15

HANNAH

Hannah would know things. She often cut up food for the commanders and served them too. She was ignored and therefore invisible, but she wasn’t blind and she wasn’t deaf. She would surely have information that could help save them … but would she talk to him?

It was Sunday, their only day of rest from constant walking and sporadic attacks on villages, trucks, buses, or people simply going about their business. Hannah sat behind a hut, legs tucked underneath her, hands together. From a distance it appeared as if she was praying; up close she looked as though she was someplace deep within herself, somewhere far away.

“For you.” Jacob held out a piece of pancake bread that Oteka had passed to him at great risk. Hunger tore at Jacob’s insides. It took all his self-restraint not to shove it into his mouth and gobble it down.

Bread! Hannah looked up at him, then around to see if they were being watched. Slowly she lifted her arm … then, fast as a gecko, grabbed the food out of his hand. “I have nothing for you. Why do you bring me food?” She ate quickly lest her good fortune be snatched back.

“I …” Jacob didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to talk to her, or to any girl, for that matter. He wanted to know about what the commanders were planning. But if he asked her outright, maybe she would think he was a spy. He had to try to become a friend. He wanted to be her friend, but how? She was prettier than he’d first thought. She had high cheekbones, a thin nose, and the eyes of a tiger, nut-brown with flecks of gold … dangerous eyes.

“Go.” She motioned with her hand. “Sit over there and do not look at me. If anyone comes, pretend that you do not know I am here.”

Jacob did as he was told. He crouched down on his haunches behind a hut and looked off into the distance. What now? If he were at home, in the back garden under the mango tree, what would he say?

“Where are you from?” he asked, politely.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her shoulders pull back as if she was startled by the question. “I am from a village near Kitgum.”

“I have been to Kitgum.” In his mind’s eye he saw red roads, little shops, painted buildings, a sweet place, like Gulu, but much smaller.

“What of your family?”

Hannah paused and seemed to consider her answer. “A curse was put on my father when I was ten years old, and he died. Then my mother died, too, but of tuberculosis. I had a sister but she ran away. The others—cousins, aunts, uncles—all gone.”

“How were you … how did you come to …?” This was harder than he’d thought.

“The LRA were always raiding our village. They took away lots of boys and girls. I had a friend. Her name was Sarah. She was alone too, so we became sisters.” Again she stopped.

They sat in silence for a while. Jacob waited. Should he say something? Ask another question?

“I find it difficult … it is that … speaking takes practice,” Hannah stammered.

“I do not mean to …” said Jacob. But what did he mean? Hannah took a deep breath. Again she looked over his shoulder. They both did. “The government representatives came to our village and said that we would be safer in a displacement camp. So Sarah and I left our village and moved into the camp. But the rebels broke into the camp and abducted many children. We were afraid. So then the government representatives said that if the children in the camp walked to Kitgum we would find protection there.

“At night we—I mean Sarah and I—walked from the camp to the refugee center in Kitgum. They called us night commuters. There were places for us to sleep—tents, wooden shelters, churchyards. But we were not safe, no one kept us safe. Bad boys bothered all the girls. Even the police and army soldiers bothered us. Boda-boda boys too. They ran around us with their little motorcycles as we were walking. They scared us. I want to become a sister, a nun. I thought that the nuns would not take me if a boy spoiled me.”

Footsteps! Not heavy ones. Maybe a child. They waited in silence. Moments passed before Hannah spoke again.

“Some nights were very bad, and we had to stay awake to watch out for the boys who would bother us. One night Sarah and I decided not to walk to Kitgum. We stayed in the village, and that was the night the LRA came again. They killed many and then they took us away. Sarah was my family.” Hannah stopped. Jacob stole a glance. She looked surprised, as though she couldn’t believe she had talked so much.

Jacob did not ask about Sarah. He knew: however it had happened, Sarah was dead. Right then Jacob wanted to say that Hannah could be part of his family. Norman and Paul were his family, and maybe Tony too … even if Tony didn’t care about them anymore. Hannah could join them, and even if they could not talk to each other freely or easily, she would know that she was part of a family.

“Your ears …” He regretted the words immediately.

Hannah bolted up and forward, as if she had been hit hard on the back. “What? You think I suffer because they took off my ears?” She spat out the words. “The women say that I am cursed, and so they leave me alone. The men find me ugly and so the commander does not give me away as a co-wife. I will not be a co-wife. It is not the Christian way for one man to have many wives. The commander points to me, and then all the women are afraid and do what they are told. And even the soldiers do not want me to go into battle because they say that I will bring evil spirits down on them. But I am lucky and I am strong. I can carry more than two women. As long as I do not get sick, I will live and I will escape. One day.”

“I am …” He was sorry for asking such a question, but when he turned to face her, she was gone.

Fool, he thought. He had done this all wrong. He had found out nothing about the commanders, nothing about their location. Instead of befriending her he had offended her, and it might be weeks before he had such an opportunity to speak with her again. He had failed. Jacob sat in the dark for a long time and listened to the frogs and the crickets and bush babies whining, thinking over what had happened. Perhaps, he decided, he had not failed completely. Now he knew that Hannah wanted to escape, too. He knew something else: she was brave and smart.

There was no plan in Jacob’s head, not yet, but from here on he would be ever vigilant. As his body grew weaker, his mind grew stronger.

There were some questions he knew the answer to. Why were they always walking? Oteka had said it was to hide from the government soldiers and to find food. That, in Jacob’s experience, was true.

How many soldiers were in Kony’s army? How could anyone tell? With the boys from the school there were about two hundred in this brigade, and Oteka had said there were four brigades. Did that mean that Kony had eight hundred soldiers? Maybe not.

They marched in a straight line, following in each other’s footsteps. Why? Perhaps because that would make it hard for the government army to estimate their number. They slept in long grass, because even though they flattened it in the night, it would take its shape again under the noonday sun and hide all traces. Again, this would make it hard for the government soldiers to estimate their numbers. He was beginning to see a pattern, a method to the madness of the LRA.

Jacob would make mental notes concerning the comings and goings of the commanders. He had a good memory. Commander Opiro was away most of the time. The truck that carried him off like a king did not always bring him back the same day. It was said that he was in meetings with Kony. It was said that there was a big plan to bring all four brigades together and attack Gulu, or maybe Kitgum. It was also said that some nights Opiro and other commanders drove into Gulu and had dinner at a hotel. Why were they not arrested? Did people not know who they were? Father sometimes ate at the hotel in Gulu. That night, Jacob watched as Commander Opiro climbed into the truck with loppy tires and drove away. He left Lizard in charge. Lizard now carried a cellphone. And he had a new title: Lieutenant Lizard.