Poor Girls

By Mark Morey

Poor Girls is storytelling at its finest, immersing you in a place far away, where you live the triumphs and tragedies of the two key characters, with countless insights, large and small, and endings that totally makes sense. Read Poor Girls because you will not be disappointed. Ann Reed – author.

Put simply, Poor Girls is great storytelling. Mary Parks – author.

Poor Girls takes you there, and afterwards you won't be quite the same. Nicolas Ward - author

Rose Juma and her best friend, Susan Biar, have a good life by South Sudanese standards, with their home town of Yirol largely untouched by past wars, especially school which they both attend. But Rose and Susan are tall and beautiful, which ironically works against them.

Alice Murray and Steve Hall, travel to Juba, South Sudan, to raise money to help the women and children of this poor nation. For sure South Sudanese are doing it tough, and women are doing it tougher, but how to get on top of the biggest problem, the marriage of teen girls, eludes Alice until she travels to the town of Yirol. There, the pieces fall into place, but Alice has now put herself and her partner into terrible danger.

Poor Girls is set in a nation already devastated by decades of war when it was formed in 2011, and now is attempting to recover in a world that doesn't do African nations any favours

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Morey
• Release date: Nov 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645624410

Mark Morey

Writing a novel didn't cross my mind until relatively recently, when I went to the local library and couldn't find a book that interested me. That led me consider a new pastime. Write a book. That book may never be published, but I felt my follow-up cross-cultural crime with romance hybrid set in Russia had more potential. So much so that I wrote a sequel that took those characters on a journey to a very dark place.Once those books were published and garnered good reviews I wrote in a very different place and time, and my two novels set in Victorian Britain and published in July and August of 2014. I followed those up with various novels set in various places at various times, with the most recent being a story set in the Syrian Civil War.

Book preview

Prologue

Yirol, South Sudan, April 2018

Susan lay in her bed in near darkness, but not quite dark. After a long day at school, Susan didn't understand why she wasn't asleep or even tired, but she wasn't. Susan heard footsteps as her máàr (mother) walked along the corridor to her bedroom, only Susan heard two sets of footsteps and smelled tobacco. Máàr and a man approached, which was odd because guáàr (father) was away fighting in the war.

It's good to see you, David, Máàr said in Thokreel.

It's always good to see you, Achol, David Hoth murmured in his deep voice.

Máàr and David Hoth; the charcoal burner from along the street whose wife died a few months ago. They went into Máàr's room. After a short while, Susan heard her máàr's bed creak a little, then creak regularly and evenly: creak, creak, creak, creak. Susan smiled to herself. Her friends had talked about sex, and now Máàr and David Hoth were having sex, while Guáàr was away from home, fighting his silly war. Susan rolled onto her other side to sleep, while in the background, Máàr's bed creaked and creaked.

* * *

Saturdays were especially busy. Máàr worked which meant Susan had to look after her younger brother John, and her younger sisters Mary and Eliza, like after school but for all day. Susan climbed out of her bed, the upper of one of the two bunks in their room, went to the latrine in the far corner of the backyard, and then took her clothes to the bathroom where she washed and dressed. Susan went outside to set the fire by stacking paper and kindling between the bricks that made their fireplace, and lit with a match. When that caught and was blazing, Susan placed charcoal before going inside to mix sorghum flour, water and groundnut paste into the cooking pot. Then she heard knocking on their front door; Susan crossed to open it, while John, Mary and Eliza were all up now. Susan opened the front door to face a young policeman.

"Sabah alkhayr," he greeted. (Good morning)

Sabah alkhayr.

My name's Constable Achol, the policeman said in Arabic. Is your mother at home?

My mother's at work. Susan was curious. Why are you here?

I have bad news for you, Susan. Your father has been killed.

This explained things. Was my father killed in the war?

Your father was killed in an ambush, in the war.

Susan expected this. I understand. I'll tell my mother when she gets home.

How old are you?

I'm age 12. Susan realised. My mother has to work to support us.

"Of course. My condolences. Mae Alsalama." (Goodbye)

"Mae Alsalama."

