Awia was viewed as a traitor. Someone who could kill his parents and take their possessions. “You killed your parents because you want to take their wealth,” the elders revealed. “How could I kill my own parents? And who said that I was the one who did that?” Awia asked in shock. “Be ready to contest with us. We shall see.” Banished from the only home he had ever known, Awia took his small box, which was not burned, carried it on his shoulders, and walked out. With every step, he glanced at the house—once a place of laughter and happiness—now gradually fading from his eyes. Truly, Awia did not know where he was going; he had only hope that the gods would lead him to wherever they wanted. Then, all of a sudden, he began to feel pain in his legs, and he could not proceed. He glanced around, and all he saw were bushes and big trees all over him. He paced a little longer and went to sit under one of the neem trees in the forest. Shortly after, sleep took over his eyes, and he slept long and deeply. When he awoke, the weight of his fate pressed upon him. He raised his voice to the skies, “Our fathers, our ancestors, are you not alive? I am innocent, and you know that. What have I or my parents done to deserve this?” Awia’s journey was only beginning. Would he survive in a world that had already judged him guilty?