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My stupid sister says she wants to be a Sudanese baby in Darfur so Daddy will love her. Now she’s gone AWOL. Mommy says when we find her this time, she’ll wish she was a motherless orphan. It’s just emotion talking; we’re famously emotional. Daddy’s famous for loving children in Darfur. The kids who disappear. He gets their pictures in the paper. He gets their names “out there.” He leaves the door to his office open, even on sick days, but we know not to disturb him when he’s working, which is always. Even with the interviewer, he was eating just enough to take his pills and with his other hand he was sending emails about missing children. He took over my room for his sick bed and most of my sister’s room for his files and folders. Do you see why I feel like a refugee? she said, last time she left. Daddy gets up early when he goes to bed at all. He says, Evil doesn’t sleep and neither can the truth, and someone who could leak the truth is always at a desk in another time zone. But he should sleep. He’s not getting better, even with our marrow. Me, I’d like a regular birthday with candles and presents. I want to change the world, too, but closer to home. I told the interviewer: Everyone can do something. If teaching Shakespeare is helpful, I’ll do that. See what he has to say about politics. What I should have said: If strongly-worded emails could stop kidnappings, I’d drop out of the eighth grade and save whole villages before lunch. Maybe my stupid sister’s gone to Africa this time. Daddy can get her picture in the paper. Mommy’s crying and I have to wonder why wouldn’t she be.

Original Copyright © January 15, 2007 as Daddy Loves Darfur
Revised Copyright © January 22, 2026 as Daddy Loves Sudanese Babies