He turned away and Susan closed the front door. Guáàr wouldn't be coming back, which made life difficult for Máàr, who worked hard but didn't really make enough money. There were few jobs for women in Yirol and none paid well. Susan returned to the kitchen, mixed the porridge thoroughly, and then set the pot on the fireplace to cook while stirring from time to time. Guáàr shouldn't have gone to war when he didn't have to, and now he left his family in a mess. Oh well, Máàr would have to sort things out when she got home, for Guáàr's funeral and everything, while Susan stirred the porridge. Susan went into the kitchen to pour four glasses of milk to place on the kitchen table. Susan then brought the pot inside to serve up their porridge.

Breakfast is ready! Susan called in Thokreel.

John, Eliza and Mary came to sit at the table, while Susan handed their bowls around. She wondered if she should tell her brother and sisters their guáàr was dead, but decided not. Máàr could do that. Susan drank some milk and ate her porridge. War or not, death or not, life went on. Life always went on for those who were left.

Other Works by Mark Morey

The Red Sun will Come - June 2012

Souls in Darkness - August 2012

The Governess and the Stalker - July 2014

Maidens in the Night - September 2014

One Hundred Days - September 2015

The Last Great Race – April 2016

The Adulterous Bride – October 2016

No Darkness – March 2017

In Our Memories – November 2017

Blood Never Sleeps – March 2018

Ketsumeidan – October 2018

Yuejin – Aim High! – July 2019

Wenge – Destroy The Old! – July 2019

Ice – February 2020

Across the Border – July 2020

Burrangong Creek – January 2021

Overreach – May 2021

Thunderbolt – November 2021

Into Smoke – March 2022

Upon The Sea – August 2022

Glossary

Boda Boda: motorcycle taxi

Groundnuts: peanuts. Groundnut paste is equivalent to peanut butter.

Indaya: illegal drinking establishments in South Sudan.

Jieng: the largest tribe in South Sudan, others call Dinka but they call themselves Jieng (plural). Jieng have a number of regional dialects of their Jieng language.

Muonyjang: the singular of Jieng.

Rickshaws: tricycle taxi

Reel: one of the smaller tribes of South Sudan, numbering about 100,000. They call themselves Reel, others call them Atuot.

Thokreel: language of the Reel people.

Souk Sita – Juba, South Sudan

Konyo Konyo Market – Juba, South Sudan

Monthly Rent Lodges at Jebel Market Lodge – Juba, South Sudan

Chapter One

Melbourne, Australia, September 2020

Alice stood at the wall to ceiling glass door of their apartment, gazing across a city, slumbering. Beyond their cat on the balcony, nothing seemed to move in a city of never-ending lockdowns. Alice sipped her camomile tea while pondering a once in a century global pandemic. They weren't allowed outside except for four essential reasons, although one of those reasons was exercise; they could only travel five kilometres when going outside, and there was a curfew from five pm to eight am. One consequence of this pandemic was Alice's plans to help a nation in dire straits were delayed, even though that nation and those problems would still be there when eventually they could travel. Vaccines were close to ready so travel was only a matter of time. Alice sipped her tea as Steve came alongside.

It's not all bad, he said.

What's not all bad?

Whatever you think is bad. No, we have pandemic income support and we'll be able to travel soon enough.

Alice sometimes wondered this. Are you alright with my plans?

They're our plans.

These were Alice's plans which Steve agreed to.

I'm fine with what we've planned. We've spoken with South Sudanese here, where it's clear South Sudan needs as much help as it can get; especially women and children.

That was Alice's logic – South Sudan was a patriarchal nation, but if done right it was possible to help women and children without trampling their culture to death. The charity she chose: the UK-based Women and Children for Women and Children, offered to give Alice and Steve freedom to gather case studies to help raise funds, and recommend programs where these funds would best help women and children there. Fortunately Zoom enabled this to be arranged from one side of the globe to the other, and now they waited for vaccinations, whenever that might be. Despite what Steve said; Alice wondered.

Are you sure?

I'm sure.

Alice drank her tea.

It's fine weather for Melbourne in September, Steve said. Let's go outside to walk for exercise.

Their one bedroom apartment was driving Alice mad, apart from Zoom meetings, social media and sex. It would be good to get outside, as Alice finished her tea and put her mug in the dishwasher. From the counter she took a fresh mask from the box, to slip it on as she followed Steve out to the corridor. Alice knew Steve supported her idea, her logic was sound after all, and soon enough they would make a difference.

