A while later, a woman took me by the hand and led me to a place where there were other children. A big man with a thick beard asked, “What’s your name, boy?” “E-ta-bo,” I replied through my tears.

I wondered if children were also sold at the market. I stopped crying and looked around to see if anyone would buy the children in the room. Soon a woman came in and picked up one of the children. “I will be the next one to be taken away,” I thought. “And then I’ll never go home again!” I started crying once more.