The Things I Couldn't Pack

That morning Mama and Baba were having another one of their secret conversations after breakfast. I heard it, though. I hear almost all of the conversations they hide from us kids because they don’t want to worry us. I’m the oldest of me and my four siblings, though. I can handle it.

In this particular conversation they were talking about how the fighting outside the city was getting worse by the day. I’d heard rumors like that before. But nothing had ever actually happened. This time shops were closing early, the pharmacies were almost out of stock, and Mama had started stocking up on food.

“Morning, Sara,” my best friend Mona said as I sat down at my desk. “Are your parents worried too, or are mine just being overly paranoid?”

“Yeah, they’re really concerned. I think this time it’s real, though. What do you think?”

“I really don’t know. I mean, we all know that the SAF and RSF have been fighting off and on for a while now. But what if this time it means something? My Baba had to close his shop early yesterday. It’s not like anyone is leaving their houses to buy something anyway.”

The Sudanese Armed Forces, our country’s army, had been fighting the Rapid Support Forces, a militia with a lot of power, for what felt like forever. It was just part of life at that point. To be honest, I had gotten used to it. It seemed almost as if it was fake - like no matter how bad things theoretically got, it couldn’t hurt us. How wrong I was….

School that day was very tense. All day I heard whispers in the hallway about families thinking about moving before it’s too late, the shortages of food that had apparently started, and panicked teachers that thought no students could hear them.

Halfway through the afternoon the old speaker system crackled on. “Attention all students: due to the ongoing conflict around and in our city-” It cut off. All of us waited in suspense for a few seconds as static filled the room. “Apologies. Due to the ongoing conflict, school will not be in session for the next 7 days, starting tomorrow. Dismissal today will be as usual.”

Silence. We were all afraid to speak. To even look at each other. What does this mean? What happens now? How bad did the war get that they had to cancel school?

I’m in a rush to get home that day. “Hurry, Azza. We need to get the twins and then pick up Nadia.”

“Sara, they’re outside the city, not in it. That means the fighting can’t hurt us, right?” My thirteen year old sister looks up at me with fearful and sad eyes. I hated to scare her, but I wanted to be a good older sister and give her the truth. After all she’s a teenager, as she loves to remind everyone.

“Well, not exactly. Some of the people from the SAF and RSF have started making their way into El Fasher. It’s okay, though. It just means we need to be careful.”

We walked in silence as we picked up my six year old twin brothers, Peter and Sami, and Nadia, who’s ten, from the elementary school across the road. All three of them seemed unbothered by the anxious atmosphere.

That night after dinner we heard gunfire. There were explosions, too. The windows were shaking as if there was an earthquake. I was kept up almost all night by the sound of war in my beloved city. That night was just six short days ago, on October twenty second.

The next morning Mama asked us all to gather in the living room after we ate. I remember thinking that I knew what was coming. I had been waiting all night for my parents to voice what we were all thinking; that we needed to get out of this city.

“Okay, kids. I have something really important to say, and I need you all to stay calm.” Mama was holding both the twins, who were very fussy after a night with such little sleep. “It’s too dangerous for us to stay here. We’re going to Tawila to stay with your grandmother for a while.”

“But don’t worry,” Baba interjected. “They have a school there a lot like the one you go to now, and you can walk from Mama Amira’s house. You’ll get to meet lots of new friends and we’re going to spend a lot of time with your grandmother.”

I could see Nadia starting to cry and Azza wasn’t doing much better. I could tell she was trying to be mature. “When are we leaving?” she asked in a small voice.

“As soon as possible. We want to get on the roads sooner rather than later because they’ll be very crowded. A lot of families are doing the same thing we are.” Since El Fasher was the last city in Darfur still being defended by the army, everyone knew the fighting was worse there. And things would only keep going downhill.

All of us went to pack. Mama told us to make sure we don’t bring much because we’ll be walking. I didn’t know how we would be able to do that with the boys. They’re only three! And Mama and Baba couldn’t possibly carry them the whole time.

