CHAPTER 1
It was a hot day in my homeland. As the sun shone brightly upon our heads, you could see a couple of kids running back home screaming voices of joy. Yes, I said joy. It was normal for us to walk 3km every day to and fro from home to school. Lacking water, minerals and clothes. Wearing only what our family could afford. You’d be considered lucky if you had at least 3 pair of school dresses. Yet, with no complains the children of South Sudan walked. Having to be born in a politically segregated country wasn’t our wanting. Having to be born in a family whereby two meals a day is merely possible. “Mama! Mama! Ustan is back Mama! Where are you?”said my younger brother with full of enthusiasm in his speech. Rather excited, my mother replied “Ahh Kepun! You’re back already?” Well, Kepun was the nickname of my younger brother, Abduh Ustan al-Mua’mad Hazim. He was only 8 years old. My baby brother had to walk 3 km everyday from school. With sweat dripping all over his body, he asked my Mama for food but all she could do was hug Ustan’s head and kiss it. With much disappointment, though with not a single complaint, Ustan went to a corner of our hut and immediately took out his homework. “Justa! Please help Mama go get some water for us tonight” I, Vuita Juaánah al-Mua’mad Istan, also known as ‘Justa’ to my family and the villagers am the eldest daughter of a family in Yambio, South Sudan. I took a pail and a small hoe with me in a small knapsack. Oh why a hoe you ask? We live in the after math of a war torn country. Mama who goes by the name Yohinei Paul is an African Christian whereas my Papa, Ukhtar al-Mua’mad is a Muslim from Sudan. After the civil war which tore my country apart broke in, my dad fled from the northern part of Sudan to be with my mother, in the capital Juba. Unfortunately, he was not welcomed. So, he and Mama ran way to the other part of the country, Yambio which is now our home. They’ve had a hard life ever since. 16 years ago, I was brought into this world followed by my two younger brothers Ustan, 8 and Farhen, 3. Mama always told me in her rather African-like accent, “Justa, regardless of the situation, always be beside your brothers, always know there is only one race in this world which is the race of Humanity, always remember that there is only one God, who is Omnipresent and the only way out of this pure torture is education!” Only a few drops of water dripped from the pipes of my house every day. I walked to a nearby well which was almost dry. With all my might, I scooped the last few pails of water. As I was walking home, I bumped into some of my classmates. “Ahahaha! Look again. It’s the mix blood!” Jaco and his friends laughed at me. You see, South Sudan is a majority Christian place. My Papa is a Muslim. Nobody liked us. I only had my siblings and Reihan to be called friends. “Hey! Stay away from her you inhumane scoundrels! Don’t you have blood running in your body as well?” screamed Reihan from afar. Reihan Wutnah was my only friend in school. I did not blame the rest. My country is segregated. The fought for mere oil and religion and succeeded from each other. The northern part consist of mostly Muslims and the southern is mostly Christians. Mama always said we’re all humans but..why was I never excepted. Why is there a religion barrier? Aren’t we all one? I smiled at Reihan. She knew I had no intentions of harming anyone. I came back to a small hut only to find Mama vanished. “Oh Mama! Where are you? Ustan! Farhen!” I heard a slight tinkle from the corner. Immediately my head turned to both my brothers fast asleep near the window which hung a few bells. But..where’s Mama?
