Matti Guillette

Innocence 

Matti Guillette 

 

 

I had been working there for seven years. The soil eventually made its home in my nostrils and lungs. Blisters from the sun covered my body. I can feel  that something very bad is going to happen. It had been a long and miserable day. The only hydration I can salvage is from licking the dew off of cold morning leaves, desperate for anything wet on my lips. I often considered giving myself off to the the Sudanese army, I’d rather die than live with the rebels. The Sudanese Army and the Lord’s Resistance army have been going at it for a while now. I’d lost count of the days I had a real meal. Most days I was boiling leaves off of the bushes just to eat something.

 

My stomach had been growing over the last seven months; it resembled a small watermelon stuck inside my blouse.  I already loved my little one so much. I felt awful bringing the baby into this kind of world. War painted our globe with blood smears and splatters creating a beautiful, terrible portrait of corruption. Sometimes I can feel my baby kick. This should be a beautiful moment for me, but I couldn’t help but imagine the child kicking and screaming inside of me, knowing it wouldn’t be safe in only three months time.

I wouldn’t wish growing up in the camps upon anyone; I could already see his little dark hand clutching a rifle. Learning the corrupt “christian way” they force upon us here. I was taught that god is a good thing, but now I see him as completely different. No god would do this to his people. No god would allow his children to be kidnapped into sex slavery. No god would sit and blankly watch our lungs gasping for air, lips turning blue, hearts turning cold. No god would choose Joseph Kony as a leader. If there’s a god out there, I would be embarrassed to pray to him.

 

Being a mother reminds me of my own. Her empty eyes, breasts pushed up by an expensive bra sent from daddy. She only wears clothing imported from Britain. She only wears clothes that daddy approves of.  I don’t recall hearing my mother tell me she was proud of me. As an african woman, she sure acted like a white one. She spoke in a proper british accent. Always sitting up straight, shoulders back. Watching me with an intimidating gaze. I felt my mother was less of a mom but more of a competitor. She always made it clear to me that she had nicer things. A nicer body, straighter teeth, longer eyelashes. I could tell she was jealous of my light complexion. She too wished to have lighter skin and hazel eyes. Mulatto people used to be impossible to come by; now they are seen more and more after the British impregnated our native people, each generation growing lighter or darker in complexion.

 

 

***

 

I walked into the kitchen, barefoot in a long cotton dress. I felt the soft particles of dust sticking to the soles of my feet when I gently reached up to fix Adam’s hair. It felt coarse and a bit oily between my fingers. The sunlight was beaming  in through the open window, leaving streaks of golden light that hit the floor flawlessly. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, I release the air from my lungs. Particles in the air dance and intertwine, illuminated in the air by the sunny ray. The mug of coffee feels smooth in my grasp. I lifted my small body onto the stool next to my brother, resting my head on his shoulder. Too sleepy and not even half awake yet, there was no need for words this early.

That day started off as any other, peaceful, calm. Feeling comfortable and cozy in the protection of my home. It was a Tuesday, and Adam and I were getting ready for school. We only had to walk down the street to reach the small private school that we went to. Snapping back from my mindless adventure, I heard our door burst open. Two large soldiers with large guns approached us rapidly. I remember it in bits and pieces, slow motion madness swarmed through the house, hiding behind screams and struggle. I was being carried out by a sturdy large soldier when the taller of the two pushed down Adam. and began to whip him on the skin peeking underneath his shirt, in the small of his back. The pink of his flesh and deep red of his blood looked almost fluorescent against his dark skin.

 

“Please, please stop, I’ll do whatever you ask.” Adam could barely make out his words through the whimpering of our pup Meatball as she put her paws up on our glass sliding door.

 

“Where is your mother?” The smaller of the soldiers whipped once more.

 

“She’s out.” Another hard whip cracked against his skin and he shrieked in pain. My arms were throbbing from the grasp of the soldier, twisting my arms behind my back.

 

“Tell me where she is.” He pointed the tip of his gun to Adam's’ head.

 

“Downstairs. please don’t hurt her,” water flooded his eyes. He spoke quietly, pleading the soldiers for mercy. Mother was important to him. Adam was always clinging to her side. Without her, I didn’t know how he would survive.

