I talked to Pepsi at the Serendipity Hotel after his shift was done at City Hall. He stirred four brown sugar cubes into his black coffee. “I seen nothing here to match what I seen in the Sudan, Annie. Children with guns killing from the jungles, younger men abducted from Khartoum to forcibly serve in the Armies in the South and older men killed or ransomed, boys with machine guns mowing down Christians in the streets from the backs of open trucks, mostly Muslim there, some Christians, all hating each other like Allah commands it or as though God is on each side. How can God be with everyone, Annie? It doesn"t make sense.”
“No, Pepsi, it doesn"t.”
“My parents are still in the refugee camp in Yida, far as I know, my brothers and sisters dead or captured, that"s worse. I used to be guerill
