Her family receives no assistance
Our situation was not improving. My mother was going to cultivate the villagers' fields for a handful of coins.
She left at dawn. I watched her go, my throat tight with fear of not seeing her again. Other displaced women had told us of sudden attacks in the fields, of women raped and left for dead. After losing my father, I wasn't ready to lose my mother.
While she worked in the fields, my brothers and I would go and fetch water from the nearest free water point, two kilometres away. We were paid next to nothing by the villagers.
This situation tormented my mother. She would never have wanted her children to work instead of going to school. She was afraid something would happen to us on the way, that we'd meet dangerous people. But she had no choice. We no longer had a choice.
One day, my mother returned with good news. A farmer was lending her a plot of land. My mother would be able to cultivate her field and earn an living, just like before. She would no longer have to walk for miles, exposed to the dangers of armed groups, death and rape. And I secretly hoped I'd be able to go back to school and make new friends. Just like before.
But alas, it didn't happen. Suddenly, the farmer decided to take back his field. He accused my mother of having illegally cultivated his plot.
I could feel the suspicious eyes on us. The family who housed us threatened to evict us if we didn't pay higher rent. My mother returned to farming far from the village.
With each new day, we didn't know if we'd have enough to eat. Our mother brought back what she could from her day's harvest. A handful of millet here, a few ears of corn there. Often, we only ate once a day.
We couldn't afford to use the neighbourhood water point. It was too expensive for us. So, my brothers and I drank water wherever we could find it – the river, springs... It wasn't long before one of my little brothers died of diarrhoea and dehydration. May he rest in peace.
I watched the village girls go to school with envy. I too wanted to learn and have fun like a normal 13-year-old girl. Instead, I was at home with my brothers.
The day my period arrived, I didn't know what to do. I didn't have any sanitary protection, just a cloth that irritated my thighs from rubbing. I wished I could talk to my friends about these difficult changes.
In the squalor of this dirty, smelly room, I replayed dark thoughts. That night when violence destroyed my life kept coming back. I thought of my father. I wanted to die to find him.
Things didn't get any better. I saw my mother exhausted. I saw my brothers grow up never having been to school. Now they were at the mercy of adults with bad intentions, ready to exploit them or put a gun in their hands.
As I continued to grow up, my daily life no longer made any sense to me. I had no hope and no prospects to hold on to.
What if things were different? Read what would have happened to Georgine if she had received aid.
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