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when one of the servants left, then another. A short while later The Mom and the kids began packing their things, and I realized they were moving away because of work or personal trouble The Dad had. These goings-on were a major change from the sameness of my days, and I watched out of the corner of my eye with avid interest. I was excited! We were down to just a few servants who were helping close up the house. Could this possibly mean I was going home? The thought was exhilarating; I barely dared to think about it.
    I couldn’t wait to see my family—especially my baby sister and my other siblings. It seemed like an eternity since I had last seen them. I didn’t know if my family still lived in the same apartment, but I didn’t care. If I could be with my family, it didn’t matter if we lived in a hole in the ground.
    One day not long after that The Mom said, “Your parents are coming tomorrow.” I was so eager to see them! When my mother came, she gave me a hug, but both she and my dad arrived with cautious expressions on their faces. We all went right into the kitchen where The Mom said, “She is not yet done paying off her sister’s debt. Our family is moving to the United States, and we need to bring one servant with us. That person will be the girl.”
    The girl, of course, was me. I had no concept of what this meant. I was ten years old, but I had never been to school. I didn’t know what the United States was, or where it was. For all I knew it could have been a two-hour car ride away. But the distance didn’t matter. I was devastated that I had to stay with my captors. Most of the other people who had worked or lived in the house had gone home to their families. Why couldn’t I go too?
    I was quite apprehensive about going to the United States. The only thing I had seen of it had been on the news. I didn’t understand that it was another country, but I did realize that it was different from where I was now. Over the years my captors and their family and friends had often said what a bad place the US was, and I wondered with some unease why we were going there.
    The Mom then handed my parents a pile of paperwork. “We will be gone only a few months,” she said. Then I was asked to leave the room while my parents and The Mom talked further.
    •    •    •
    After my parents left, The Mom sent me out to have my hair cut. This was the first time I had ever been to a salon. In fact, I didn’t even know such places existed. The experience was traumatic for me because my hair at this time was quite long and fell almost to my knees. After the haircut my hair came only to the middle of my neck. Then, because my hair is naturally curly, they chemically straightened it—possibly in an attempt to alter my appearance.
    I cried and cried because I loved my hair. I didn’t want to have it cut, but the lady at the salon had received instructions from The Mom, which meant I had no options. Back home The Mom saw my tears and told me to “get over it.” Then she dressed me in a shirt that belonged to her youngest daughter. The shirt was red with tiny flowers on it. I never have liked the color red. Finally, I was introduced to a man named Aymen, who said, “Okay, let’s go. Let’s get started.”
    I had no idea what he meant. Get started for what? Where were we going? I was nervous when I left with him, but what else could I have done? My parents, The Mom, and now this man had tried to explain what was going to happen, but I had no concept of the ocean, airplanes, different countries, or customs other than what I knew in Egypt. My knowledge of life beyond my own was limited; there was no possibility of me understanding what was going on, other than that I knew I was not going home to be with my family. That’s what I knew for sure, and for me that was the only thing that mattered.
    Here I call the man by his first name, Aymen, but I think of him as “The Man That I Came With.” First he took me to