It stuck me then that I was about to leave my town, my friends, my whole life for who knows how long. I grabbed a small suitcase and filled it with clothes that were comfortable to wear outside in the heat. I picked up my favorite book to add it to the bag, but thought better of it and packed a water bottle instead.

A bag of dates, a first aid kit, a sleeping mat, and water. That’s all I had other than the clothes on my back and the three outfits shoved in my bag. Only five days ago already feels like an eternity. The last thing I remember thinking as I left my house was wondering when I would see Mona again. I never had a chance to tell her I was leaving.

I looked around my room. Above my desk there was a wall of photos, mostly of me and Mona. A framed family photo hung just above my bedframe. On my dresser was my jewelry box full of treasured necklaces and bracelets. My favorite dress hung in my closet. I’ll be back, I told myself.

Nadia tried to pack her favorite stuffed animal, but it was too big. Mama gently took the toy out of her hands and set it on her bed. “We don’t have room for this, Nadia. I’m so sorry. Don’t worry though, we’ll get you a brand new bear once we get to my mother’s house.”

Baba held up a tiny plastic keychain of a unicorn. “You can take this, if you want.” That was all we could spare the room for.

That night we joined what felt like a million other people leaving El Fasher to find safety. There were people carrying babies on their backs, people pushing wheelbarrows holding their elderly grandparents, and several donkey carts. My family made friends with another group of families that were headed to the same place as us.

“Who are you staying with once we get there?” I ask a girl from one of the other families. Her name is Amira. She’s a little older than me and seems like a nice person based on what I can tell. I wish we’d gotten to meet under better circumstances.

“We’re hoping we can stay in one of the refugee camps for a while. Our closest family lives in the capital and we don’t want to travel there until things calm down.”

Sleeping that night was awful. We set up on the side of a random dirt road, and all we had with us was mats and blankets. But we made the fatal mistake of not hiding our belongings. When we woke up that morning, someone had stolen most of our stuff. Food, my first aid kit, and lots of our water was gone.

All that was left in my bag was clothes I had packed. I couldn’t believe someone had done that. Obviously, we were all struggling. I couldn’t believe someone had decided it was okay to steal from others in the same position.

Walking that day was a nightmare. It was hot. Dry as bone. Dust from the road was sticking to every surface. I saw those who were able to walk sobbing as they did so, and some who couldn’t were left behind.

In the middle of the afternoon we heard the unmistakable sound of revving motorcycles and gunfire up ahead of us. The RSF had come. The endless trail of people came to a stop and we sat petrified as we awaited our fate. Peter and Sami were crying inconsolably, and so were other children around us. Honestly, I wasn’t far from joining them.

We could see dust rising and people dropping to the ground on the hill up in front of us. Mama told the twins to cover their eyes. Baba made Azza and Nadia turn around. I watched, terrified of what was to come.

We were lucky, but many people less than a mile ahead of us were shot dead or kidnapped. I’m sure there were many more attacks, but I only witnessed that one.

Today is October twenty seventh. We’ve made it to Tawila, unlike many people we know. We’ll arrive at my grandmother’s house tomorrow if everything goes well. I’ve heard many different rumors about El Fasher, the most recent being that the RSF took control of the city and we will never be able to go back.

I think of the things that I couldn’t put in my suitcase. Not just the things that literally couldn’t fit, like the painting I never finished or the dress I love so much. My friendships with people I may never see again. My memories from the house I don’t know when I’ll return to. The sense of safety that came with knowing every neighbor on my street and every kid in school.

Mama and Baba decide to rest for the night at around eight. As I’m setting up my mat to go to sleep, I glance at the suitcase that holds my entire life but really just a piece and wonder if I’ll ever be able to go back to the way things were. Things were perfect just one short week ago, and now I’m dragging my entire life behind me on four wheels.