Some boys began to eat immediately. Others did not know if they should wait to cook the meat. It was morning, and many boys were not sure how long they would stay here, with the elephant, and if they would be allowed to take meat with them.
The SPLA soldiers had started a large fire. Dut ordered five boys to gather wood in order to grow the flames. Kur started another fire on the other side of the elephant, and we who had not already eaten our meat roasted it on sticks.
The soldiers were pleased to see us eating and they talked to us in a friendly manner. I sat next to Deng, watching him eat. It felt so good to see Deng eating, though Deng ate without smiling, and did not enjoy the meat as the others did. His eyes were yellowed at the rims, his mouth cracked and spotted white. But he ate as much as he could. He ate until he could eat no more.
When the eating was done, we took full notice of the group of rebels sitting around a giant heglig tree. We gathered around the men and stared.
Dut quickly interfered.
— Give them room to breathe, boys! You're like mosquitoes. We took a few steps back but then slowly closed in again. The men smiled, appreciating the attention.
— We had some trouble in Gok Arol Kachuol, Dut said.
— What sort of trouble? one of the rebels asked.
Dut brought one of the injured boys forward. His leg had been cut with a spear.
— Who did this? the rebel demanded.
The man was named Mawein, and he was suddenly standing, enraged. Dut explained what had happened, that we had walked peacefully to the village, had been refused food and then chased from the town by men throwing spears. He left out the part involving the theft of the nuts, and no boys thought it necessary to bring it up. We were filled with pride and anticipation, watching Mawein's anger grow.
— They did this to Red Army boys? Boys with no weapons? Dut could taste the revenge and added to their sins.-They chased us for half a day. They wanted no rebels. They called us rebels and cursed the SPLA.
Mawein laughed.-This chief will see us soon. Was it the man with the pipe?
— Yes, Dut said.-Many of the men had pipes.
— We know this place. Tomorrow we'll visit this village and discuss with them the treatment of the Red Army boys.
— Thank you, Mawein, Dut said. He had adopted a tone of great reverence. Mawein nodded to him.
— Now eat some more food, he said.-Eat while you can.
We ate while staring at the men. Each soldier had around him twenty boys who ate without taking their eyes from him. The men seemed huge, the biggest men we had seen in months. They were very healthy, their muscles carved and their faces confident. These were the men who could fight the murahaleen or the government army. The men embodied all of our rage and spoke to every hope we could conjure.
— Are you winning the war? I asked.
— Which war is that, jaysh al-ahmar?
I paused a moment.-What is that word you used?
— Jaysh al-ahmar.
— What does that mean?
— Dut, you don't teach these boys anything?
— These boys are not yet jaysh al-ahmar, Mawein. They're very young.
— Young? Look at some of these kids. They're ready to fight! These are soldiers! Look at those three.
He pointed to three of the older boys, still cooking meat over the fire.
— They're tall, yes, but very young. The same age as these here.
— We'll see about that, Dut.
— Are you winning the war, Mawein? Deng tried.-The war against the murahaleen?
Mawein looked to Dut and then back at Deng.
— Yes, boy. We are winning that war. But the war is against the government of Sudan. You know this, don't you?
As many times as Dut explained it to me, it still confused me. Our villages were being attacked by the murahaleen, but the rebels left the villages unattended to fight elsewhere, against the government army. It was baffling for me then, and was for many years to come.
— You want to hold it? Mawein said, indicating his gun. I did want to hold it, very much.
— Sit down. It's very heavy for you.
I sat down and Mawein made some adjustments to the gun and then rested it on my lap. I worried that it might be very hot but when it rested on my bare legs it was very heavy but cool to the touch.
— Heavy, right? Try carrying that all day, jaysh al-ahmar.
— What does that mean, jaysh al-ahmar? I whispered. I knew that Dut didn't want us to know the answer to this question.
— That's you, boy. It means Red Army. You're the Red Army.
Mawein smiled and I smiled. At that moment, I liked the idea of being part of an army, of being worthy of a warrior's nickname. I ran my hands over the surface of the gun. It was a very strange shape, I thought. It looked like nothing I could think of, with its points everywhere, its arms going every direction. I had to look over it carefully to remember which side the bullets exited. I put my finger into the barrel.
— It's so small, the opening, I said.
— The bullets are not wide. But they don't need to be big. They're very sharp and fly fast enough to cut through steel. You want to see a bullet?
I said I did. I had seen casings, but had never held an unfired bullet.
Mawein sifted through a pocket on the front of his shirt and retrieved a small gold object, holding it in his palm. It was the size of my thumb, flat on one end and pointed on the other.
— Can I hold it? I asked.
— Of course. You're so polite! he marveled.-A soldier is never polite.
— Is it hot? I asked.
— Is the bullet hot? he laughed.-No. The gun makes it hot. Now it's cold.
Mawein dropped the bullet onto my palm and my heart sped up. I trusted Mawein but was not certain the bullet wouldn't go through my hand. Now it rested in my palm, lighter than I expected. It was not moving, was not cutting my skin. I held the bullet in my fingers and brought it close to my face. I smelled it first, to see if it had an odor of fire or death. It smelled only like metal.
— Let me smell it!
Deng grabbed at it and the bullet dropped to the ground.
— Careful, boys. These are valuable.
I slapped Deng's chest and found the bullet, brushed the dirt from its surface and polished it with my shirt. I handed it to Mawein, ashamed.
— Thank you, Mawein said, taking the bullet back and replacing it in the pocket of his shirt.
— How many bullets did it take to kill the elephant? Deng asked.
— Three, Mawein said.
— How many does it take to kill a man?
— What kind of man?
— An Arab, Deng said.
— Just one, Mawein said.
— How many Arabs can that gun kill? Deng asked.
— As many as there are bullets, Mawein said.
Deng had as many questions as Mawein would answer.
— How many bullets do you have?
— We have a lot of bullets, but we're trying to get more.
— Where do you get them?
— From Ethiopia.
— That's where we're going.
— I know. We're all going to Ethiopia.
— Who is?
— You, me, everyone. Every boy from southern Sudan. Thousands are going now. You're one group of many. Didn't Dut tell you this? Dut! he yelled over to Dut, who was attempting to pack some of the elephant meat.-Do you educate these boys or not? Do you tell them anything?
Dut looked worriedly at Mawein. Deng had more questions.
— Is it easier for the Arabs to kill a Dinka, or for a Dinka to kill an Arab?