Chapter Two

Yirol, South Sudan, September 2020

On a warm and humid afternoon beneath a threatening sky, Rose, with her best friend Susan, walked along the muddy road while avoiding the worst puddles. There were times during the wet season, May to November, when Rose wished it was the dry season, even though she knew the dry season, with heat and bright sunshine, with was far from fun. No, on Monday September 28, 2020, the first day of their second week after the six-month Covid pandemic break, it was good to walking home from school after learning so much. That afternoon in Primary Seven, their mathematics lesson was rates, ratios and percentages; things that few girls in South Sudan would ever understand. In the distance, a well-dressed young man approached. Rose watched as he closed.

That's Joseph Mawat, Susan said in Thokreel.

Do you know him? Rose asked.

Yes I do, but not very well. He works for his guáàr, building houses.

School finished at three-forty five and now it must have been just past four, while businesses normally worked until five. Oh well, Joseph Mawat wasn't working that afternoon as he closed. Now he stopped walking as Rose and Susan passed by, for Joseph to turn and walk alongside.

"Many (hello) girls; are you heading home from school?"

No, we're walking to the moon, Susan said, and Rose laughed.

No, what I meant....

You're too old for us, Joseph Mawat, so don't even think about it.

Think about what?

My máàr told me that boys your age only think about one thing.

Rose's máàr said the same, like all máàrs.

Is it alright to ask your names? Joseph Mawat asked.

Rose thought that would be alright. I'm Rose Juma.

Many, Rose. Where do you live?

I live just along here.

Can I walk with you, for your protection?

Protection from boys like you, who only think about one thing?

Susan laughed.

I promise not to do anything.

Rose stopped walking to look at Joseph Mawat. He was safe, she supposed, but she didn't need protection being so close to home. I'm fine.

What about you?

I'm Susan Biar.

"Your monyman (stepfather) David Hoth, burns charcoal."

Even though Yirol was a town of more than 10,000 people, most who lived there knew those who mattered, like charcoal-burners, an essential fuel for cooking.

You know who I am, Susan said, while Rose thought this wasn't an accidental meeting on their way home from school. Rose continued to walk with Joseph Mawat still alongside. At the crossroad, Rose with Susan turned left until the second house along, where Rose stopped.

"Taan (goodbye) Susan; see you tomorrow."

Taan Rose.

Joseph Mawat looked on as Rose opened their dark green front door to enter their green-painted timber house, small with four rooms: a living room, a kitchen with a dining area, two bedrooms, and a bathroom which had a bath and a basin. Inside was painted pale green, in cement sheeting with slats of dark green timber hiding joints. Outside, of course, was the latrine.

Suddenly, a terrible commotion came from Susan's house next door: a man and a woman shouting. Quiet for a moment followed by raised voices for several minutes, but seemed much longer. Susan lived an unhappy life, but usually not as bad as this. And then a woman's scream, followed by silence which seemed dangerous. Rose waited for more but all was quiet. That sounded bad; hopefully Susan wasn't involved, although she had a temper. Rose went to the kitchen.

Many Máàr!

Many Rose; where are David, Jacob and Tabitha?

I walked home with Susan.

Rose! Máàr snapped.

It's alright, Máàr, Susan and I are safe together. Rose heard the front door, to turn and see her older brother David, her younger brother Jacob and her younger sister Tabitha, enter their house.

You should all walk together.

Rose preferred to walk with her best friend, but wasn't going to argue. Instead, she took her bag to her room which she placed on the upper left bunk bed, before returning to Máàr.

You can help me cook, Máàr said.

What are we having for dinner?

Máàr sighed and Rose knew why. Although Guáàr had a good job, prices climbed ever higher, or as Teacher Deng explained earlier today, 29.7 percent a year; a terribly big number, which meant food and other essentials were getting ever-more expensive, and surely it was hard for Máàr to feed a family of six.

Mutton, spinach and tomato, and sorghum porridge with groundnuts, Máàr said

I'll help, Máàr.

Máàr headed to the kitchen where the gas cooker stood unused. Even if bottles of gas were available, they could never afford them. Rose took the box of matches before strolling to their dirt backyard with a vegetable garden at the far end: groundnuts planted on the left and spinach planted on the right. Brushwood fences separated their yard from their neighbours, with Susan's family living next door. Rose set the fire while Máàr brought out the pot of sorghum porridge and two, thick rags. Kindling burned brightly; igniting the charcoal, while Máàr sat on one of the blue plastic chairs to wait for the fire.

