Back in 1999, when I was eight, I worried that I wasn't tough enough to make it through the cold world my mother was trying so hard to prepare me for. Back then everything was hard for us. I never thought we would make it as far as we've gotten right now. (People say things like life's hard all the time but no one knows how hard it could actually get). Let me tell you what its like to move from your country to another one, it feels like you're starting everything all over again from baby steps, starting with talking to learning how to write and read. I know what you're thinking 'What could be so bad about that, right?' Now throw in being in a new place where you have no idea nor expectations about what's ahead for your future. What do you think now? Not all that exciting, huh?

It wasn't until my seventh birthday that talk started about moving to America. Being young it didn't occur to me how much this decision would affect my well being. I didn't really think about it until the day came when we started packing our lodges in Sudan. I remember that day like it was yesterday, saying good bye to all my friends like I was going to be back in a week or so. The hardest part was saying bye to my best friend, who by the way I barely remember anything about. Now that I think about it we could meet each other in the street and I wouldn't recognize him. So there we were on a plane leaving everything most important to us family, friends, culture, tradition, basically life without looking back.

Being on a plane for the first time is weird. It's like riding a roller coaster without those protective padding on. I fell asleep to fight the thought of death knocking at my door any moment. A few hours later my mom woke me up because she couldn't hold the excitement of seeing America for the first time ever. Looking through the window I kind of expected more based on what I've heard from people. Apparently its suppose to be this great country where money grow out of trees with flying cars and beds that put you in your PJ's without lifting a finger. Imagine my surprise the first night the stayed in New York. Have you ever seen 'Tarzan' the movie? I went though the same experience only with a lot more people being really crowded in one place. The hotel we ended up staying in was really nice, but that's coming from a guy who's never been in a hotel before so that's not much. Looking back I can honestly say I've been in better places. We went out side to check out the views; the buildings were so amazing.
Despite the streets being so busy we made it across the street to see the twin Towers or whatever those building next to each other were called. Its was so cool seeing it in person, kind of like seeing your favorite car face to face. I wanted to go in but my mom still had that protective barrier being in a new place and all. We kept walking around the corner to see more crazy, tall places but after seeing the first two buildings everything else just seemed normal.
After we had our personal tour of New York it was finally time to meet people. Looking across the streets I could see some kids playing a game of some sort with two dice. It looked so simple I couldn't tell what was so fun about it so I chose not to participate when they gave me a hand signifying to join them. Still I walked there to get a closer look because my curiosity would never let it's go if I didn't satisfy its craving. Up close made the game look even more stupid to me, one guy rolls then the other one rolls I didn't get it. After a few more rolls one of the guys picked up some money I didn't really notice was there until right at the moment which is good because being as stupid as I am I probably would have tried to pick up making them mad or something. One of the guys looked weird to me He had on a long jacket with some jeans that looked like they were about to fall of any minute ha-ha. The one looked almost like a cartoon because of how skinny he was. He reminded me of those little stick people I use to draw. The game went on for a little while before I became too bored to withstand it forcing me to leave before it ended. I kept walking for more excitement only to find out nothing else will raise my energy level. I guest I had all the Wowing I can handle.
Coming back to my room at the hotel I was hammered with questions about our
Surrounding like no else went to observe the new land, but I knew they just wanted my opinion to see if we all agreed about this being the right move. Still it didn't really matter what I thought anymore because were already here. Nothing could be done but laugh and act like I enjoyed it even when part of me wished I was back in my old room waiting for one of my friends to come try to get me out of the house to head to the lake or something. One of the few memories I have is of my friend dragging me out of the house to swim because there weren't a lot of things to do. Even now it haunts me like a precious thought slowly being forgotten and eventually replaced with something most people would consider a joke, including myself. I guess that's why when people ask me about Africa I say I don't know--out of pain still being kept for leaving not only my friends but also forgetting about them as well. How long will this keep happening only God will tell.