Kabur

Chapter 1| Paco

"At some point, you just have to let go of what you thought should happen and live in what is happening" - Unknown

I hate reality. You can avoid reality, but you can not avoid the consequences of avoiding reality. At this point, my sister would say " Stop trying to act smart, Paco." Yes, my name is Paco. Paco Zakrra. I live near Juba, South Sudan. Our village is full of huts, but it stinks of sweat and animal dung. It is near the Nile, which is our source of water. My sister once jumped into it. She can swim now, unlike myself, who can't. I find that quite unfair. Another reason I hate reality. It's unfair. It's also quite dangerous. Why can't life be the way I want it to be?

When I was little, my grandfather was killed while trying to protect our village from a lion. The lions had gone into our fields to kill our cattle. The lions have a creative way of killing. They urinate on one side of the pasture. The cattle will smell the lion urine and run to the other side of the pasture, where the lions wait to attack. My grandfather was the bringer, a special job among the Dinka tribe. The bringer stabs the lion to make it angry, then he runs for his life, through a circle of people with spears. Then the lion is killed by the spears and drops dead. My grandfather was unlucky and the lion got his shoulder. He bled so much that he was killed then and there.

I thought that would be the worst thing that could happen to me. My life was good while I was 11. I slept on the floor of our hut with my sister Yana. It seemed peaceful, to a normal person. I ultimately did not care for my older sister, who seemed to return the "affection". Little did I know this peace would not last long.

At the age of 12, At midday, I was changing clothes in our family hut. My clothes were in the corner. I had no mirror but my long black hair hung down by my ears. It was time to get it cut. The hand me down shorts that my mother crafted for my grandfather were passed down to me. They were wearing out. They barely fit me anymore even though I was small. They were brown shorts. The back of them was fading away. I put them on slowly. The walls of the hut were light black, a dull color for my dull life. I proceed to put my shirt on. The gray back of the shirt was on my face. I stopped and stared at it for a minute. The shoulder was still missing from the brutal attack on my grandfather. Suddenly I was really sad. Today did not seem right. I always put my shirt on first but today I did not. Today I put my shirt on last. I tried to shake this off. Suddenly I heard gunshots boom through the sky loudly. My fear of death kicked in as the bullets zoomed everywhere. My name means bold eagle, but I was far from bold in this moment. Before I knew it, people were dropping dead. There were screaming and so many people running for their lives. So many people burning to death. It was an attack. My parents yelled and told me to run, and I did. My sister and friend, Jonathan, ran after me. We sprinted through the village, looking for safety. As I ran through the village, I found my father dead, lying on the ground, a puddle of blood forming beneath him. I heard another gunshot and heard my mother scream "Kabur!" I looked behind myself and saw her drop dead. That is when it all started for us.

I ran into the savanna. Yana and Jonathan followed shortly after me. I did not know Jonathan that much but, Yana did. I used to tease Yana about having a relationship with Jonathan. I really thought she did but my mother and father made me drop the scheme. He seemed like a person that would fight with others because he was a big boned guy. He was not. Jonathan was a kind loving soul to everyone, but me. It was like he had a grudge against me and was happy for everyone else.