Samawada

Today was Samawadas brothers birthday, the 12th, and was the only day they were the

same age as tomorrow was his birthday. They would spend the day walking in the jungle into the

neighboring town confessing all the things they did the past year. The journey would usually take

two hours, twice the normal time as they would stop and perform an oath to never tell one

anothers secrets. But first was the breakfast their sister always made for them to celebrate her

brothers birthdays. Their mother died four years ago, and though just three years older, Ladan

filled her mothers role not out of duty but love.

Ladan had occupied the kitchen long before her brothers woke. It was a tradition she

carried on established by their mother so many years ago. Each sibling was to offer the other

something of themselves, something the other cherished. In the two boys case, it was their

sisters cooking which was quietly rumored about the village to be superior to her mothers. On

Ladans birthday, the brothers would do all of her chores for that day plus any other day she

asked. She would often forget and they would think they got away with something. They all

spoke of their plans for the day and resolved to meet at the well when the sun set to talk about

the days adventure. Ladan never made the same thing twice, and though it was difficult to come

up with something the brothers have never had, she would try and at least shoot for something

they have not had for some time. She did, however try to cook for Samawadas palate, shed

never admit it but he was her favorite. Todays meal was Malawax hayl iyo Miracas, a thick type

of pancake with berries and cream. She also made flatbread rolls called sabaayad filled with

muqmad (preserved meat) and fava beans for them to take with them. Great care was taken in the

collection of the ingredients and their preparation. Timing was everything, the entire presentation

had to be not just pleasing to the tongue but also to the eye. This was a detail her mother learned
from an American chef who visited the village years ago for a television show. Because of this,

her familys meals were the talk and envy of the villages women. As she feverishly prepared and

presented, the boys came into the kitchen, led by the aroma and singing by Ladan and a few

cousins.

Breakfast completed, the two comrades left the village and worked their way through the

acacia trees. As they approached the clearing where they would execute the oath of secrecy, they

heard something in the jungle they have never heard before there, something very out of place

for this region; vehicles. Specifically, vehicles idling, big ones with big engines. The clearing

reached, they sat down, took off their packs and began to recite the same promise they recited the

years before except this time they didnt finish. The burlap rice sacks were thrown over their

heads with such force it jarred their necks, the bags tightened around their faces so tightly it

prevented them from screaming out. They kicked and clawed, kicking up soil and rock as they

resisted, to no avail as the ether administered by their attackers ensured they were not able to

fight for long. The last thing he heard before blacking out was the cries of his brother, pleading

for someone to stop something that hurt.

Abyan

It was July, the start of Hagaa, the hottest season of the year. The lighter rains meant less

humidity making it somewhat more tolerable. This was one of her good days though, a clean day.

New sheets, an empty bucket and a shower. She almost felt new on those days. Almost. It was

her day off and she spent it, as the few others, daydreaming about her youth.

She kept a memento of her childhood in a small box under her bed, a handmade doll her

father gave her. On these days she would pull it out and curl up facing the wall and place it in

front of her face. She would invent scenarios of when she received as she didnt remember the
exact moment. Her favorite scenario was playing in the front yard with her sister, her father

came home and handed them each a doll. He would tell them where it came from and the history

behind it and why it was very magical and should never be lost as the magic would only work on

the person it was given to.

Through the memories she would go, occasionally cat-napping and dreaming new dreams

and old memories. Not even the sounds of the outside world or the smells wafting into her

chamber would snap her out of this precious time she was thankful to have each month. There

was the time at the park when she cut her knee and was more worried if she broke her fathers

gift when she fell or the time at school when the big girls tried to take it from her and she

covered it with her body as the girls kicked her attempting to separate her from the doll. Her

most recent memory was the hardest to remember but also the most vivid: It was about five years

ago, or so she guessed and she was assisting her mother prepare the evening meal of rice with a

carrot curry cabbage. She didnt like the way it smelled while being cooked but looked forward

to the finished version. As was her habit, her doll was secure in her pocket as she worked on the

tasks her mother asked of her and the most recent was to go to the well to fetch water to boil the

rice and cabbage. She grabbed a few empty buckets and made her way to the well. It wasnt far,

just on the edge of town by the main road so it took her just minutes to reach her destination. As

she filled the first bucket she heard vehicles racing up the dirt road, filled with terror upon seeing

the first one filled with guerillas, she abandoned her chore and ran for the villages signal bell

just a few feet away. She rang the bell as hard as she could, the first truck speeding past her, the

second coming to a sudden halt to let a few of the men out to deal with her and the bell. She was

cuffed, head covered with a burlap bag and thrown into the truck bed. Soon a bus appeared and

she was put in it. As she sat there she could hear the chaos and gunfire outside the bus. Soon she
was not the only passenger, she could hear other women being forced into the bus. The only

thing she could see was the feet of another girl being tied to the rope. Soon there was silence then

it was broken by the starting of the buss engine, the grinding of gears. The vehicle lurched and

took her away from her home. She drifted into a deep sleep, a rare smile on her face.

