Life IN SOBA ARADI CAMPS IN KHARTOUM
By Gaudensio Lakwo Atuka,
Nov 7, 2015(Nyamilepedia) — Dear wife, I am very sorry for I will not be able to come to Juba and join the family as you might have expected. My inability to come home has been caused by unavoidable circumstance please understand. I failed to save the money for the air ticket fare. The phenomenon was up to no good. My one room, ramshackle house, fit only for goats and sheep’s leaked like a sieve ruining everything, my travel documents were swept away in a downpour together with all my necessary documents. The Sun and the rain did it haunt too. During the day my room is like burning furnace. The comboni priest tells us every Sunday that we sinners will be burned in the fire of hell.
Well, I feel I am already burning in the hell: I dread the coming of the cold season; the temperature can sometimes be so low that meat can be kept out for a week without going bad. I pray that I may not be found frozen to death one morning in my rooms. Every morning, with the Sun sickly white, draining all the moisture from the earth, I join the peoples in search of work. Every place I reach no work. Several times I have been told I am not good for a Chinese work for carry bricks and cements. When passing the people point at me and shout: look a lunatic is coming! For them, my right place is Tigana El-Mahi Omdurman.
In the social place for drinking like Tirra (Soba Aradi) people treat me like the worst criminal, fit only for Kober Maximum prison and not the glamorous streets of Khartoum.
Conjecture those four years I spent at Khartoum University, everyone told us that we were the future leaders, we were well fed and the government maintained our pockets. It was a paradise, when will the future come so that we will become leaders? School never prepared me for this life, not even the Church or the Mosque.
Everything is frustrating. Was it a way of keeping a graduate from the street at an early age? Who knows? Maybe it was, maybe not. I became sick with malaria and was in bed for two weeks, yet God is great and miracles do happen in this desperate world. I was at the point of death with writing in pain, none of my relatives, brothers and sisters visited me. Strangers and friends were the ones hovering over my bed.
Where were my own people? When everything is fine they shower me with sentimental words and phrases that I was their real brother, their source of life and their joy. I understand now what would they have inherited in case of my death? When I am in trouble, everyone avoids me like the rotten eggs. I wanted to commit suicide, but I thought of my beloved wife and how God will feel about my enter in the parades? You are only one who cared and understood me. Wife I have changed so much, but my love for you has not changed.
Yours Faithful Husband.