Surviving Tabora
Home was a peaceful place for most of us, but in my ride there was no place to call home. So don’t be afraid as I tell you my journey… no wait wrong word I would say, nightmare. It all started like this, I saw the orangish, brown rust tint of the letter T bulging out of the sign as we rumble down the road. ‘KAMBI TABORA’ which means ‘camp tabora’ in english which is a popular town overtaken by those republicans. Bump, rattle shake are the only noises we hear when we enter. In my ears I sense a cry throughout this filthy dump, a cry so emotional it would make you feel pain for your own being. My focus is snapped in half by the piercing roar of the fiery guards. “Off the truck now!” The guard screeches with his automatic rifle gun pointed at our heads waiting for one of us to make a mistake. One by one I nervously wait for my name to be called that my hands are so clammy it is like a pond of water in my hands. “Truvor!? Truvor!” the guard screamed in our ears that it felt the whole world …show more content…
At 9:46 tonight I will escape, 9:45 is coming in quick and the ground around me is hopping around as if it had butterflies in my stomach. I race out of my hut and run to the border. Crunch is the only sound I hear and I can’t tell if it’s me or the guards. As I go to the border I feel someone breathing down my throat, I swiftly throw my rock at the triggered wire as it shocked the whole camp up. I swiftly slid to the other side of the camp and the woman left a tunnel for me through the ground and covered it with sticks and stones. As I saw the wonders of the outside world that I had been missing for 3 years; in the background my ears blacked out the other noises of the guards tearing others apart and screams and sobs of the weepers. Then all was silent, just me and the world. I had to find my way home; home a word I couldn’t use for the longest of
Home was a peaceful place for most of us, but in my ride there was no place to call home. So don’t be afraid as I tell you my journey… no wait wrong word I would say, nightmare. It all started like this, I saw the orangish, brown rust tint of the letter T bulging out of the sign as we rumble down the road. ‘KAMBI TABORA’ which means ‘camp tabora’ in english which is a popular town overtaken by those republicans. Bump, rattle shake are the only noises we hear when we enter. In my ears I sense a cry throughout this filthy dump, a cry so emotional it would make you feel pain for your own being. My focus is snapped in half by the piercing roar of the fiery guards. “Off the truck now!” The guard screeches with his automatic rifle gun pointed at our heads waiting for one of us to make a mistake. One by one I nervously wait for my name to be called that my hands are so clammy it is like a pond of water in my hands. “Truvor!? Truvor!” the guard screamed in our ears that it felt the whole world …show more content…
At 9:46 tonight I will escape, 9:45 is coming in quick and the ground around me is hopping around as if it had butterflies in my stomach. I race out of my hut and run to the border. Crunch is the only sound I hear and I can’t tell if it’s me or the guards. As I go to the border I feel someone breathing down my throat, I swiftly throw my rock at the triggered wire as it shocked the whole camp up. I swiftly slid to the other side of the camp and the woman left a tunnel for me through the ground and covered it with sticks and stones. As I saw the wonders of the outside world that I had been missing for 3 years; in the background my ears blacked out the other noises of the guards tearing others apart and screams and sobs of the weepers. Then all was silent, just me and the world. I had to find my way home; home a word I couldn’t use for the longest of