"A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere." ~ Groucho Marx
One day we walked across the Kenyan border without even knowing. As we walked we were slowing down. It was 110 degrees at least and sunny. My bare feet and chest were hotter than ever today. The sandy desert ground had started to get picked up by the wind blowing it in our faces. Jonathan's initial reaction was to push Yana as hard as he could. She fell onto a cactus. A quite big one too. She was in so much pain and bleeding heavily. Sort of like how mommy was when she laid on the ground dying in Juba.
"Don't treat my sister like that," I yelled, "unless you want to fight."
"You don't talk to me like that little kid." he yelled back.
"You don't treat my family like that fat boy, You won't have any girls to get courted if you treat them like that." I threw back his direction.
"You won't either Mkono Mojo, with your one arm half work ethic."
"Don't talk to me anymore or my sister," I yelled. We seemed to be gaining a lot of attention "you don't even belong in the Dinka anymore, go join the Nuer. Even they won't accept you for who you are." I looked over to my side. Yana was being helped by another Dinka woman. She was tall with long black hair. She nodded at me and mouthed the words
"baé oke. Kami di dieu pikeun mantuan, salawasna." which means "she is okay. I am here to help, always."
" Power can go one of two ways power can be used to help someone, or power can be used to hurt someone," I told him "You used power to hurt someone."
"Paco stop," he told me " you are making too big of a deal out of this."
"You can't control me, You can't control the past, You can't control my feelings and you can't control yourself," I yelled looking at the ground.
"Jonathan you lost this fight when the first word came out of your mouth," I told him as I lifted my head to look at him." "You lost this fight when you messed with my family, but most importantly you lost two true friends when you made them think of their parents," I said in a soft but stern voice.
"Dinka doesn't hurt other Dinka, Dinka only helps other Dinka." I yelled, "don't be who you were in Juba. Don't be a bully."
YOU ARE READING
Kabur
Historical FictionKabur. To Flee. To Escape. Paco, Yana, and Jonathan are from South Sudan. They lived in a village near Juba, the Capital. Or at least, they used to. Juba was attacked. The Civil War was causing Chaos. The People wanted Christianity. The Government w...
