Standing silently at the edge of the old boat, glancing down at the dark, swirling ripples, I feel alone and helpless. I close my eyes, hoping desperately that I will open them and be home in my bed.

But the slow rocking of the boat doesn’t cease, and the drunken laughter of the men below deck doesn’t fade.

I breathe in deeply; the strong salty scented breeze that I have gotten so used to over the last-how many months? I came here so long ago I’ve lost count.

As I think back on my life, a wave of memories crash over me in a torrent of emotion.

***                    

I watched my home growing smaller and smaller, and I shook with despair. My little brother started to cry.

            “It’s ok, Zalmai,” I comforted in my home tongue. “we’ll be in a better place soon.”

My mother chided me in a foreign language, “you must use English from now on, or you will never fit in.”

I didn’t want to speak English. And, like Zalmai, I didn’t want to leave my home either. But I knew that we must, for the sake of all our family.

For a long time, no one spoke. All we could hear was the song of the birds, far above our heads, swimming in the brilliant blue sky. The sun glared down on us from the heavens and the smell of the hot, dry desert was strong.

We walked towards the mountains that stretched towards the sky for what seemed like forever. My friend’s family and mine hiked alongside each other. One day, I asked my friend Shola how far she thought Australia was.

             “Father said past the horizon and into the world beyond,” she answered me.

Our families travelled to the world beyond for many nights, until our food was nearly gone. Our legs ached from marching across the plains for so long. Shola’s little sister, Freba, had to be carried most of the time; her short stubby legs shook from strain. As our supplies began to run out, I started to panic.

***                     

I draw myself out of the thought and concentrate on the task before me.

Focusing my eyes on the ripples slowly emitted by the boat, I remember the stories my father told me about the water cannibals that lurked beneath the waves, waiting to drown unsuspecting swimmers. The stories frightened me when I was small, and they frightened me now. They were the reason Afghanistan was inland, my father said.

I stare down at the murky water, and my reflection stares back. I look way too old and serious to be only nine summers. That’s what being away from my family has done to me.

Too late, I realize my mistake as I’m sucked into another fierce memory.

***                     

We were almost at the foot of the unappealing, sandy mountains when we stopped for two days. All of us were tired and hungry. We couldn’t eat much because we had very little food left.

One night, as we were settling down to sleep so we could leave the next morning, they came.

Five men wearing clothes as black as night came running silently out from behind a large, jagged rock. They ran at us and our four parents fought, determined to shield their children from harm.

My mother had warned me about these people. The ‘men from the devil’ she called them. They came to steal away children in the dead of night and make them do the devils bidding.

Our parents, though very weak, did well defending us all. We might have even escaped if it weren’t for the sixth dark figure who crept out and tried to grab my brother.

            “Zalmai!” I cried, fear coursing through my veins, making my vision blurry.

I ran at him faster than I ever thought possible and kicked the man in the shin as hard as I could. He roared in pain and grabbed my wrist.

I yelled and tried to bite him, but he twisted me around so I couldn’t reach. The man smelled of sweat and dust. His arm was pressed against my throat, making it hard to breathe. My mother screamed in our home tongue, abandoning what she’d said about English.

            “Kinah! Kinah!”

But I knew that she could never save me. The others would end up being taken too.

            “Go!” I choked out in the same language. “Get to Australia! You can’t save me! Go!”

Tears streamed down her face as she just looked at me in terror, her eyes pleading for me to say no.

            “Go!” I yelped again, as the man twisted me even further.

            “I will come back for you!” she promised. And then, to the others, she yelled, “Run! Go! Hurry!”

As I watched my family flee towards the mountains that now looked so inviting and leave me at the mercy of the ‘men from the devil’ I couldn’t help but weep. They hit me, but I didn’t care. I had a cold feeling, that I would never see my family again. What little life I had inside me seemed to blow away like dust scattered in the wind. My family was gone. What else was there to live for?

***                  

Once again, I pull myself back to the present. I put my left hand on my cheek to wipe away my tears, and then place it on my chest to still my galloping heart.

Across the horizon, I watch as the sun’s last raise disappear from the land above and the moon comes up to rule the night. Tonight, the moon is whole and glows brilliantly in exultation as it rejoices in its fullness.

I stand as still as a rock, not daring to make a sound and rouse my drunken captors. My legs begin to go stiff from standing so long. My bones ache from all the injuries they have inflicted on me. My arm throbs in agony.

For the third time tonight, I peer into the depths of the sea. In the light of the day, the waters seemed to be calling to me; inviting me to dive in and be free. But in the shadow of night, the moons glow makes it seem endless and eerie.

