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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Faith / Hope
- Published: 01/08/2014
The Journal of Augustine Bamboie
Born 1997, F, from Toledo, Ohio, United StatesJune 14th 2011, The Invasion
Boom! The sounds of my door being kicked in and shots being fired. The loud noises sounded as if it there were a crack of the Earth’s core. Waking me up out of my sleep, heart pounding as if it were going to fall out of my chest. I didn’t really know what was going on, deciding if it were my mom and dad arguing again or it was the day I dreaded. The day my house might be raided because we were Christians. Tonight it was happening, everyone was coming out of their room cautiously, tiptoeing so the intruders couldn’t hear us scattering to my little sister’s room to comfort her. She was gone! We couldn’t figure out where she was. Walking a little faster now we made our way to the living room. There she was in a pool of blood, I managed to cover my mouth to silence the screams that were trying to get loose. I couldn’t stand to see her so helpless - dead. I felt like I had let her down, and I couldn’t save her. Looking around, everything we had was gone from our pots to our silverware. The things we had lost didn’t matter, all I could think about was the image of my sister laying on the floor in her own blood; she must have tried to fight off the intruders while we were asleep. They must have dragged her out of her room first, trying to find the silvers she had hidden under her bed from her last birthday. I tried to fall back asleep on the floor next to her, I couldn’t seem to realize she was gone to a better place. I couldn’t sleep, it seemed as if it should have been me laying on the floor in my pool of blood. I couldn’t take it, it seemed like there was no point of living anymore.
My name is Augustine Bamboie, I live in Central African Republic, also known as CAR. There is a lot going on here. The fight between the Christians and the Muslims. The starving children with no home or parents, and also the filth of the place we live. I can’t stand to walk to school every morning because of the smell of dead bodies from the killings of the night before. I also can’t stand to see the ribs of my cousins and the enflamed mouths of my aunts and uncles. I find myself thinking of ways to make CAR a better place to live. Without help, being only 16 years old, it’s a death sentence. Here they treat kids as if they don’t know anything and they are not smart enough to make a difference. My mom always told me “you haven’t lived long enough”, by this meaning I’m too young to understand anything. I never really understood why she said those things till now, her only living child. I felt as if she was disrespecting me and belittling what I was potentially capable of. Sometimes I felt like screaming at her saying some things I’ve wanted to say for a very long time but I managed to close my mouth and be respectful. I never really understood her lessons and never really understood her theories either. Having my mind set on not understanding or I couldn’t understand seemed to be not working out for me. Soon I realized what would come of a disobedient child. Soon I understood why my mother always said God is the most just discipliner. That day I realized this was going to be the second worst day of my life.
June 14, 2012, The Capture
A year has passed, and I was beginning to feel that things were getting better in the CAR. It had been a painful year of healing for both me and my family. My parents were trying hard to live their Christian profession. The arguments had stopped and my unwillingness to listen had improved.
The day started off as a normal school day. I couldn’t have imagined the day would get worse. It all happened when I was walking to school this morning. I literally had 10 more miles to go, when a person with a weird black mask grabbed me from behind. I couldn’t seem to figure out exactly who it was. I tried to fight back, but he was so much stronger than me. He put his hand over my mouth with some type of strong smelling liquid in it. As soon as he put the hand and towel on my mouth I was knocked out! After that I couldn’t see or hear where I was going.
I was awakened soon after by another man with a black mask on. I slowly tilted my stiff neck and observed my surroundings. It seemed as if I were in a mining cave. My bookbag, shoes and watch were gone. I couldn’t figure out who had taken me from behind. I was more terrified than anything - more paranoid than I have ever been before. There was a bad feeling in my gut, a feeling like never before. A feeling of pain from the men in the black mask kicking me in the stomach. A feeling of being sick as if I were one second away from throwing up all over the sand and dust on the mining cave’s floor. That was just the beginning of it all, the beginning of the most horrible tortures I have ever witnessed. This time I was the one getting tortured.
