A lady? The future had caught up with her while she stood in the same place. She had deemed time irrelevant, because it was as infinite as the air. But time moved even if everything else in the camp remained static.

The man reached his hand to her face. He caressed away a strand of her hair. We are lucky, it is a quiet morning, he said, stroking the side of her arm.

He pointed to the field, to the natural bed, wild grass, roasting sand, wet rocks teeming with insects. The old man took her hand but Saba didn’t move.

People have confused being a refugee with the end of life, he said. They have mistaken being in a camp with being inside a graveyard. We are human beings. We have our needs wherever we are. But I shouldn’t blame you all. I am not young and have suffered the misfortune of war and exile a few times already. I have learned never to leave my desires behind me in the ruins.

The grass around them shook. For a moment, she felt like an animal trapped. His pulse that pounded on her wrist calmed. The old man released her hand. I want a woman to be alive in my arms, he said.

And then he was gone.

She ran up the hill, past the trees, over shrubs, along the valley, zigzagging on another narrow passage, before she sprinted down the slope all the way to the bank of the river. There, she chose a quiet spot and perched on a small stone. Cool water lapped against her shins. There were a few girls scattered along the bank in the far distance to her right washing clothes. Heads bowed. Hands scrubbing.

Saba rubbed her underwear with scentless soap. Her hands weakened for a moment and the river current tugged away her piece of clothing. She threw herself into the water and swam further into the river. Holding her breath, she dived.

From the river, Saba walked deep into the bush and climbed to the top of an acacia tree, spreading her dress on the branches around her. She sat on another branch until it dried. She unwrapped her arms from around her chest, freeing her breasts. The hair under her arms was as long as the dense bush between her legs. She recalled the old man’s warning.

Don’t make the mistake I did when the first war found me when I was young and took suffering to heart, he said. Life is for living even if you are far away from home.

THE BUSINESSMAN

Saba was woken from sleep by the roar of engines. She followed Hagos out of the hut as dozens of lorries made their way into the camp and parked in a row. The square lit up as though it was daytime. A crowd gathered. Saba’s gaze darted over the dust-covered faces on the back of the lorries.

Unlike the previous occasion, when Saba and the current camp’s residents had arrived at this place, there was little weeping. The newcomers sat still on the back of the lorries. Heads dropped low. A woman near Saba raised her voice, asking: Why are you here? We hoped the war would be over. We hoped to make our way back instead of receiving you here.