Weightlessness… I am floating in a strange universe. That cloud of ocher dust touches my face. The white face of that child watches me. The blue robe flutters in the wind. Liza hands me the compass again. My mother hangs out the clothes in the warm morning. I feel again the sting of the scarification and the pain of the son torn from my entrails.

I fall back to the ground from the tree and the rain blesses me with its fall. The sky breaks again with a storm. The dances return to my body. Johari showing me the world on a screen. Shots ringing out in the silence. A white-eared kob runs before my eyes. The leopard is still waiting for its prey. My own scream pierces my ears. I jump the fence. I cross the border...

But everything is in my head... It’s as if my body didn’t belong to me, as if someone had separated the material from my mind, memories and soul.

I hardly feel like myself. I belong to someone who doesn't have my name. For a moment I think I have strings that someone else pulls at will until I realize I'm being saved.

My feet don’t touch the ground and yet I move. I have support under my legs and shoulders, and my neck falls back. My eyelids let in a very faint light that turns all those quick memories into a translucent reddish curtain.

A magnificent sensation of peace intoxicates me and I don't want to wake up. My brain asks me to open my eyes, but the tiredness I feel and the relief that floods me, they don't want to leave me.

I hear the sound of footsteps on dry land that comes off a not very paved pavement.

During all the years of my life I have learned so much that now I can get to know what the ground I’m standing on is like without even setting foot on it, without even seeing it.

It’s when I open my eyes that I affirm that I’m right: I see some black boots stepping on light earth, detaching with the sole this in its path and raising dust.

I look away following the barren road with my pupils. I see everything horizontally because it's not my boots that walk.

My arm hangs by the side and my legs are so light because they are suspended in the air. Someone carries me in his arms to a place I can't recognize.

My eyelids are heavy, but more so is the feeling of uncertainty that hits my chest at not knowing where I am.

My heartbeat skyrockets and I need to open my lips to breathe, receiving a breath of oxygen from the thick air that seemed too vital for my lungs even though I didn't realize it until now.

Confusion washes over me like all the hands that have hit me so many times, and turning my face, I can see Awel, staring straight ahead, grim, until he notices I've moved and looks at me.

There isn't smile for me. Just a look from watery red eyes. I hold those pupils with mine wondering what has happened.

I remember we were on the cargo plane, but I don't know how I got into Awel's arms. He looks at me in a strange way and I search behind his body for a familiar face that tells me that we are not alone.

Fear overwhelms me because I don't want to lose anyone else or be responsible for a death just for wanting their salvation. I only hear the sounds of footsteps on the ground and the wind shaking my clothes. But in a movement of Awel walking, I can see Zahiya's downcast face walking with Yiye hugged against her chest. Tears fill my eyes because I don't like the expressions on their faces or the solemnity they breathe.

Behind them, a weary Amani shuffles, escorted by Irshad and the anger showing in her clenched jaw. I don't see Athieng anywhere and I fear for her.

My mouth is dry and I feel like my voice won't come out no matter how hard I try to speak. Suddenly I feel like I'm that scared girl on a night of monsters under the bed and shadows on the ceiling. I manage what little strength I need to move my arm that hangs limply in the air and hug Awel.

"Are we in Khartoum?" I manage to ask assuming everything went well. I can't ask about Athieng. Not now.

Zahiya looks up from the ground and our eyes meet. I can make out the hint of a smile on her thick lips. Something gratifying after to have just woken up finding so many indescribable feelings on their faces.

"We are in Rabak…"

Awel's strong yet melodious voice tells me something unexpected and I can't believe it. The plane was supposed to go to Khartoum and we are about 328084 yards from there.

Impotence makes me almost cry and laugh at the same time, but I can't get one thing or the other. Incredulous, I shake my head but I’m determined to know why we are here, what has happened, where is the daughter of the man who carries me in his arms as if the daughter were me?

"Awel…" I say with my eyes fixed on Irshad who seems to be somewhere else and not here.

“You lost consciousness, Anoona." Awel says, although I haven't asked him anything.

I think you know very well what I need to know and I don't dare ask. That's why I look into his dark eyes, so sincere that they don't know how to lie even with the extreme need to do so.

I can't remember what happened, only the insane feeling of lack of air, of dying inside with my body alive on the outside and that dream that seemed infused.

The pain of that narrow hiding place next to the cargo on the plane is still in my bones.

I try to understand why we are on our way to Khartoum when we should have arrived by plane. But even that, with all my eagerness to escape, seems unimportant to me now that I don't know Athieng's whereabouts.

Awel lifts me up in his arms and that allows me to get a better grip with one arm around his neck. I can see over his shoulder and my quick eyes search for the girl but can't find her.

Perhaps the greatest pain, on many occasions, comes from the simplest words. But it's that the simplest words often hide great meanings:

"Where is your daughter?"

The silence I can hear behind that question pierces my ears so loudly that a sharp chill pierces my spine. A strange sensation invades my chest... it's as if it had become empty and, between the ribs and the heart, there was a hollow space where that unstoppable muscle throbs in greater solitude and with great impetus.

But what hurts me the most is the breaking of Awel's breath, which seems to be made of iron and diamond. I can feel it so against me, as I look helplessly at the others behind their backs, that it feels like mine.

My voice doesn't come out, only the strength with which I hug him, closing my eyes.

“We have left her behind, Anu…"

His reply is harsh but delivered with the fragility of a frightened child. And my heartbeat looks like the engine of that cargo plane that brings back vague memories.

We were the burden and we cannot get rid of it.

"Has died?" I dare to ask directly to that father who may be orphaned as a daughter.