The horn signaling the beginning of a new day shook her out of her sleep, she placed the

doll back in its box and hid it then assumed her subservient position at the foot of the bed just in

time to see the man walk into her room, his pants already unbuckled.

As he stepped forward to impose himself upon her, she heard a loud crack just as she saw

the mans head lurch forward, his forehead open, his body slumping and him falling headfirst

onto the concrete floor. She could also smell something familiar. It took a minute but she realized

the odor was spent gunpowder. His blood splattered the room, her bed, the walls, her eyes, her

mouth. The fluid stung her eyes and filled her mouth with a saltiness that she was sadly familiar

with. She hurriedly wiped her face, cleared the fluid from eyes and when the blurriness subsided

she saw the man still face down, the blood flowing from his nose slowly expanding and pooling

in low spot on the floor.

Two men stepped into her room and stepped over the body. each grabbed one of her arms

and lifted her to her feet dragging her quickly through the doorway and down the hall into the

bright, hot afternoon. They placed her and the rest of the women into the back of an old military

troop carrier. The last thing she saw before leaving the gate was the invaders piling the bodies of

her once oppressors onto bonfires. Back in her room, under her pillow, was her doll. Her magic

was gone, her sobs drowned out by the chaos around her.
 Ladan

The siege happened so fast that no one knew had time to fight or attempt escape. Ladan

was just finishing cleaning the kitchen and doling out the leftovers to the beggars when it

happened. She found herself bound, gagged and put into a bus. She hoped her brothers had

gotten far enough to escape. After a long drive, they were all taken off the busses and placed into

individual rooms that appeared to still be occupied. As she lay on the old, rusty cot, she focused

on the stain on the concrete floor. It appeared to be oil but she wasnt sure. She had to go to the

bathroom. Her door was locked from the outside but next to the door was a bucket which reeked

of ammonia. It was then she realized what the bucket was for and from stories old women would

tell to scare girls into staying in the village, she now knew what she was for. She sobbed as she

urinated, the horrors of what was to be her life flooding her mind. She sat back down, trying to

ignore the odor emanating from the bucket when a man walked in and uttered something about

liking it when they cry. What he did to her broke her, hardened her and emptied her of tears. He

wiped his crotch off with her shirt and left. Laying there on the floor, she noticed a box under the

bed pushed into the corner. She crawled to it, pulled it out and found a small doll inside. She

began to sob again but afraid of being heard again, she buried her face into the mattress gripping

the doll.

Abyan

She and all the other woman, some still girls, were taken off the bus and marched into a

large metal hut. It appeared to have once housed machinery as the concrete floors were oil

stained and had eyelets with chains attached to them embedded in the concrete every few feet

from the stains. The women were lined up by height and to her horror, they were all chained to

one of the eyelets and forced to sit. She moved the shackle higher on her ankle to relieve some of
the pressure. Used to the abuse and uncertainty, it was a simple examination of the facts that led

her to the conclusion that she was not rescued but captured yet again to be be put into servitude

for another warlord. This new regime spent the next several hours tagging the women with

numbers. Each of them had a type of dog tag tied around their neck and its number recorded into

a ledger. A doctor of some manner gave the women a quick scan and made a note on a separate

notepad. She settled against the woman she shared the eyelet with and drifted off to sleep

humming Dhammow, a lullaby her mother would sing to her when she was frightened.

Samawada

He realized that his shoes were missing and he was chained to the boy and the bus seat.

The chain ran under his seat and since he could not find a padlock he assumed that more than

just he and his new acquaintance were attached. Other than the driver, the only adult he could see

was a corpulent, balding white man standing near the door. The language he spoke to the driver

was one he never heard before. The rock of the bus and roar of the engine coupled with the

headache and the nausea soon lulled him to sleep. He awoke to the sound of shouting and

gunfire. The smell of the spent ammunition sickening him, another bout of nausea and vomit. An

older soldier, seeing his condition, strutted over and hoisted him up by his shoulder. Upon

standing he was handed a rifle and told to get moving with the rest of the dogs. The march was

grueling; lashings were given to anyone that stopped or lowered the rifle below the beltline. He

was in decent shape so it gave him a chance to contemplate the situation. He has heard about

these abductions before, the women get sold into the sex trade and the men are turned into

soldiers funded by the sex trade and drugs. It was a vicious circle of violence, lust and addiction.