It all began, first the covering of my mouth with some sort of sticky paper. Then, the beatings, it seemed as if the punches were only getting harder. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before I was getting the wind punched out of me again. I thought of my sister; my sister seemed as if she was watching over me in the mining cave. She was the only thing keeping me sane. I couldn’t seem to even scream, my lungs and chest were pounding in pain. I felt like crying but it hurt too bad to cry. I felt like fighting back but I had no strength to do so. I had no other choice but to sit and take the tortures.
Finally they felt as if they had done enough, I finally had a chance to slow down the hyper ventilating. That night a man had come in stating “You’re free to go” but I was confused, what was the point of this all? Was it really worth almost taking someone else’s life?
August 15, 2012, After the capture
I can’t really begin to explain the way I’m starting to feel. The way the capture has taken its toll on me. Those beatings have been re-playing in my head over and over again. The bruises are still on my chest, It’s still hard to breathe and lay on my side when I lay down to sleep. My mom and dad have begun to see and realize what had happened to me when I was gone. Somehow my teacher had found a way to get to my parents to tell them I had missed school that day. My dad had first yelled at me for skipping school because he didn’t understand what had really happened to me. My mom realized it from the start. She said I hadn’t been myself. I’m usually very perky and outgoing, but after the capture I seemed to stay to myself and lock myself in my room for hours straight. I can’t really explain what the capture had mentally done to me, but I knew something was psychologically wrong. I knew I was slowly becoming psycho. I had to change, I had to find a way to find me again; I had to be free from this evil spirit; and I just had to be me.
September 1st, 2012, Faith
Today I finally understood what my mom was talking about. I finally found Jesus Christ. I understood the meaning of believing in Jesus and having faith. The way my life was slowly turning was the best feeling of my life. I can’t explain how great it feels to know someone is watching over you, someone died for your sins and believed that you have the potential to be anything you want in life. Now since I’ve found better ways of living and thinking there is no reason to write in this journal anymore. I’ve decided to throw away the past and start a new future. This journal was containing the worst memories and was holding me back from what I’m capable of becoming. My dream was to always get my family out of Central African Republic, to start a new life in America. Therefore I am going to push towards that dream. It is my destiny to be a better person in life, to tell America what is happening in CAR and find a way to make CAR a better place to live. This day I will start a new journal- journaling the way the CAR will be delivered.
The Journal of Augustine Bamboie(TaTyanna Miller)
June 14th 2011, The Invasion
Boom! The sounds of my door being kicked in and shots being fired. The loud noises sounded as if it there were a crack of the Earth’s core. Waking me up out of my sleep, heart pounding as if it were going to fall out of my chest. I didn’t really know what was going on, deciding if it were my mom and dad arguing again or it was the day I dreaded. The day my house might be raided because we were Christians. Tonight it was happening, everyone was coming out of their room cautiously, tiptoeing so the intruders couldn’t hear us scattering to my little sister’s room to comfort her. She was gone! We couldn’t figure out where she was. Walking a little faster now we made our way to the living room. There she was in a pool of blood, I managed to cover my mouth to silence the screams that were trying to get loose. I couldn’t stand to see her so helpless - dead. I felt like I had let her down, and I couldn’t save her. Looking around, everything we had was gone from our pots to our silverware. The things we had lost didn’t matter, all I could think about was the image of my sister laying on the floor in her own blood; she must have tried to fight off the intruders while we were asleep. They must have dragged her out of her room first, trying to find the silvers she had hidden under her bed from her last birthday. I tried to fall back asleep on the floor next to her, I couldn’t seem to realize she was gone to a better place. I couldn’t sleep, it seemed as if it should have been me laying on the floor in my pool of blood. I couldn’t take it, it seemed like there was no point of living anymore.
My name is Augustine Bamboie, I live in Central African Republic, also known as CAR. There is a lot going on here. The fight between the Christians and the Muslims. The starving children with no home or parents, and also the filth of the place we live. I can’t stand to walk to school every morning because of the smell of dead bodies from the killings of the night before. I also can’t stand to see the ribs of my cousins and the enflamed mouths of my aunts and uncles. I find myself thinking of ways to make CAR a better place to live. Without help, being only 16 years old, it’s a death sentence. Here they treat kids as if they don’t know anything and they are not smart enough to make a difference. My mom always told me “you haven’t lived long enough”, by this meaning I’m too young to understand anything. I never really understood why she said those things till now, her only living child. I felt as if she was disrespecting me and belittling what I was potentially capable of. Sometimes I felt like screaming at her saying some things I’ve wanted to say for a very long time but I managed to close my mouth and be respectful. I never really understood her lessons and never really understood her theories either. Having my mind set on not understanding or I couldn’t understand seemed to be not working out for me. Soon I realized what would come of a disobedient child. Soon I understood why my mother always said God is the most just discipliner. That day I realized this was going to be the second worst day of my life.