I close my eyes. One more time, I delve into my memories. But this time, I deliberately choose one that gives me the strength to do what I must do.

***                 

The drive was long and tiring. They wouldn’t let me sleep; they hit me if I tried. They wanted to make me suffer. They gave me one small slice of stale bread every day to keep me going.

I spoke very little English, but I understood some of what they said to me.

           “You must toughen up. You will get worse later,” one barked at me.

After many nights, we arrived at the sea.

I had never seen the ocean and it was beautiful. The tide chased playfully after the sandy shore and then ran back out, over and over. The calm, still water glistened peacefully in the early morning light.

Dominating the view was a large, old boat. Several men dressed like darkness itself were positioned on the deck. Huddled in a dusty corner were around half a dozen terrified children, visibly shaking in fright. The youngest looked no more than four summers, the oldest, twelve.

My kidnappers shoved me towards the rest of the children. They looked at me, their eyes wide like an owl’s, scanning the night for its prey.

For the next few weeks, we sailed. We were given a short supply of bread every week. If we ate it too quickly, we got nothing else until the following week.

The small room below deck where we were kept, was filthy. Vomit and old food littered the floor. Many of the weaker children became seasick during the voyage. The salty air mingled with the smell of vomit, sweat and blood.

When we reached our destination, we saw what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse half floating over the sea. We had a warehouse back home; a place where famers used to store their wares until it was blown down in a storm.

Our boat was left in the ocean and we were forced to stay on it. There was always a few men in black guarding us. They made us clean the boat until it no longer smelled like a scrap pile. They hit the younger girls whenever they cried.

At night, we would bunch up together and try to console each other. They became my family, we cared for and looked after each other, tending to each other’s wounds whenever we were beat.

            “It will be ok,” I whispered one night. “We’ll be free one day.”

Not all of them spoke my language, but they understood my comforting tone.

Sometimes I heard the men talking. Words bounced around; most unrecognizable. But I knew some. The words slave and money were repeated over and over.

Each day as we cleaned and worked until our bones cracked, I would look for an opportunity to help us all escape. And I finally found it.

They didn’t realize what I was doing, but they knew I was up to no good. I thought I had endured pain, but what they did to me was worse than anything. I would have died if it weren’t for the courage and kindness of my new family.

I wanted to punish them like they’d punished me. But I was only one small girl. I needed help. It took me two weeks to plan my escape. I didn’t let the younger children know, but a few of the older ones helped me.

We carved a small hole in the wall, barely large enough for me to crawl through. It led to a musty, old part of the deck where no one ever went.

I left early in the night. The younger children always went to sleep before the sun went down. The three older ones-Koshan, Azar and Mehri-were they only ones up to see me off. Koshan gave me a small sack with a pile of food they’d secretly saved for me. Tear flooded all our eyes as we said our goodbyes. Then I snuck out the hole and into the still, subtle darkness of the night.

***                     

And so I find myself cowering at the edge of the ship. I thought I would look forward to the moment where I would be free. But I feel bitter and helpless.

I think of my family; my new family-Mehri’s kindness, Shararah’s smile, Anoosheh’s confidence. I start to cry; silent tears that drip gently down my cheek and fall into the sea, making more ripples that spread out in a wide, soundless circle.

As I stare at the package that Koshan gave me sitting at my feet, I bring my right arm up to my face. I run the fingers of my left hand over the stump that used to my right arm. There was nothing up to my elbow.

I still hadn’t got used to doing things one-handed. I flinch in pain when I remember my tortured screams as the knife flashed down.

I was going to make them pay for everything they’d done. For beating Asman who was only four summers, for slashing a gash down usually confident Anoosheh’s arm, for taking away a part of me, for taking away a huge part of all of us, our families.

I glare at the sea with new courage and determination. My name, Kinah, meant strong-willed for a reason. I am going to do it; the water cannibals aren’t going to stop me from helping my family.

Retrieving the bag from the boards, I breath in the smell of the sea one last time. I glance briefly over my shoulder, back at the hole in the wall and see Mehri peeking out from behind an empty crate. She smiles at me and it’s her smile that gives me the final confidence boost I need.

            “I will come back for you.” I whisper, unsure of whether she can hear me. “I promise.”

I turn my back. Suddenly, the waters seem to be calling to me once again; no longer looking threatening and supernatural. The surface gleams brightly and the sound of the waves rings in my ears. Hope fills my heart and I know that everything will be ok.

Focusing on my good memories of both my families, I take a deep breath and dive.