Saliya!!! They’ve started sharing rice oo… where are you?”

Saliya quickly stood up from the corner where she had gone to ease herself. It wasn’t a fancy restroom, not even a pit latrine but it was secluded, in a relatively dark corner, so it could serve the purpose. She didn’t have the luxury of washing her hands. When you live in a place like this where clean water is a scarce commodity, washing hands after easing oneself is indeed a luxury that many could not afford. 

When Saliya eventually arrived at the open square, she had to stand for a while to take in what she saw in front of her. She saw “big cars” with police escorts, the cars that only “big men” and politicians could afford; the cars she only saw in movies. She saw armed police officers, and even soldiers patrolling the whole IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camp that she now calls home. She had never seen anything like this before, not in her twelve years of existence. It felt like a movie, except that this particular movie is reality. Of course, such luxury would be strange to her, she has lived in her village her whole life where life was much simpler. 

Saliya is dark. You could say God used her as a melanin reserve. Is it God’s fault though, when she had to trudge along the rocky path that led to her dad’s farm under the scorching sun, almost every day of the week? She never complained though, because that’s what life meant to her. Anything more than that daily struggle was considered “luxury”. The “darkness” suited her, especially with her lips, her most attractive feature. Some perverted old men often looked at her lips with lustful eyes. They also looked at her chest, they wondered how a young, developing girl could be so endowed already. She always kept a straight face, ignoring the whispers and suggestive stares.  

“Pssssttt… Come and stand in the line! Fast!”

She was brought back to the present. This is her new home, this camp. Her home where she has to share a room with 14 people. Her home where there’s a leaking roof and life becomes unbearable whenever the rains come. Her home where she has to go to a secluded corner to bath, to ease herself. Her home where she has to avoid the “touchy” boys who have probably seen her bathing once or twice. Before she cries herself to sleep every night, she remembers the day it all changed.

“They’re here oo… the bandits have come oo”

“The bandits” had terrorized their village for nearly two months. She had even stopped going to school because nobody knew when they would attack. Everyone was scared of going out, but even death is not as powerful as a man’s pride. Saliya’s father couldn’t just sit at home and watch his family go hungry. He decided to go to the farm that morning but he went alone. Saliya saw her mother go on her knees in tears, pleading with him not to go but he vehemently refused. He went through that door with a smile. He promised Saliya that he would get her fresh milk on his way back from the farm. Saliya never got the milk. She never saw her father again.

As soon as they heard the gunshots, they all ran out of their house, into the “bunker” that had been prepared for such an emergency. They stayed there for over six hours and when they finally came up, their house was already burnt to the ground.

The simple life she lived in the village was “luxury”. This is hell.