June 14, 2012, The Capture
A year has passed, and I was beginning to feel that things were getting better in the CAR. It had been a painful year of healing for both me and my family. My parents were trying hard to live their Christian profession. The arguments had stopped and my unwillingness to listen had improved.
The day started off as a normal school day. I couldn’t have imagined the day would get worse. It all happened when I was walking to school this morning. I literally had 10 more miles to go, when a person with a weird black mask grabbed me from behind. I couldn’t seem to figure out exactly who it was. I tried to fight back, but he was so much stronger than me. He put his hand over my mouth with some type of strong smelling liquid in it. As soon as he put the hand and towel on my mouth I was knocked out! After that I couldn’t see or hear where I was going.
I was awakened soon after by another man with a black mask on. I slowly tilted my stiff neck and observed my surroundings. It seemed as if I were in a mining cave. My bookbag, shoes and watch were gone. I couldn’t figure out who had taken me from behind. I was more terrified than anything - more paranoid than I have ever been before. There was a bad feeling in my gut, a feeling like never before. A feeling of pain from the men in the black mask kicking me in the stomach. A feeling of being sick as if I were one second away from throwing up all over the sand and dust on the mining cave’s floor. That was just the beginning of it all, the beginning of the most horrible tortures I have ever witnessed. This time I was the one getting tortured.
It all began, first the covering of my mouth with some sort of sticky paper. Then, the beatings, it seemed as if the punches were only getting harder. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before I was getting the wind punched out of me again. I thought of my sister; my sister seemed as if she was watching over me in the mining cave. She was the only thing keeping me sane. I couldn’t seem to even scream, my lungs and chest were pounding in pain. I felt like crying but it hurt too bad to cry. I felt like fighting back but I had no strength to do so. I had no other choice but to sit and take the tortures.
Finally they felt as if they had done enough, I finally had a chance to slow down the hyper ventilating. That night a man had come in stating “You’re free to go” but I was confused, what was the point of this all? Was it really worth almost taking someone else’s life?
August 15, 2012, After the capture
I can’t really begin to explain the way I’m starting to feel. The way the capture has taken its toll on me. Those beatings have been re-playing in my head over and over again. The bruises are still on my chest, It’s still hard to breathe and lay on my side when I lay down to sleep. My mom and dad have begun to see and realize what had happened to me when I was gone. Somehow my teacher had found a way to get to my parents to tell them I had missed school that day. My dad had first yelled at me for skipping school because he didn’t understand what had really happened to me. My mom realized it from the start. She said I hadn’t been myself. I’m usually very perky and outgoing, but after the capture I seemed to stay to myself and lock myself in my room for hours straight. I can’t really explain what the capture had mentally done to me, but I knew something was psychologically wrong. I knew I was slowly becoming psycho. I had to change, I had to find a way to find me again; I had to be free from this evil spirit; and I just had to be me.
September 1st, 2012, Faith
Today I finally understood what my mom was talking about. I finally found Jesus Christ. I understood the meaning of believing in Jesus and having faith. The way my life was slowly turning was the best feeling of my life. I can’t explain how great it feels to know someone is watching over you, someone died for your sins and believed that you have the potential to be anything you want in life. Now since I’ve found better ways of living and thinking there is no reason to write in this journal anymore. I’ve decided to throw away the past and start a new future. This journal was containing the worst memories and was holding me back from what I’m capable of becoming. My dream was to always get my family out of Central African Republic, to start a new life in America. Therefore I am going to push towards that dream. It is my destiny to be a better person in life, to tell America what is happening in CAR and find a way to make CAR a better place to live. This day I will start a new journal- journaling the way the CAR will be delivered.
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