Once upon a time...
I
guess this is how I would begin if I was writing a fiction novel
or a story for a child's book, and maybe I would end on "...and they
lived happily ever after." Unfortunately reality is too cruel for
happily ever after. The world we live in is cold and unforgiving. As you
sit in your comfortable chair and read this story, a mass murder of
children is carried out somewhere on earth.
My name is Fatimah Suliman. I live in a small village located in a remote part of southern Sudan.
I was raped when I was 10 years old. Thugs from the north came to my
village and attacked all of us, raping all the women, stealing our food,
killing most of our men, and taking our belongings. They said they were
soldiers fighting for God. They said that this is their land and we are
there unlawfully. Three of these thugs came into our hut where I, my
mother, and two sisters were hiding. First, they raped my mother. They
told us that if we didn't watch they would kill her after they rape her.
So we watched. They tore off her clothes but she never cried or looked
at us. She just froze with a black stare and not a word or a cry of
pain. The three men took turns raping her for an hour. To us it seemed like
an eternity. We sat there watching and praying that soon we would wake
up from this nightmare. Neither one of us dared to close our eyes for
fear of our mother being killed. When they finished raping her they
stormed through our place eating the food my mother had prepared for us
and drinking all of the boiled water. One of the thugs looked at me and
asked how old I was. I said I was 10 and he smiled from ear to ear. Then
he turned to his fellow thugs and said "the younger, the better". He
ordered me to come closer to him. For the first time my mother cried out
and cussed at the men. She screamed like a mad woman, standing in front
of us trying to protect us from their hands. The thug who asked for my
age got very angry and punched my mother in her stomach with all of his
strength. He hit her repeatedly in the face with the back of his rifle
until she fell to the floor soaked in blood. My sisters and I begged him
to stop but he was deaf to our cries. He delivered one final blow to
her head and all we heard was this "crack" sound. We saw blood pouring
out of her head as she closed her eyes. This was the end of her misery.
Now it was our turn. I was the first one to be raped. They made my
sisters watch. After the three thugs raped me, six of their friends came
in to joined them. I lost count after twenty. That night my sisters and I
were their sex slaves. They did whatever they wanted and no one was
there to stop them. I cried for my father and my older brother. I
wondered where they were. Why had they abandoned us, why weren't they
here to protect us, were they dead like my mother? When morning came
these "soldiers of God" started burning all of the huts. Most of the
people were dead, but some were still alive. I could hear their voices
and the burning of their flesh. Our hut was the last to be burned. I
though we were finished. My sisters and I were to be burned alive in our
own home. They made us stand outside where I saw about 30 or 40 little
children gathered together. One of the thugs ordered them to go inside
our hut. After all of the children were in, the doors were tightly shut.
Gasoline was poured all over our home and a torch thrown onto the roof.
Instantly the entire hut lit up with wild fire. I heard them cry
"mommy", "daddy", "papa", "mamma"...their cries were too loud, frantic,
horrified, and desperate. The little children burned and burned, and
burned...and then there was silence. I kept pinching my self. Something
hot was running down my legs. It was blood but I felt no pain. I was
numb. Numb in my heart, numb in my soul, just numb. I could no longer
feel. The thugs took my sisters away in their cars and left me all
alone. I ran after their trucks. I screamed for them to leave my sisters
alone or kill me. One of the cars stopped. The window of the passenger
sit rolled down and a man said to me, "We left you alive so that you can
tell of this story to those who are to come. Tell of our power and our
will to protect our land. Tell them what happens when they come to steal
and live in a land that does not belong to them." I could not go back
to that village. I was no longer a human.
I ran
away to a neighboring village where my aunt and uncle lived. I told them
that thugs had killed my family but I never told them anything more. No
matter how many times they asked, I kept to the same made up story. I
told them I blacked out and saw noting. When I woke up everyone was
dead. I saw nothing, I felt nothing, I heard nothing.
Today I am 34 years old and HIV/AIDS positive. Miraculously I birthed
no children by my rapists. I thank God for that....if there is a God. My
disease has progressed beyond medicinal treatment and the doctors have
done all they can. They tell me my death is near. What they don't know
is that I am already dead. I died at age 10. I died with my mother, I
died with my father, I
died with my brother, I burned with the little children. My body is
alive but my soul is deceased...and what's a living body with a dead soul?
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