Can you be an orphan of a son? Why has no one ever invented the word to define parents whose children die?

It doesn't exist... perhaps because the greatest pain is inexplicable, indefinable, unpronounceable.

"I don't know…" I identify in his voice the sound of suppressed tears.

His strong arms and muscular back don't match the weakness felt inside. Awel seems invincible, but even the fiercest of men is mortal.

When I first saw him, with that dark skin with a touch of gold in the sun and that sincere smile behind thick lips, I knew he was a great person. In his large black eyes, highlighted by some wrinkles, I could see nobility that couldn’t be hidden even when he was dressed in those colorful scarves covering his almost completely shaved head. He always seemed kind in every way. And so it is.

That's why it hurts me so much that he doesn't know what has become of Athieng… He already lost his wife. You can't lose any more. I couldn't forgive myself and I could never allow it. But, who are we to allow what isn’t in our power? Who are we to decide on the life that is not ours?

"What happened?" I decide to ask opening my eyes.

I allow myself to feel anger and pain because only then can I preserve my humanity. I allow myself to feel fear cause only then can I face it. I allow myself to feel weak cause only then can I be stronger.

Irshad's eyes look at me and in them I find so much hopelessness that my heart stops. It seems anesthetized by a prick that comes from the depths.

Sweet Zahiya smiles at me, but I can't reply.

"He blacked out... I still can't figure out why." Awel laments hurting me with his innocence. I don't remember what happened either and he carries me in his arms. It should be Athieng and not me.

“Irshad lost his nerve with fear. One of the crew members entered the cargo area when he heard a noise…” Tell me.

I look at him, leaning back but not letting go of his shoulder. And then he continues, looking straight ahead.

“He didn't hesitate to point the rifle at him.” He says looking at me with watery red eyes as I curse them to carry weapons.

"I said I didn't want guns." I say with contained rage in the same place as tears, making my throat hurt.

“When we wanted to realize, you were asleep. And this whole situation overwhelmed him.” He interrupts me. “I can't help being afraid of fearing the worst.” He took the man hostage and threatened the rest. He asked them to land and we were able to get you all off the plane an hour and a half after takeoff.

By my calculations we could have lasted much longer in hiding. But it seems I was wrong. I look around to see the place where we are… All barren and dry, open, without shade or trees…

Rabak is an industrial city. That is why the plane landed here, before the arrival in Khartoum. It’s full of factories… there are sugar factories, cement factories and also a mine and a refinery but, the best thing of all, is that it is on the eastern bank of the White Nile and my compass finally leads me to my destination. My plan has gone perfect, yes, we are finally further and closer but it isn’t as I imagined.

Because of that, tears fall by themselves down my cheeks when I fix my eyes on Awel again.

"Why are you carrying me and not Athieng?" I ask breaking myself.

“Because her weakness forced us to leave her behind… they took charge of her, giving notice to the paramedics.” He answer. “I don't know if I'll see her again…”

The harshness of those words causes a deep echo inside me, like the aftershock of an earthquake.

‘Her weakness forced us to leave her behind’. That's what your father just said. But what was different between her and me?

I look at everyone from behind Awel's back. I try to remember every moment, but I can only remember that I fell asleep. Shortly after takeoff, my breathing became heavy, my head was spinning, and my hiding place became too small. My forehead was sweating and my hands were cold. The palpitations also beat in my temples and I heard my heart in my ears. The noises seemed farther away than they were and at the same time so loud that they even hurt.

“I fainted…” I affirm cursing everything internally. “But, why am I here and Athieng isn't?”

I get silence from the mouth of that man whose strength makes me strong again. Not because of the weight he holds in his arms, on his back, but because of the path he has walked… because of his strength in moving forward alone with Yiye without knowing what life will bring to his daughter and that his wife will never come back.

"She's sick, Anoona…”

The tears of a brave person are the strongest thing in the world. That's why it makes me shudder that his eyes rest on mine when he gives me those words. Mine are mute.

I don't want to know more. I don't need to punish the man who carries me in his arms. I don't want to hurt myself with guilt. We are all victims and executioners at the same time... we just have to know how to deal with both and emerge victorious from all the fights.

I hug Awel, allowing myself to not have so much strength for once in my life. I close my eyes remembering Athieng's smile, with those big eyes full of fear, sorrow and hope; with her headscarf and her tight curls almost touching her slender shoulders; she was thin, but she was small-boned and, on the surface, nothing could indicate that she was ill. Had I known, I'm sure I could have taken care of her more than myself.

I feel my tears wet my eyelashes, and when they fall to the fabric of Awel's shirt, on his shoulder, I open my eyes.

“I promise you will see her again…”

My eyes freeze on Irshad as he walks along scanning the horizon. Who knows what he's thinking? What have they told little Yiye about his sister? I only get silence from his father until the somewhat shaky voice resurfaces from his throat.

“You need to rest,” he says, pausing briefly afterward “You hardly eat, Anu. You give almost everything you get to children. Zahiya doesn't carry as much suffering and weariness as you do. Irshad is strong, perhaps the most resistant to everything. But you fainted because you don't eat, you don't rest, and you sleep little”.

I feel exhausted and so comforted at the same time in his arms, that I feel that my eyelids don’t want to remain open any longer and I close them, tilting my head to rest my temple and cheek against Awel's shoulder.

It's true… I barely eat; I just raid all the places I can to get food that, when they offer me to eat, I refuse, excusing myself that I'm not hungry. But I think I could have done more for Athieng and now I just hope that we can see each other again. Even if it is on the other bank of the White Nile...

“Sleep…”