How was school? Máàr asked.

Today we learned percentages.

Was that interesting?

Máàr, like many women in now South Sudan, only went to school for a few years, long enough to learn how to speak some English, read and count, but not much more than that. In villages where most South Sudanese lived, many didn't even know that much, thanks to war.

Learning percentages was interesting.

I'm pleased for you, Rose.

Máàr placed the pot of sorghum, water and groundnuts onto the four pointed stones that made up their fireplace, and from time to time stirred this porridge with her lofrega. When the porridge was ready, Máàr used the two, thick rags to carry the bowl into the kitchen, before returning with the frypan which had sliced mutton, spinach and tomato. Máàr now placed the frypan over the fire while Rose went inside to pour five glasses of milk and set them on the rectangular, timber table, and an extra glass for Guáàr. Máàr brought the frypan inside the kitchen to dish up, while Guáàr entered the kitchen to sit at the table, no doubt hungry.

Many Guáàr.

Many Rose.

Máàr carried six plates to the table with the rest of the family now waiting. Guáàr had his usual bottle of merissa, which he poured into his glass before bowing his head.

Oh Lord, thank you for this meal which we are about to share, amen.

Amen, they all repeated.

Rose ate her dinner, almost the same meal each evening but that didn't matter. Their meal was warm and filling, when many in her country didn't have either, and that was something to be thankful for.

* * *

Susan opened the door of their crowded house to be almost overcome by the stink of tobacco. She went to the kitchen for Máàr to enter from the living room.

Susan, Máàr said. Your monyman wants you to meet someone.

Susan followed into the living room, where an old man sat in one of the armchairs while he smoked a pipe. A really old man: lined and haggard with a silver goatee beard.

Susan, Monyman said. This is Gatluak Lual and he wants to marry you.

Susan didn't know what that meant, until it hit her.

No! I won't marry this old man! Susan shouted.

Monyman leapt to his feet. You'll do what I tell you to do, he bellowed.

He's old.

Gatluak Lual's 59 and he owns a petrol station.

I don't care; I'm not marrying an old man! Susan knew what this was about. He wants me to be his second or third wife.

You'll be his third wife.

Fuck, no!

Susan! Máàr exclaimed, but Susan didn't care.

Fuck you, Monyman, and fuck you too, old man! Susan marched to the old man and grabbed his arms to pull him out of the armchair. He stood.

Get out of this house! she ordered.

This is my house! Monyman said.

Susan pushed at the old man, just as Monyman pushed Susan who spun around.

You're not marrying me at age 14! Susan faced the old man. You, fuck off!

I'm sorry.... Monyman said to the old man.

I'll go, he said as he left the room, and Susan heard the front door open and close. Good, gone.

I'm marrying you to Gatluak Lual, whether you want to or not! Monyman said.

Beat her, Peter, her step-brother, said from just inside the doorway.

Susan knew what this was about. You want to marry me to the old man, for Peter to have cattle so he can marry. Isn't this right?

What we do with your bride price is our business.

You can beat me, you can tie me up and drag me to the wedding, but I'm not doing it!

But you must, Máàr said.

At age 14 to an old man? No, never!

Unfortunately Susan didn't have a bedroom to hide, because she slept on the kitchen floor with her younger brother and two younger sisters. Susan wondered what to do, but anything was better than this.

I'm going! she announced.

Where are you going? Máàr asked.

It doesn't matter. Susan turned away to walk to the corridor only Moneyman grabbed her. She wriggled and squirmed to get out of his grasp, she was as tall as him after all, and then when he let her go, Susan punched his stomach as hard as she could. He groaned and doubled over just as Peter rushed to Susan but she knew what to do. She punched between his legs and he fell too. Moneyman stood straight.

Fuck you, Susan! he roared.

Susan turned to walk to the corridor, to suddenly feel a searing pain in the back of her right shoulder. Fuck, that hurt! Susan screamed with the pain.

David! Máàr exclaimed.

It's alright, Monyman said, as he pulled something out of Susan's shoulder. Susan saw him holding a pocket knife covered in blood, her blood, as her shoulder burned and burned. Then she felt warm wetness.