This was his life now, a soldier, a guerilla, an enslaved mercenary laboring for God knows what

cause, if there was one, they were never told.

 The trek over and camp set, the new recruits were allowed to relax. They were each given

a pack of cigarettes and some khat; a leaf which produces alertness, improved concentration and

gives the user a sense of euphoria when chewed. The long term health effects paled in

comparison to the short term benefits and addiction came quickly. So this is how they do it,

developing vices that were to become the pay for which they labored, for which they would

murder and enslave. He sighed and gave in seeing no point to resist, it was useless to resist and

always ended in deathor worse, there were men in the world who liked abusing boys. The sun

set and the jungle sounds soothing, the new soldiers drifted off to sleep, each one reconciling

with their new lives.

Samawada

A new day dawned in the jungle and with it new orders. They were headed to the

holding house to pick up and deliver the fresh ones, whatever that meant. The hike to this

place was short. It resembled an old construction site but was now a makeshift base for the

guerilla faction. The next hour was spent gathering women, the fresh ones, into a column and

tying them together, by the neck with a long rope, their mouths gagged. Soon the order was

given and they began to march back into the jungle towards what the handlers called the vault.

The hike was long and many of the women did not make it. The heat was oppressive and made

worse by the sacks secured over their heads, the ground unforgiving on their bare feet.

Occasionally they were whipped to move faster; threats were made to keep progress moving

forward. If they passed out they were left in the jungle, tied to an acacia tree for the local tribes

or insects to deal with. As he trudged along, he saw a woman stumble for the last time.

Samawada was ordered to take her into the jungle. This was the first time he was asked to do

something unsupervised and he swelled with pride that his handlers trusted him. This swell
quickly deflated as he pulled the woman out of the line into her grave; her whimpers and cries

ushered in a horrific sense of humanity to it, the feel of her arm in his grip reminded him of

being pulled along by the elders to be caned when he was disobedient. Samawada, for the first

time, felt human, felt beyond the khat, the powerhe was now reminded of his own abduction

and wondered how he became so jaded, so quickly. It was then that a sergeant came up behind

him inquiring why this was taking so long.

Why are you still out here, tie it up and lets move

Yes, sergeant. She was slow and

Excuses dog! Ive no time for them! Since Im here, let me have at this thing, strip her!

Samawada began to remove her clothes, feeling what was left of his humanity drain as she

whimpered from behind the gag.

Its hood to, I want to see fear.

Ladan.

Samawada, horrified, began to shake, his screams stuck in his throat, Ladans eyes wide,

streaming. Without any thought he swung his machete and tore through the sergeants abdomen,

his screams cut short with a second hack, done in madness, to his skull.

Sama

There is no time sister, take my provisions, his too, run!

She tried to embrace him but he pushed her back repeating his command then turned back

towards the road. As he made his way he saw a doll laying on the ground, he knew it must have

been Ladans. Rubbing some of the sergeants blood on it and his crotch, he attached it to his belt

and formulated his awful lie, not to save himself but to give Ladan time to run.
 Abyan

She sat in silence, almost enjoying the quiet but also apprehensive of what would take

place after the quiet ended. It didnt take long for her to have this answered as no sooner than she

thought it, the door opened and the early dawn came streaming in. It would be beautiful if she

wasnt chained to the floor, a captive, a slave, a plaything. The light and fresh air replaced the

dark and stale and with it also streamed a line of men followed by a line of women then a line of

more men. The women were tied by the neck in what resembled a daisy chain and there were

loops that were empty of necks, empty of misery.

The women were sat down and went through the same process she did. Inventory,

examination, chained to an eyelet. The men were handed bottles of moonshine, more khat and

cigarettes and told to stow their rifles. The doors soon closed and darkness set in, the only light

was from light bulbs hanging naked from the ceiling.

The men engaged in conversation and card games, drinking, smoking, chewing. She

would notice that as time went on, their glances at the women became longer and menacing, she

knew there would be no sleep tonight, no peace, only service.

The building lust was like blood in the water among sharks. The lustful, violent frenzy

was soon unleashed and each man took claim to one of the chained and did as he pleased. She sat

trembling, waiting to be taken. A soldier approached her, he dropped his pants and stood before

her, hands on his hips. She got on her knees and awaited no other instruction. As she took him

into her mouth she saw a doll hanging from the belt of a man standing behind him. She bit down,

once again tasting the blood of her oppressors.