The Parallel World

Adam stepped into the white UN truck after stepping out of the airplane at Kilambèa’s only working airport. His interpreter, Sabrina, was sitting in the back seat. It was going to be a long day for them. They were heading to the refugee camp located twenty miles from Kilambèa’s center, St. Germaine. He had to conduct five interviews today and wanted to get into the mind-set. He looked outside and was happy that the tires of the jeep were creating a thick brown layer of dust around the car from the dry dirt road. Then he wouldn’t have to see the lost faces as they drove by. The worst was looking into their eyes to see sadness, anger, and frustration staring back. No, the worst was not having the answer or means to give them their lives and family back. Adam looked in the mirror at Sabrina. She was a native who began working as a translator for the first UN troops after the war.

He remembered the day that Sabrina finally opened up to him about her past. They had worked closely with each other for a year, but had never past the superficial relationship until the day that Sabrina was sitting in his office after hours sipping on a drink. Adam remembered the room filling with silence until Sabrina’s voice had pierced the air. She had taken Adam into her confidence for which Adam was forever grateful. She had described the events that took place around her in her small village. Adam had heard a flowing story about how the war was still affecting Sabrina’s life years after its dissolve. Adam had thought it amazing that Sabrina first earned money for her and her family by working as an interpreter for the peace keeping force before seeking asylum as a refugee in Holland.

She had confessed that it was hard leaving her family behind, but had known that moving outside of Kilambèa was the only way that she could support her family and save her own young life. Sabrina had lived in an asylum center after she had been taken into custody by immigration officials at Schipol Airport in Amsterdam. During her stay, she had endured the interviews, fought depression and dreamed of the day that she could earn money again.

The day that Sabrina had received her asylum decision was beautiful, warm and sunny, but Sabrina had fought mixed emotions inside. She had been entering a new phase in life in her new country and leaving the country she had known her entire life behind.

Adam looked in the mirror again knowing that he would have to watch her carefully on this trip. The anniversary date of the beginning of the war was approaching, and Adam knew that this time of year was especially difficult for Sabrina.

Sabrina was looking straight ahead not daring to look to the left or right. She hated coming back to Kilambèa, but knew that this was the only way to see justice served. This war had taken six years of her life away. Because of these power hungry psychopaths, Sabrina had lost the only home she had ever known, her parents had lost their jobs because they didn’t support their ‘brothers’. Her twin brother had been killed in cross fire. Now her parents were reduced to waiting for rations from the UN, monetary help from Sabrina, and stability in the government and their future. Sabrina knew that they shouldn’t hold their breath, but didn’t want to discourage them. Their children’s lives were torn apart with one in the grave and the other living in The Hague. She just had to hold on for the next four days and then she would return to a sense of normalcy in The Hague, a safe feeling that she feverishly gripped onto every moment in The Hague.

The jeep entered the refugee camp and continued to drive straight through. The left of the camp looked the same as the right side. Multiple white tents covered the grounds like clouds with a few white trailers intricately located inside the parameter of the camp. Adam knew what the trailers were used for. There was always a trailer for registration, two more for cooking volumes of food, two trailers for medical help, three trailers containing the showers, and two trailers for administration and shelter for the aides. The jeep was headed for the administration trailer. They knew that Adam was coming and he was hoping that a spare room had been set up for his use. He needed privacy if the victims were going to not only talk, but hopefully talk freely.

Cathy, the lead coordinator of the camp, was standing in the door way. Adam got out of the car.

“Good morning, Cathy. I’m shocked to see you standing here.” Adam walked over to give Cathy a hug. “How are you?” he asked.

“I couldn’t miss seeing you. I’m about to walk over to registration, but wanted to personally show you to your office. How are you doing?” Cathy looked inquisitively at Adam. Cathy was Adam’s mother’s best friend and she wanted to make sure that Adam was as comfortable as could be in this type of situation.

“I’m doing fine, Cat. I always feel a sense of humility when I come here or travel to any worn torn country, but I’m good. How are things going here?” Adam inquired.

“Oh, we’d have to take longer than the walk to your office for me to answer that question. How about you get settled here and we meet for dinner tonight? The British base is nearby and we could go and have some dinner there tonight. Get you away from this mess for a little bit,” Cathy said.

“Cat, I’m sure you know the answer to that,” Adam replied.

“Great. Here’s your office and I’ll pick you up at the end of the day.” Cathy gestured towards the trailer before walking away to begin her long day.

Adam walked inside to find a sparsely decorated office that contained a portable collapsible desk, four chairs, a telephone, water bottles, an ash tray, and an electrical outlet. He began organizing his materials and setting up his computer. Sabrina walked in and began to do the same. He would remember later to invite her to dinner with Cat. He was sure that she would also want a break from the refugee camp and hopefully the memories.

There was a knock on the trailer door and a small old woman walked in and sat down. She was very grandmotherly, but at the same time you could see that she had had a harsh life. The wrinkles in her ash brown skin told many stories of a harsh life. Her eyes were dull as if life had already escaped her body. Adam wondered if she even remembered how to smile. According to the summary provided to Adam, she was seventy-six years old and had lost every single family member in the war.

She was alone, but contrary to her outer look, it was said that she was very helpful in the camp with her fellow residents. Maybe, Alex thought, helping the others is how she was able to get up on a daily basis and carry on. It also stated that she had no home to return to. They wondered, with her age and all, if she would even survive to testify at trial, whenever that would occur. At least she could testify today in the form of a statement, Adam thought.

“Good morning, Ms. Ntanga. My name is Adam Ferguson and this is Ms. Sabrina Ndabala. Thank you for coming to talk with us this morning. I am an investigator at the prosecutor’s office at the International War Crimes Tribunal and Ms. Sabrina is an interpreter for the same office. As you’ve been told, we’ve come today to talk to you about your experiences during the war. I’ll ask you specific questions that I will record here on my laptop and Ms. Sabrina is going to translate our entire conversation. Now, I do need to let you know that your answers may help the prosecution build a case against Mr. Kimbala. You may even be called to testify during the trial. You don’t have to make a decision now on whether you would like to testify. I’m just letting you know that the option exists.”

Ms. Ntanga interrupted Adam, “I have no problem with telling my story at a trial.”