TWO OF PAUL‘S SUDANESE FRIENDS, James Bol Both and Koang Toang, who had settled in America in the ’90s and had made plans for us to get here through the sponsorship of the Lutheran Church, received us at the airport. They showed up in their vehicles, a 1993 red Pontiac Grand Am and a white two-door Ford Mustang, which felt surreal, seeing people with my skin color living the American dream. Bol and Koang embraced us, and watching them mingle freely with white people gave me a sense of absolute confidence—that, and my blue jeans from Lual. I felt I could be them if everything went according to plan.

JAMES BOL AND KOANG: Maalę! Maalę! Maalę!

Hearing my native language in this very white world made me light-headed; I wasn’t sure what was real. Bol and Koang were accompanied by Man Mark, an old white Lutheran woman, who was in effect our host. According to Nuer culture, older women are called by their sons’ names. That’s how we came to call her Man Mark, meaning “mother of Mark” in Nuer.

Koang shared an apartment with Bol, Bol’s wife, and their two kids. Bol’s wife had prepared a huge feast for us, which was laid out on the dining room table. Everyone had their own plate—something I had never experienced—and we all served ourselves to our satisfaction. For the first time in my life, I ate as much as I could. I couldn’t believe I was walking away from a table that was still full of food, but I was too stuffed to be able to speak much.

JAMES BOL: Guys, eat. You know, in America you have to eat as much as you want.

ME: I have had enough to eat, Bol. Could I please take a bath?

JAMES BOL: Yes, Ger. You will all take a shower before going to bed.

I got to shower first. Bol gave me a clean towel, which I was afraid to use, thinking I would make it too dirty. He took me to a bathroom inside the house, something else I had never experienced, and showed me the hot- and cold-water taps. I had only ever bathed in rivers, and only used a bathroom at the refugee holding place in Nairobi before making the journey to America. What fascinated me most was that water was running freely from the shower, disappearing into a little hole in the floor.

The moment I opened the taps, having forgotten which was for cold and which was for hot, scalding water came down at me with high pressure, burning my skin. I reached for the tap but couldn’t master how to close it, and the water burned me more.

ME: Koang! Please come help me. Someone please come help me!

I screamed as loud as I could from the shower. Koang ran into the bathroom and found me naked, scared, and burning.

KOANG: Oh, Ger. I’m so sorry. Let me balance out the water for you so that it isn’t too hot.

I kept the water running when I exited the shower so the next person would not suffer the same fate as I.

That was my introduction to America: a scalding. Burned by water, this time literally. It added insult to injury because even here, it seemed, there was no escaping the trauma and reminders of my past.