Some plans do not go as expected. There are escapes that take longer to execute than the same idea to form in the head.

In my thoughts, everything indicated that it would take only a week to leave the Suri settlement and reach my new destination. But all have been contradictions. A succession of events that have made my exit impossible.

When you live from day to day surviving on food, in a hurry not to stay in the same place forever, you don't come to think that you are wasting time unintentionally.

I thought I would be away the day after that song I sang to the children of the tribe. However, between my beginning to prepare the closest thing to luggage that I can carry, and the complications, there was almost no truce. First, we were surprised by an uncontrolled fire at the hands of one of the children who, thanks to everyone's ability and their way of being connected with nature, they knew how to extinguish in time. And I with them.

Afterwards, a torrential rain that seemed like it would never end fell for days. The crops were destroyed, hunting was affected and even the huts had consequences, in addition to the streams that formed and the mud that littered everything.

The water got quite high and there was more than one night that we had to sleep on the rooftops. It took days to recover some houses from the floods... but I have the feeling that, the Kachipo, resist everything and I already do anything.

But I couldn't wait for November... The tribe welcomed me for longer than expected and I continued heading north, with the Nile as my guide, uncertainty as an enemy and a light luggage...

They didn't know anything about my departure, they ignored my strategy and I planned everything in silence. In the same silence with which you must act so that no one discovers what you are going to do if you want to achieve it.

I have felt like a thief. I have felt guilty. I have felt a bad person... But you cannot deprive a wild leopard of its freedom.

Sometimes the hunter is hunted. And this time the tribe resisted their prey.

Although they did not know it, I said goodbye to the children, I said goodbye to the family that took me in: Kande, Kenyi, Abidemi, Fen, Safi and Omowumi. And I took from them everything I was going to need.

I managed to recover the old tracksuit with which I arrived here, as well as the slippers and the compass, which I knew from day one was in the possession of the old healer.

I got cereals, meat for at least the first days of the trip, fruits, a not very big knife, but enough to cut the food and a machete to defend myself.

I stole a woolen blanket and a kind of sheet with which I made a rope tied with thin ropes but strong enough to resist the little weight.

I had an AK-47 in my hands, but I dropped it...

I was once told that if you have a gun to shoot, you will shoot. In the end, out of fear or defense, you pull the trigger.

Between dying and killing, survival asks us to kill. Surrender, perhaps, asks us to die. But I don't want one thing or the other, and in case I don't know how to choose, if that's true, I preferred to leave the AK and take only the machete.

With all those possessions I sneaked away on the quietest night after the storm. I avoided the Kachipo who guard the night, I avoided the noise, I avoided the lights on in the fires that are lit in the camp and, without knowing how, I left the mountains and continued north, following the upper Nile.

He knew that he did not have much time until the tribe woke up.

Possibly they set out in raiding groups to look for me. So when I got far enough away that the noise of my running didn't alert them to my escape, I ran.

I ran for hours until, seeing that the dark sky began to lighten, I climbed a tree in which I camouflaged myself as best I could.

I waited to see them pass by, and when they did, despite the tense moment of being discovered, I was relieved.

If they didn't find my trail, they wouldn't take long to turn around. I could spend up to a whole day up there... even if I want to escape, I can wait. Forever wait. Well, it is the opportune moment that gives us the opportunity.

And wait. Which leopard or panther, I slept in a tree. I saw some members of the tribe pass by one of the times I woke up.

They didn't see me. I was not afraid. I didn't even breathe...

That was the last time I saw the tribe that took me into their bosom.

I descended with my luggage from that tree, although the descent was much worse than the climb. I had to drop my belongings and slid off the branch I slept on, jumping to the ground.

I didn't stop to eat even though I was hungry. I just drank water and continued north with my past in tow and a triumph ahead or, at least, the dream and the illusion of a better life.

I believe that hope is the vitality —of those who still have— so that your life can change.

November died so soon that I did not realize that the days were lost before my steps.

Those days are gone, but it is still summer... a hot and humid summer that will last until March.

I walked and walked... I ate on the fourth day of running away.