I'm bleeding.

David, take her to hospital, Máàr said.

Silence for a moment. Yeah, alright. Come with me.

Susan felt the wetness soaking into her blouse.

I'm bleeding!

Yeah, well, it's not far to the hospital.

Monyman grabbed Susan's arm to lead her to the front door. They went outside to walk, and Monyman was right; it wasn't far. When her injury was dealt with; Susan knew she had no choice. Peter wanted cattle so he could get married, and a rich, old man with a business could pay more cattle to marry Susan. No, Susan had to leave before they did that to her. Susan didn't know where she could go, but for sure she had to leave, as they walked to Yirol Hospital with Susan's shoulder aching worse than she imagined possible.

Chapter Three

That morning, Rose walked with David, Jacob and Tabitha to Yirol Academy, across the road from the bus station connecting Yirol to Rumbek and to Juba. Hundreds and hundreds of children in uniform: boys in white shirts, dark green trousers and black shoes, girls in white blouses, dark green pleated skirts to their knees, and black shoes, converged on the seven rectangular, brick school buildings built around the perimeter of the damp, dirt quadrangle, making up the primary school. There they filed into their seven grades, two lines per grade, with Rose looking for Susan but not seeing her. First noise and commotion from Susan's home and now she wasn't at school. Rose feared for the worst, seeing that Susan had a difficult life. Oh well, there wasn't anything Rose could do for Susan, there and then.

Principal Chol gave his morning address, where at school they always spoke in English. Once more, Principal Chol asked boys to behave themselves in class and not make disturbances, and with that they were allowed to file into their room, and take their seats at long benches behind long tables, while Teacher Deng went to the blackboard where he stood and faced the class. That morning's class was Social Studies, one of Rose's favourite subjects, which she enjoyed until the bell rang for their morning break.

They were free to go outside to the quadrangle, where Rose met up with her friends Mary, Liz, Angelina and Rebecca.

Where's Susan? Mary asked Rose.

Susan must be sick, Rose replied; not wanting talk about the commotion she heard.

Do you want to play? Rebecca asked.

I have the skipping rope, Mary said.

Indeed, Mary was the custodian of the skipping rope. Boys played soccer and girls jumped rope. They found space for Rose and Mary to swing the rope, while Liz, Angelina and Rebecca jumped it. After a while, Liz and Angelina swung the rope for Rose, Mary and Rebecca to jump it. The morning break never was long enough when Principal Chol clanged the bell for their second lesson, being Religious Education. Although important, that lesson wasn't interesting and took a long time to pass, until Principal Chol rang the bell for lunch. That stayed at their tables for the women from WFP to bring lunch in plastic bowls, always rice and beans. That was filling but not at all tasty. By the time the bowls were handed out, they ate their lunches, and then the bowls were collected, Principal Chol was rang the bell for their afternoon lessons, being English which Rose didn't like. She spoke English well, she read and wrote English well, but she didn't need to learn about adjectives and adverbs and past participles. That lesson dragged until their afternoon break, where they were free to go outside.

Once more, Rose met up with her friends Mary, Liz, Angelina and Rebecca, and two more friends, Achol and Sarah, where they decided to play the Bushback Game. But all too soon, the bell clanged for their final lesson, which was mathematics, where they learned more about percentages and practiced calculating percentages, too. Finally, the bell rang to go home. After saying 'taan' to her friends, Rose walked to the open gate where she waited for David, Jacob and Tabitha, so they could walk home together, although that wasn't really necessary. Even though two years older, David was in Primary Eight which was his last year of free education. In December, David would finish school and then he would have to find a job, although there were few jobs to be had in Yirol. At least Rose had another year of school before she had to decide on her future. After a 20 minute walk they arrived home, with David leading Rose, Jacob and Tabitha into the house. Now curious, Rose went to Máàr.

Susan wasn't at school today; I'm going to see her.

Alright.

Rose went to knock on the dark, brown door of the brown-painted house, next door. Susan's mother answered while frowning.

Many Achol Lual, Rose greeted. Is Susan home?

We had an accident yesterday and Susan was hurt. She's in bed, resting. You can see her.

Achol Lual led Rose to the second bedroom, which had two bunk beds like Rose's house, although Rose knew some of their family slept on the kitchen floor.

