There is no Heaven on Earth

I thought I was going to die on that terrible night. The ground I was sleeping on shuddered constantly like the giants, in my grandfather's stories, were coming to squash our village. However, it was worse than a giant, it was like we were witnessing the devil. My family were being slaughtered in front of my own eyes, so I ran as far away as possible. I walked for so long, I probably the whole of Sudan. There were thousands of other Dinka boys walking with me through the Sudan, battling the murderous sun. Boys would just fall on the sizzling floor and they wouldn't wake up. The sun was killing us one by one and I could feel it's hot breath on my blistering back ready to dry me out.

We came to a refugee camp in Kenya where they took care of us and gave us the name "Lost Boys". After some years the camp told us that we were going to live in America! We would get work!

When we arrived in America it was all so strange. You see, the whole place was so clean and there were so many white people. I felt very out of place in America because I felt that I was too black even amongst the black community. The refugee people introduced us to our new homes and showed us all these crazy things like using this electricity. Well, it was all so interesting and exciting. However as life went on, things got tougher and my room mates were becoming so untidy. Only me and Peter were helping out around the apartment. We became good friends Peter and I so I told him that soon we were going to go and buy a house together and buy a beautiful car... But sooner I realised that what I had said was all just a fantasy; like our African myths.

Life in America is very stressful because my family want me to send money, but my work doesn't give me much money therefore it is hard to help then when I am struggling here myself. I think that my family back in Africa will be angry at me and this makes me feel extremely bleak. Even Peter has gone to live this new life in Kansas and he left me so abruptly which shattered me because I feel even more lonely and frustrated. As life went on, life got harder. The Ameircan culture has countless rules! They are bizarre! I really wish the SPLA had informed us about these regulations! Oh my gosh... It is so dreadful!

The white culture can really offence me. They think that all the black people are criminals and they cower like little calves that are being attacked by a lion. But the white people have a reason to be scared because the black people here have the characteristics of a criminal and this is bad because us Dinka tribe are not criminals.

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d to forget my Dinka culture because my Dinka culture is nothing like America. It is harder than I thought it would be because I don't know anything about the American culture. We go to work (which I have gotten good at), we eat and then nothing else. There is not much to live for. It has not gotten better since Africa. Today they ask me to pay the rent, so I got my money and put in the place where they collected it. Some days later they told me that they didn't get it. These people dont know hw hard it is to pay the rent on a 7$ per hour salary! I don't know what they will do now.

What I think will happen in two years or more, is impossible to say with the situation I'm in. I think that I might go back to Sudan, but America is my new home now so I will not leave unless it is very important. I found out that there is a course where you can learn to create electricity so I think I will do this and bring electricity back to Africa.

The days are long and hard, I guess there really is no Heaven on Earth.

Santino.