweled and headless. We saw the tracks of horses and trucks, beautiful bullet casings in their wake. I had never walked so long in one day. We had not stopped since the morning and we had eaten nothing. What water we had been allowed we shared from one jerry can that Dut had brought and which we took turns carrying.

We had walked all day when we came upon a bustling village I had never seen. It was a perfect village. Everywhere people moved as we used to move in Marial Bai. The women carried kindling and water on their heads, the men sat in the small marketplace playing dominoes and drinking wine. The village seemed utterly untouched by any conflict at all. I followed the group into the center of the town.

—Sit down, everyone, Dut said, and we sat.—Stay here. Do not get up. Do not bother anyone. Do not move.

Dut went off into the village. Women walked by us, slowing for a few moments and then walking on. A dog trailed them and sniffed its way to where we sat. Its fur was short and spotted, strangely colored, almost blue in some areas.

—Blue dog! Deng said and the dog came to him, licking his face and then plunging its nose between Deng’s legs.—Blue dog! The blue dog likes us, Achak. Look at the blue dog and its strange spots.

Deng scratched the dog, which truly did seem to be colored blue, behind its ears and soon blue dog was on its back and Deng was rubbing its tummy with great intensity. The dog’s legs jerked this way and that. It was strange to be stopped, resting in a village I had never seen, petting a happy blue dog.

A group of older boys approached us. The largest of them immediately chased the dog off and stood over Deng and me, so close that I had to look straight up to see the underside of his wide face. He was wearing brilliant white shoes. They looked like clouds, as if they had never touched the earth.

—Where are you going? he demanded.

—Bilpam, I said.

—Bilpam? What’s Bilpam?

I realized I did not know.—It’s a big town many days away, I guessed. I had no idea what size it was or how long we would be walking but I wanted our walk to seem definite and important.

—Why? the boy with the cloud shoes demanded.

—Our villages were burned, Deng said.

I did not want to tell this boy about what had happened to Marial Bai. Seeing this village, unaffected by any fighting, I was ashamed anew that we had not fought better against the Arabs, that we had allowed our homes to be burned while this village was unharmed. It was not the end of the world at all. Perhaps, I thought, the Arabs had ravaged only the towns where the men were the weakest.