 

“I won’t hurt her son, take this gun.” I realized what he was asking Adam to do.  It felt like there was no way he was asking Adam to kill our mother. That was a request that Adam could never follow through with. That was a request no child could follow through with. I had to do something.

 

“Mom!!! Run! Get out, go!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, every ounce of me wanted to prove to my mother that I was tough. I wanted her to be proud of me.

 

My warning made the soldiers angry, they fired a warning shot into the air making me jump and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the tears from my eyes.  I had never realized that at only 10 years old, Adam looked well beyond his years. His dark eyes showed wisdom but innocence. I knew at that moment that it was my duty to protect him.

 

They brought us north to a camp close to the Sudanese border. Dozens of other kidnapped children traveled with us, most of them we had been familiar with because  we had gone to school or done sports with many other kids in the Gulu area. I recognized two young girls named Kati and Kora. I had babysat them from infancy. They were much younger than Adam and I. We walked together for two days. Stopping only to sleep. No food, no water. Often times, Adam Kati and Kora would take turns riding on my back.We were lucky to have had shoes, many of the other children had to travel barefoot. If our circumstances had been different, I might have enjoyed the walk. The easy breeze intertwined with my hair, softly flowing behind me. I could smell wet soil mixed with the fresh sent of my mango . The sun was setting on the horizon, every color imaginable was dancing in the pale blue sky, emanating off of the sun. Adam felt heavy but comfortable on my back, similar to my backpack when I bring my textbooks home. The walk was silent. We walked in a single file line behind fourteen soldiers followed by fourteen behind us. This was a survival tactic, if the Sudanese were to attack, the children would have protection. The Lord's Resistance Army, commonly referred to as the LRA, could use as many of us as they could. Children are easy to persuadshampooe.

By the time we reached the camp, our skin had been picked raw from our pink fingernails scratching and picking at our bug bites. Exhaustion killed any motive to cry. The only focus we had was to survive. Like many villages in Gulu, our camp had different sections with numerous huts in each section. The grass was dry and brown and crunched underneath our feet. Our village had been built in a clearing, and surrounding that clearing was a lush and thick rainforest. In the western part of the forest was a river, we used it to bathe and wash our clothing and dishes.

My first duty was to become a babysitter and  at 15, I was a good choice for the job.  Most of the babies that I had taken care of had been the newborns of other young women in our camp, each assigned a husband to tend to every sexual desire they may aspire to. Sometimes I could hear the cry of young girls coming from their husbands huts. I wished that I could do something to help. I wished that I could run in there and tell the soldier the back off. Couldn’t the soldiers tell that the girls were in pain? Couldn’t they tell that they needed to stop?

 After two days working as a babysitter, I met Joseph. I was walking to the river to collect water when two soldiers approached me. They asked if they could walk with me when I nodded hesitantly back at them, my green eyes blazing in the sun, I could tell what was about to happen. They each grabbed a hand and asked me to pick between the two. I remained silent, not sure what to say. I nodded towards the smaller of the two, assuming he wouldn't be as violent as the other. As soon as I had made my choice. The larger man pushed me down to the ground. He whipped out his machete and swiped at my left leg, leaving a huge red wound. At first it felt like five hundred little bee stings all in a row, but then my leg went numb. I rolled over onto my stomach and I felt my other leg go numb. The numbness crept up my body, I grew extremely calm into a meditative state. with my eyes squeezed shut, I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, Joseph had claimed me as his own. He brought me to his hut and fed me. I could never explain the gratitude I had towards Joseph, he was the first person to ever actually listen to me. I could tell that he wanted me to be happy. He acted as if he loved me. Being the naive teenager that I was, I took the food and shelter and developed a strong trust for Joseph. He loved kids, and was very friendly. When he touched me, my entire body buzzed in harmony. I could never get enough. It was one week later when I lost the most valuable thing that I possessed, my virginity.

 

Sleeping with Joseph was the closest thing I had ever felt to love for a man. It wasn’t just the sex that made me feel that way. Joseph took care of me. I had clothes, food, and shelter. He sometimes let me rest in his bed and let me lie down on the soft white mattress that he had. I always felt protected in Joseph’s bed, lying beneath the clean satin sheets looking up at a pale blue ceiling. That was the one place I felt safe. I felt like Joseph could do no harm, even though I saw him ruin lives everyday. The thing about Joseph was that he was an obvious leader. Even though he was leading a very corrupt and awful war, he didn’t make me feel like he was a bad person. Looking back at it now, I feel embarrassed that I couldn’t see what he was doing to me. He made me feel safe, to distract me from seeing his true colors.

