WE REGISTERED AT A UNITED NATIONS office, where they took details of our family. As we headed out, my mother ushered us quickly toward Tielul I, a division of the camp, where my stepmother Elizabeth (my father’s second wife) was to be our host and guardian. She had been there since our family had gotten split up in Luääl and had been elected to the head office in her section of Tielul I.

I recognized Elizabeth right away. She had already established a home here and welcomed us with open arms.

ELIZABETH: Nyathak, I will make sure to write a letter this week so that you all can secure your ration cards.

MUM: I heard the local director of the United Nations failed many families in that regard.

ELIZABETH: I will have my letter inside his office before morning.

MUM: Thank you, mother of our children. We are lucky, Ger. Oftentimes when you lose one family member, another one pops up at just the right time.

Elizabeth was an Anyuak from Sudan and had lived in Itang in the 1970s during the civil war. She was a well-known leader among the Sudanese within the camp and welcomed all refugees. She was educated and outspoken, and people looked up to her. Possibly thanks to her clout, my family received a larger portion of food than we anticipated.

Elizabeth’s son, my elder brother Ruot, had escaped to Khartoum, where he went to school before proceeding to Egypt. He would go to America in 1989. In 1986, her daughter had been taken from Bilpam to Cuba, where the SPLA sent young Sudanese refugees to get a military or other specialized education. Many ten-to-thirteen-year-olds hoped for the opportunity to go to Cuba, since we all believed life would be better there. And Elizabeth had happy news for us.

ELIZABETH: Oder is in Cuba as well. Safe, though injured. He was shot—got a broken collarbone. Now he is recuperating. Such a brave young man.

My mum took in the news quietly. While the twins remained oblivious to any of the trauma she internalized, I, on the other hand, let out a scream. Oder was safe, perhaps getting an education, maybe never having to fight again. The family was now closer together, with wives receiving news of their children, even as the wars had kept us apart. Maybe the tides were turning for us.