One of the consequences of going hungry is that you end up used to the feeling of emptiness in your stomach, your body gets used to the lack of food, it seems as if you don't need it because you can last days without it. But she was alone, there was nothing but hot and rainy roads, trees with hardly any shade and clear skies with too blinding sun, darkness at night and a cool breeze... a relief from so much heat during the day.

So I lit a fire that took me hours to light, although I am not able to know how many, and I was able to eat some of that meat that I took from the hut where the Kachipo put me up.

There was nothing left. I didn't even care about her condition and it tasted so good to me that I didn't think that, the days after, I would spend so much stomach pain, vomiting and diarrhea. All blame for eating spoiled food.

There were days that I could hardly advance on my path until I recovered by eating fruit, drinking water and cereals.

* * *

On my journey north I encountered dangers that I avoided as best I could. And they weren't animals.

Every now and then I ran into a car and rogue passengers.

In the distance I heard gunshots, screams, the unbridled footsteps of some prey, birds, squawks... That's how I got to Akobo... And I thought I had reached glory.

For the first time since I left the Suri settlement, I smiled when I saw that there were people there...

Migrants who came from many places, like me. Different languages, armed people, camps, directions ... I walked among them all, feeling less alone. But I thought about my mom and what she would do if she were me. Surely, he would approach any group and try to learn about all the things he does not know. So that's what I did.

They told me there was a market, an airport, a road that leads northwest towards Padoi and Walgak in Waat. Another road leads south to Kong Kong and Pibor.

What interested me the most was the airport.

They must have noticed. So I was interested in knowing what that airport was like and I managed to discover that freight transports were leaving. A perfect opportunity to cross borders again and reach at least as far as Khartoum. The capital of Sudan... Yes, without a doubt, a perfect opportunity.

It is located in the place where the White Nile, coming from Uganda, joins the Blue Nile, which comes from Ethiopia forming the Nile, whose course continues from Khartoum towards Egypt and the Mediterranean Sea.

I saw everything clearly and in my head I began to devise a plan that I had been devising for a long time. So I looked at the way of life of the people in Akobo... I came to know that those fleeing the surrounding conflict zones arrive almost daily. Some go on a multi-day journey on foot. They don't leave until late at night, when the fighting stops for at least a few hours.

But fleeing conflict at gunpoint is almost as difficult as escaping from the jaws of a starving leopard.

Surviving life is sometimes harder than surviving death. Deaths in the streets, shooting, crime, rapes and robberies.

Me, crouched in a corner, in an abandoned house, dirty, in ruins, in the open and with a group of people that —some— I don't understand.

I cover my ears with my hands so as not to hear the screams, so as not to remember the blows, so that the wounds do not hurt, to muffle the sound of the shots that end all the noise...

This is the life of those who flee so as not to die.

The last days of November have gone with them. One of the most daring, a tall, big and muscular man, dared to ask me if I was from here and pointed to my skin. Yours is much darker than mine.

"I come from Zimbabwe..." I told him.

And he did not answer more, nor did he contradict me, nor did he ask me anything again. He just smiled at me and pointed out that my skin was lighter than hers.

"Yeah ... It seems so."

It is obvious. But I liked that he didn't want to know more about my life, and also that the only deal he had with me was that of a kind man between thirty-five and forty who had a clear protective instinct.

Two of his children were with him and he had just lost his wife to a fever that they never knew what was coming from.

I went with them without knowing their name.

A group of seven people that we have been trying to help each other all these days, taking refuge where we can, escaping from crime even though, sometimes, we become criminals.

I went to the market and got as much food as I could.

I stole. I stole to eat. With some members of the group.

I threatened those who tried to stop me with the machete and it was at that moment that I knew for myself that if you have a gun in your hand, you will use it before letting them arrest you. So I was glad I didn't carry an AK-47.

I have become the fastest, least cowardly, and most capable thief in the group. But that is of no use to me. I can't stand here.

So I brought up my idea. An idea that I told you one night of weapons and guerrillas hiding in a filthy and damp basement of an abandoned premises.

According to my plans, nothing can go wrong ... but there is always a margin of error in everything. Until when there is food, water, shelter and company, something can go wrong. But it can also turn out as we think...

So, I've set my next goal, and whatever it takes, I'm going to get there.

It is December 4 and for the first time in a long time I know again what day I live.