Many Susan.

Many Rose. We had an accident last night and I was hurt. I went to the hospital where they bandaged me, and now I must rest for a while.

This must have been a bad accident. Does it hurt? Rose asked.

Yes, it hurts. The doctor said I should rest for two weeks.

That was a long time. Is there anything I can do?

You should look after yourself, Rose.

That was a strange thing to say. Are you sure there's nothing I can do about the schoolwork you're missing?

Just make sure you pass.

Rose wondered. Is there anything wrong?

At the hospital they gave me pain killers which I need to take three times a day, and they make me tired.

This must be serious. I understand. Taan Susan.

Taan Rose.

Rose left to walk home where she heard men's voices. Rose went to her room when Guáàr came to her doorway.

Many Rose.

Many Guáàr.

Can you come to the living room?

Rose entered the room, where Joseph Mawat sat in one of the two, brown canvas armchairs, very much the worse for wear, and Máàr sat on the matching couch, also tatty.

Many Rose, Joseph said.

Many Joseph.

Rose, Joseph wants to marry you, Guáàr said, before he sat in the other armchair.

Rose's stomach churned. No! she exclaimed. I'm too young!

You're old enough to be a wife.

That was correct this past year as Rose looked to Máàr. Máàr was 16 when she got married.

Your máàr was age 16; but age 14 or age 16 makes little difference. The lot of a woman is to cook, clean, care for her husband and raise his children.

Rose knew, one day, she would be a wife and a mother, even though, somehow, she hoped for more.

Times are tough; you know this, Guáàr said. He turned to Joseph. Rose is tall and strong, she's not been sick one day in her life, and she's well-educated in Primary Seven. Her bride price will be substantial. Rose, Joseph's young, he comes from a good family and he has a good job. You should be pleased that he's interested in you.

Rose knew that sometimes old men wanted new, young wives, as a third or fourth wife, or their wife died and they needed another one, and being older they had enough money to buy cattle to do this. As bad as this was, it could be worse.

I know, she said.

This will take time to negotiate, Máàr said. You might even finish this year's school.

Rose liked school with every day a new discovery, and she would have preferred to complete Primary Eight. But, as Guáàr said, times were tough and one less mouth to feed would make a difference.

Joseph, Guáàr said. You should come here with your family so we can commence our negotiations.

I'll speak with my family.

Joseph stood and Guáàr stood too.

We'll speak again, Guáàr said as they shook hands.

Taan, Joseph offered.

Taan, Guáàr offered.

Joseph left and closed the front door of their house behind him. Máàr stood.

Come on, Rose, we now need to cook.

Rose went to the backyard, to set up the fire for their usual meal of meat and vegetables, and sorghum porridge with groundnuts. Oh well, marriage was always going to happen, although Rose felt, at age 14, she was too young. Never mind, as Máàr came outside with the frypan. Soon the fire was blazing, as Rose was now absorbed in watching Máàr cook. But that still didn't stop Rose thinking, times being tough or not, she was too young for marriage.

* * *

Brigitte felt heavy inside when she went to their bedroom, where Koang waited but not dressed in his pyjamas. She wondered.

Can we talk? Brigitte asked.

I know you want to talk about Rose. Times are tough....

We got married during the war with Sudan.

Even that war wasn't as tough as now.

Then why did we fight a war for independence from Sudan when life has gone worse?

Silence for a moment, apart from loud music playing somewhere nearby. Maybe things would be even worse without independence from Sudan. That doesn't matter; you know that times are tough, especially with this Covid pandemic. One less mouth to feed, less clothes, less school uniforms, less textbooks, will make a difference.

Clothes, especially that uniform, were expensive, as were textbooks and other school supplies like notebooks, pens and pencils, on top of increasing prices of rent, food, charcoal and everything else.

Besides, it's different now to when you were Rose's age. Maybe it's because of the war or maybe something else, I don't know, but we don't know what might happen. Instead of paying 100 cattle for Rose, Joseph Mawat could sweet talk her and then she'd be worth next to nothing to us. Worse that I wouldn't have enough bride price for David's marriage; when his turn comes.

That was silly. Rose wouldn't do that.

How do you know?

Brigitte only knew one thing. Rose is a good girl.

Rose might be raped.

