— William K said he stopped.
My mother sighed and sat next to me.
— Then I don't know, Achak.
— Are they coming again?
— I don't think so.
— Will they come here? To our part of town?
I harbored the dim hope that the Baggara would attack only the outskirts of Marial Bai, that they would not attack the home of an important man like my father. But they had attacked the home of my father already.
My mother began drawing on my back, triangles within circles. She had been doing this since I could remember, to calm me in my bed when I could not sleep. She hummed quietly while rubbing my back in slow circles. Every other time she circled, using her forefinger, she made a triangle between my waist and shoulders.
— Don't worry, she said.-The SPLA will be here soon. Circle, circle, triangle within.
— With guns?
— Yes. They have guns just like the horsemen. Circle, circle, triangle within.
— Are there as many of us as there are Baggara?
— There are just as many of our soldiers. Or more. I laughed and sat up.
— We'll kill them! We'll kill all of them! If the Dinka have guns we'll kill all the Baggara like they're animals!
I wanted to see it happen. I wanted it more than anything.
— It won't be a battle! I laughed.-It'll end in seconds.
— Yes, Achak. Now sleep. Close your eyes.
I wanted to see the rebels shoot the men who had killed Joseph Kol, William K's brother who had done nothing. I closed my eyes and pictured the Arabs falling from their horses in explosions of blood. If I was near, I would stand over them, beating them with rocks. In my vision there were so many of them, at least one hundred, the Arabs on horseback, and they were all dead. They were shot by the rebels and now William K and I were crushing their faces with our feet. It was glorious.
In the morning I found Moses. He was living with his mother and an uncle in his uncle's half-burned hut. Moses was unsure where his father had gone. He expected them to return any minute, though his uncle did not seem to know his whereabouts. Moses thought that his father was a soldier now.
— For which army? The government or the rebels? I asked.
Moses wasn't sure.
Moses and I wandered through the cool darkness of the schoolhouse. It was empty, the walls punctured by bullet holes. We put our fingers in one, two, three-so many that we gave up counting. Moses fit his fingers, bigger than mine, into five holes at once. The schoolhouse was abandoned. Nothing was happening anywhere in Marial Bai. The market now was a few shops only; for substantial goods, one had to travel to Aweil. That trip could be undertaken by older women only. Any man traveling north to Aweil would be detained, jailed, eliminated.
Most of the men of Marial Bai were gone. The men who remained were very old or very young. Everyone between fourteen and forty was gone.
We watched two ostriches run after each other, pecking and clawing. Moses threw a rock toward them and they stopped, shifting their attention to us. The ostriches were known to the village and were considered tame, but we had been told that they could kill any boy quickly, could disembowel someone our size in seconds. We ducked behind a half-burned tree, its trunk scorched black.
— Ugly birds, Moses said, and then was reminded of something.-Did you hear Joseph was shot?
I told him that I had heard.
— It went through him here, Moses said, and then, as William K had done, he pushed his finger deep into the hollow of my throat.
CHAPTER 9
Do you want to know when I left that place forever, Michael?
The day was bright, the ceiling of the sky raised high. My father was gone, in Wau for business. This was only one week after we had returned to Marial Bai. Again I was feeding the fire when my mother looked up. She was boiling water and again I had brought kindling. I saw her eyes looking over my shoulder.
Tell me, where is your mother, Michael? Have you ever seen her terrified? No child should see this. It is the end of childhood, when you see your mother's face slacken, her eyes dead. When she is defeated by simply seeing the threat approaching. When she does not believe she can save you.
— Oh my lord, she said. Her shoulders collapsed. She splashed hot water on my hand. I squealed for a moment but then I heard the rumbling.
— What is it? I asked.
— Come! she whispered. Her eyes darted around the compound.-Where are your sisters?
I had not seen what my mother had seen. But there was the sound. A vibration from under our feet. I looked for my sisters, but I knew they were by the river. My brothers were grazing the cattle. Wherever they were, they were either safe from the rumbling or had already been overtaken by it.
— Come! she said again, and pulled me with her. We ran. I held her hand, but I was falling behind. She slowed her running and pulled me up by my arm. She ran, jostling me, finally arranging me over her shoulder. I held my breath and hoped she would stop. It was then, over her shoulder, that I saw what she had seen.
It was like a shadow made by a low cloud. The shadow moved quickly over the land. The rumbling was horses. I saw them now, men on horses, bringing the land into darkness. We slowed and my mother spoke.
— Where are you hiding? she breathed.
— Come to the woods, said a woman's voice. I was placed on the ground.
— Hide in the grass, the woman told us.-From there we can run to Palang.
We crouched in the grass with the woman, ancient and smelling of meat. I realized we were near my aunt's home, on the way to the river. We were well hidden, in the shade and amid a dense thicket. From our hiding place, we watched the storm overtake the town. All was dust. Some horses carried two men. They rode camels, dragged wheeled carts behind them. I heard the crack of gunfire behind us. Horses burst through the grass to the right and left. They were coming from all sides, converging in the center of the town. This is how the murahaleen took a town, Michael. They encircled it and then squeezed all within.
— There were only twenty last time, the woman said. There were easily two hundred, three hundred, or more now.
— This is the end, my mother said.-They mean to kill us all. Achak I am so sorry. But we will not make it through this day.
— No, no, the woman scolded.-They want the cattle. The cattle and the food. Then they're gone. We'll stay here.
At that moment, the shooting began. The guns were like those the government army carried, huge and black. The sky broke open with gunfire. The pop-pop-pop came from every corner of the village.
— Oh lord. Oh lord.
Now the woman was crying.
— Shh! my mother said, grabbing for the woman's hand and finally finding it. Now quieter, she soothed the woman.-Shhhhh.
A horse carrying two men galloped past. The second man was riding backward, his gun aiming left and right.-Allah Akhbar! he roared.
A dozen voices answered him.-Allah Akhbar!
A man lit a torch and tossed it onto the roof of the hospital. Another man, riding on the back of a great black horse, prepared some kind of small round weapon and threw it into the Episcopalian church. An explosion splintered the walls and eliminated the roof.
When I thought to look for her, I saw the horsemen circling Amath's hut. Four horses carrying six men. They guarded the hut from every side and then threw a torch. The roof smoldered first and then blackened. Fire finally overtook it and leapt upwards first, then crept down. Brown smoke billowed. A figure emerged, a young man, his hands surrendering. Guns popped from the perimeter and the man's chest burst red. He fell, and no one else left the hut. The screams began soon after.