 

I would often sneak off to find Adam and bring him any scraps of food that I could collect. I would tell him about Joseph, how gentle and kind he was, how I felt that I was the favorite of the 15 wives. One day, I salvaged a couple pieces of bread to bring to him. He stuck them in his pocket to save for later. As we were walking together, a soldier approached us. He was suspicious that we were emerging from the forest. Adam has always been a terrible liar, his dark cheeks would grow red as he looked down at his feet and stared at the ground in guilt

“What are you doing?” the man asked in a stern and deep voice.

“We had just gone on a short walk for fruit in the forest,”

“Come over here, it looks like you’re hiding something.” He looked angry, mean eyes were staring back at us. I was frozen, looking straight ahead and holding my breath. The soldier walked towards me and began to pat me down, stopping briefly at my breasts to cop an extra feel. When It was Adam’s turn, he immediately found the bread stored in Adam’s pocket.

“Where did you get this?” The soldier boomed in anger. His dark face looked almost purple as it filled with blood.

“I found it, behind a hut sir” Adam sounded almost whiny and dramatic, like he was asking for something that mom wouldn’t let him have.

“Tell me where you got this!” He whipped a baton out of his belt and smashed is hard against his back.

“I stole it sir” Adam said while he squeezed a tear from his eyes.

 

They took Adam by the hand and I didn’t see him for three days. I was outside washing clothing for the soldiers when I saw him. He had a large pink gash cut diagonally across his face. Two purple circles and swollen eyelids make his dark eyes almost impossible to see. His hand... or where his hand once was, was bandaged with a stip from a white tee shirt. Sprinting towards him, I dropped the bucket of soapy water and splashed it over the grass and soil.  Wrapping my arms around him and sobbing, I knew we had to try to escape.

 

After one month I could tell that I was pregnant. I hadn’t eaten in days. Anything I would try to swallow came back up seconds after. That was when Joseph seemed to lose interest in me. Another girl named Lauren had arrived two days ago. She was 14 years old and beautiful. It was no wonder that Joseph chose her to be one of his wives. He no longer came to me when he needed something. I never felt so lonely in my life. Joseph didn’t love me anymore. He now relied on Lauren. The pregnancy did not last long. I had 5 miscarriages over the span of four years. Even when Joseph didn’t show his interest in me personally, he continued to show an interest in my body.

 

***

I woke up from gunshots in the distance, the bright sun in my eyes. My back was aching from laying on the concrete floor. All of the women had one large concrete room to sleep in. It was cold at night and we didn't get much sleep.  We often laid close to each other to try to collect any body heat that we could possibly salvage. It was a cold and bitter morning. The air was foggy and I couldn’t see more that 40 feet in front of me. My first instinct was to find Adam. As I frantically ran around camp to find him, I found my brother hiding behind a small hut close by. He had his eyes clasped shut and was praying. I sat next to him with my arm around his shoulder.

“I think we should try to leave today” The sound of gunshots were growing louder in the distance.

“I want to go home Katherine, I want to sleep in my own bed, to smell the laundry detergent, taste fresh orange juice.” He was blinking back tears. “I’m ready to leave”

“Oh Adam, we’ve always been ready to leave. We are only now left with no other choice”

I wish I could tell you that we ran off into the woods found a nearby village and got help. But the process was torturous. Escaping wasn’t the hard part. The soldiers were all fighting in the northern forest. The hard part was walking for three days without food and water. The only sliver of hope I had was to get this baby to safety. When we reached the first village, we frantically asked everyone we saw to help us. But because we had had just returned from the camps, everyone thought that we were rebels, trying to trick them. We lived on the streets for nine days. Eventually we met a kind women named Margaret. She told us that she works for an organization called Hope for Uganda, she took us both in and gave us food and shelter. She helped me return to school and get back on my feet. Adam even got a new prosthetic hand. I had a sweet baby boy and eventually was able to support us both on my own.