That was possible for a girl Rose's age or girls even younger, 12 or 13.

I've made up my mind, Koang said, If we can agree a fair bride price with Joseph Mawat's family.

Brigitte didn't agree; 14 was young to be a wife and maybe a mother at 15, even though many girls married at 14 or 15 these days. Oh well, Koang had made up his mind and there wasn't anything Brigitte could do about that, except prepare Rose for married life.

Now we'll make love, Koang said.

Brigitte knew as she kicked her sandals off, removed her blue, cotton dress, unclipped her bra and slid her panties off. Sex was sweet and always would be; which was something she had to prepare Rose for. Brigitte climbed onto their bed while Koang pushed the sheet and blankets away. Koang hugged and kissed Brigitte as she took him in her arms, her heart now running fast as she felt his hard muscles and his warmth. She loved him and she loved sweet sex.

Chapter Four

Until she recovered, Susan slept in the unused bunk in the second bedroom. She wasn't allowed to get out of bed more than necessary, which was really boring. This was going to be the longest two weeks of Susan's life. The past few days gave her ample time to think. Just then, Máàr entered the room to sit on the lower bunk of the other bed.

Monyman still wants to marry me to that old man, Susan said.

"Yes, I know. You'll have to leave here, like you said you would. You should go to Juba to live with your Wac (Aunt) Nyabol."

That would work, and Wac Nyabol was Susan's real family, although Máàr couldn't read and write. Do you want me to write a letter to Wac Nyabol?

Write a letter to explain what happened, and when you get there, show Wac Nyabol this letter.

Can you bring me a pad, a pen and something to lean it against?

Máàr returned with a pad, a pen and Susan's school notebook to lean against.

Susan, write this, Máàr said. Nyabol, David wants Susan to marry an old man for the bride price to pay for his oldest son to marry. Can you look after Susan and employ her in your teashop, safe away from David?

Susan wrote this.

"I'm sure Nyabol and your Guanleen (Uncle) Abraham will look after you. I can't afford to pay the bus fare to Juba, though."

That wouldn't be a problem. I'll hitch a ride.

Silence for a moment. You be careful, Susan.

I'll be careful.

Some men will want to have sex with you, in exchange for giving you a ride. Do you know what sex is?

Susan smiled at those memories. I know what sex is.

How do you know?

Susan looked away from Máàr. I just know, she mumbled.

Do you know sex is how we make babies?

I know.

It's good that you know about sex. Make sure that when men ask for sex, you don't give it away.

Susan knew men could pull out and she wouldn't fall pregnant, but she wasn't going to trade her first time for a ride to Juba. Susan thought about her next step.

When I'm recovered, on a day like today, I'll pack my clothes and other things, and I'll walk to the livestock market. I'll get a lift from there.

Be careful, Susan.

Don't worry, Máàr, I'll be careful.

I hope we're doing the right thing.

Susan thought back to that old man, Gatluak Lual, with his pipe, his silver beard and being his third wife, and his other wives hating Susan because she was young and had his affection. No matter what happened in Juba, it couldn't be as bad as that. Susan was certain, absolutely certain, that going to Juba to live with Wac Nyabol was her only option.

Chapter Five

Breakfast was sorghum porridge with groundnuts, along with glasses of milk for the children and tea for the adults. Rose and Máàr got up first, with Rose lighting the fire while Máàr prepared the porridge before she cooked it. Later, when the porridge was ready, Máàr put the kettle on the fire until the water boiled to make tea in their battered, tin teapot. That Saturday, Máàr told Rose to put extra charcoal to make tea for guests arriving later in the morning. Rose guessed what this was about and of course she was disappointed, but supposed this was inevitable. After the family finished breakfast, Máàr and Rose washed and dried their plates and cooking bowls. When that was finished, Máàr went to the bedroom.

David, can you take Jacob and Tabitha out to play?

Why, Máàr?

Please, David.

I don't want to.

David did nothing around their home, and the one time he was asked to do something he didn't want to.

David, take Jacob and Tabitha out to play, Guáàr said firmly.

Alright! David exclaimed.

After that fuss, they headed away. Shortly after, Rose heard knocking on their door.

Rose, Máàr said. Can you boil water and make six glasses of tea? After that, you must go to your room.

Yes, Máàr.

Rose filled the kettle from the tap to set it on the