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Daoud Hari grew up in the Darfur region of Sudan. In his book, The Translator, he describes the harrowing ordeal that followed his capture for associating with journalists:
"I watched the commander's finger pet the trigger. The gun muzzle was hot against my temple. Had he fired it recently, or was it just hot from the sun? I decided that if these were about to be my last thoughts, I should try some better ones instead. So I thought about my family and how I loved them and how I might see my brothers soon.
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The two commanders talked at length. I watched his trigger finger rise and fall like a cobra and then finally slither away. ...
To not get killed is a very good thing. It makes you smile again and again, foolishly, helplessly, for several hours. I was not shot -- humdallah."
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