It is me.  Maritu.  I live in Africa, in country of Sudan.  I am 12 years old.

Much happen since I write last in book of words.

My mamma, she die of her slim disease (AIDS).  She suddenly took for worse, then she die.  Now I mamma to my 16 brothers and sisters.  Some live away from me so they can get good jobs, but six littler than me; I take care of them.  I hope I do very good job.

My English getting better.  I don't write it so good, but speaking it, it come easier now.  My teachers are very proud of me.  I am proud of me, too.

I very sad.  I miss my mamma.  I no have anybody to talk to, tell my problems to.  I feel alone; I feel that even Allah ignore me.  I pray and I pray to him, but he no hear my cries.  It make me sad, very sad.

Teacher at school say I might get pushed up to grade seven if I continue to do well.  I hope so.  I would like to become a writer of books.  I think I do very well in writing.  I would like to write books for children.  That is my goal.

For a while, I was sick-sick.  I had malaria.  I thought I wsa going to die, but then I went to missions hospital, and they treat me, and I get better.  I don't know how I got there.  One minute, I in my hut; next thing I remember, I wake up in bed, in hospital, a nurse standing over me.  She act like she very worried about me.

It took me long time to get better.  I was very weak, couldn't eat much, as nothing taste good to me.  Not even rice soup, which is usually very good to me.  I wanted nothing more to do than sleep, sleep, sleep.

I had to re-learn how to walk.  I was so weak.  Now I walk just fine.  

Allah, he watch over me, take care of me.

I now live with auntie and uncle.  They mamma's brother and his wife.  They my family now.  My six younger brothers and sisters, they come with me.  So now I have family again, but it not the same.  I still miss my mamma and poppa very much.  My mamma had the slim disease (AIDS), and poppa, he die in the war.  Bad soldiers got him.

Well, I gotta go.  Have to get ready for school.  I will write in my book of words another day.  Until then, see you.

~Love, your friend in Africa, Maritu.