A Long Way Gone_ Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah [40]
We walked up and down the village. Most people weren’t asleep; we could hear them whispering when the dogs took breaks or went to cry on opposite ends of the village. I remembered a few weeks back when Saidu had spoken about parts of him slowly dying each passing day, as we carried on with our journey. Perhaps all of him had died that night when he spoke in that strange voice after we had survived that attack by men with machetes, axes, and spears, I thought. My hands and feet began to shake, and they continued to do so throughout the night. I was worried and kept calling out my friends’ names, so that they wouldn’t fall asleep. I was afraid if any did, he was going to leave us. Early in the morning, Kanei told us that we were going to leave after sunrise and head for the next village. “I can’t stand another night listening to these dogs. They terrify me,” he said.
That morning we thanked the men who had helped bury Saidu. “You will always know where he is laid,” one of the men said. I nodded in agreement, but I knew that the chances of coming back to the village were slim, as we had no control over our future. We knew only how to survive.
As we left the village, everyone lined up to watch us go. I was scared, as this reminded me of when we had walked through the village with Saidu’s body. We went by the cemetery, which was at the edge of town, by the path that led to where we hoped to reunite with our families. The sun penetrated the graveyard, and as we stood there, a slight breeze blew, causing the trees surrounding the mounds of earth to sway gracefully. I felt a chill at the back of my neck, as if someone were softly blowing on me. A strand of smoke was rising from the village, making its way to the sky. I watched it as it disappeared. We were leaving our friend, or as my grandmother would put it, “His temporary journey in this world had ended.” We, on the other hand, had to continue.
When we started to walk away, we all began to sob. The cockcrows faded, only to make us aware of our silence, the silence that asked, Who will be next to leave us? The question was in our eyes when we looked at each other. We walked fast as if trying to stay in the daytime, afraid that nightfall would turn over the uncertain pages of our lives.
11
WE HAD BEEN WALKING in silence through the night until we stopped to listen to the singing of morning birds shattering the silence of the day. As we sat on the side of the path, Moriba began to sob. He was sitting away from us, something he usually did with Saidu. He played with a piece of branch, trying to distract himself from what he was feeling. Everyone except me started to sob and moved next to Moriba, who was now crying loudly. I sat by myself, covering my face with the palms of my hands to hold back my tears. After a few minutes, my friends stopped crying. We continued on without saying a word to each other. We all knew that we could grieve only for a short while in order to continue staying alive.
“I look forward to getting to this village. Ah, I will give my mother a very tight hug.” Alhaji smiled and then continued. “She always complains, though, when I give her a tight hug: ‘If you love me, stop squeezing my old bones so I can be alive longer.’ She is funny.”
We giggled.
“I have a feeling that we will find our families, or at least news of them.” Kanei stretched his hands as if trying to catch the sun. He looked at Alhaji, who was smiling uncontrollably. “I heard you have a beautiful sister. I am still just your friend, right?” We all started laughing. Alhaji jumped on Kanei’s back, and they began to wrestle in the grass. When they were done, they followed us on the path, singing one of S. E. Rogie’s songs, “Nor look me bad eye, nor weigh me