Africa (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sometimes the best way to deal with a traumatic event is to bury it deep down and forget about it. That's what Kam and Ukari had done. Other than a simple inquiry to see if she was alright, Kam didn't pry too much into the details of what the men did to her the night before.

Kam and Ukari spoke to each other entirely in French. "[I like you better with short hair,]" Ukari said with a smile, brushing the long piece of matted hair from Kam's face.

"[You remember what I look like with short hair?]" Kam asked.

"[Of course, I remember like it was yesterday.]"

"[I don't believe you,]" Kam said with a smile.

"[I even remember what you were wearing. You were wearing these American clothes and had this cute American haircut, and you spoke in this beautiful American accent.]"

"[I take it you have a thing for American culture?]"

"[Yes, but you already knew that. I always heard it was the land of freedom and opportunity. So for me, a poor girl with neither of those things... it was always my dream to go there.]"

"[Maybe one day you will get your wish.]"

"[Maybe my wish already came true. America came to me.]"

Kam smiled and then quickly changed the subject, this time speaking in English. "So, I think the best plan of escape is to go to the north side of the compound. I've seen it once before and there is a secondary exit. I'm not sure where that road leads, but anywhere is better than here."

"Why the north side?" Ukari asked.

"They know my face everywhere else. I need to go to another part of the compound where they don't know me."

"How you going to do that?"

"They are going to take me."

"I don't know, it sounds risky."

"Yes, but with high risk comes high reward. I'm hedging my bets. If I'm right, I can escape. If I'm wrong, well, how much worse could it possibly get?"

"They'll beat you."

"I've been beaten."

"They may chop off your hand."

"No, I don't think they would do that to a good worker."

"They could kill you."

"I need to do something that will garner punishment, but not death."

"What are you going to do?" Ukari asked.

"I'm going to get caught stealing food."

"So what happens if... when you escape?" Ukari asked. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course, my plan is to get us all out of here, especially you."

"Okay, American hero."

"I'm being serious. I won't leave without getting everyone free."

"What you're talking about cannot be done."

"I'm American, I can do anything," Kam joked. Ukari rolled her eyes.

The morning started like any other. But as the day progressed, Kam was becoming more and more intolerant of the abuse that he had been a witness to on a daily basis. He saw the guards yell and hit people for no reason, spit on them, and show a general lack of empathy toward the elder workers.

At night, Kam was eager to settle in with Ukari when all of the sudden, the door kicked open and two men barged in. They marched right up to Ukari and hauled her to her feet. Kam stood up and grabbed Ukari by the wrist.

"You're not taking her."

"Do you want to die?" one of the guards shouted, aiming his gun at Kam's face.

Kam backed off, he just looked at Ukari helplessly. There was nothing he could do. This seemed to satisfy the soldiers as they were more interested in taking Ukari than to deal with Kam. They turned around and the two soldiers escorted Ukari outside. Kam just couldn't idly stand by and allow Ukari to be taken advantage of again.

Despite his better judgement, he charged out after them and tackled one of the guards to the ground and began to strangle him. The other soldier was quick to jump in with a swift kick to Kam's ribs. Kam rolled off the soldier and was now curled up on the ground. The two soldiers began to pummel him, laying a beating to Kam unlike anything he had ever experienced. He was lucky they didn't shoot him.

Kam was on his back, staring up at two barrels that were pointed at him. The soldiers began shouting at him, but because he had been studying French, he knew exactly what they were saying. However, he did not want to let them know he could understand them.

"Please, please, don't shoot," he said, putting his hands up.

"Get up," one of the men said, kicking the bottom of Kam's bare foot. Kam slowly rose to his feet. Every part of him ached and he was bleeding in several places. As soon as he stood up, he was struck in the face with the butt-end of the rifle. He telegraphed it so that he could move with blow and lessen the impact. Once again, he was on the ground. From there, the two guards proceeded to kick and stomp him some more. They needed to make an example out of him for all the spectators.

One of the guards grabbed the chains on Kam's wrist and hauled him to his feet.

"Don't you ever disrespect me or anyone from my tribe. This is your last warning."

Kam cowered in fear. He was hauled to his feet, barely able to stand, and dragged off to another part of the compound. Just like the other times, he was tossed in a large hole with a thatch-stitched roof, sealing him in. If this situation was anything like last time, he would remain there all night with no food, shower, and most importantly, no supervision.