Just when it seemed things were finally okay for us, we heard war stirring again. In the distance we saw the flashing lights and heard the terrible thunder. Suddenly there were changes in the camp. Many people began to leave. Soon there was not enough food.

The people of Ethiopia began fighting, and we could not stay in their country anymore. We were chased back to the border of Sudan by war.

It was the rainy season and the huge Gilo River was swollen with water, blocking us from getting to Sudan on the opposite bank. We gathered on the riverbank. Many boys were afraid to enter the river. The current was strong and the rushing water roared like an angry lion. I ordered my group to stay together and to help those who were sick or not strong swimmers.

When we fled the refugee camp, I had taken my schoolbooks with me. As I stood at the river’s edge, I decided I would not leave them behind. They were my future—my mother and father.

I tied my schoolbooks around my waist, grabbed Chuti, and jumped into the river. I was so afraid, I don’t remember being in the water. I only remember hauling Chuti and myself up onto the opposite bank.

I made sure Chuti was okay, and then waited anxiously for the rest of our group. As boys began to emerge from the river I prayed and counted.

One… 12… 22… 27… 31… 35!

We were reunited with everyone in our group—every last one!

We prayed to God to take care of the souls of the brothers we had lost in the river. We also thanked Him for sparing us and prayed for a safe end to our journey.