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I was born into a world of bliss before my life descended into chaos and suffering.
I grew up in a loving middle-class family on the Nile in Sudan, now South Sudan.
My father, a college professor, and my mother, a secretary, provided a nurturing home full of warmth and laughter.
Our extended family, including my grandmother, siblings, and cousins, made our home a vibrant sanctuary.
But peace can fall apart in an instant.
The moment everything changed
The first assassination attempt on my father came like a cold wind.
Then we were engulfed in civil war and at the age of five I was forcibly separated from both my parents.
By the time I arrived in Kenya as an eleven-year-old to live with relatives, I had survived two civil wars, fled through five regions, witnessed bloodshed, and endured heartbreak without both my mother and my father.
Despite my pain, Kenya was a new beginning. I went to school for the first time. Books opened my eyes to a world beyond war and survival.
I was determined to seize every opportunity. I participated in debates, scouts, sports – anything that made me feel alive again, like I was reclaiming the parts of me that war had stolen.
But disaster struck again.
After briefly reuniting with my father when I was eleven, I lost him forever; He was murdered in Sudan when I was fourteen.
His body was never found and I assumed my mother and siblings were dead too.
Without my father’s financial support, I would be homeless.
Sad, I found myself in a Kenyan refugee camp.
My heart felt shattered beyond repair. And that pain still lingers.
Looking for a sense of control
During the chaos, I realized something important: It wasn’t just what happened to me that mattered, but what I made those events mean to me.
I had no control over war or violence, but I could control my response.
I needed a way to cope, something to hold on to when everything else – including memories of my family – slipped away.
Buckets full of hope
I created what I called the “buckets of hope,” inspired by the colorful buckets my grandmother, mother, and aunts once carried. Each symbolized something essential.
Initially a survival technique, these “buckets” evolved into a powerful visualization and mindfulness tool that helps me organize thoughts, emotions, memories, and experiences in ways that promote resilience, growth, and hope.
Each imaginary bucket became a container for my thoughts, giving me clarity and helping me navigate overwhelming emotions.
Yellow held the warmth of family and the sunlight on the Nile.
Red represented danger, a reminder to trust my instincts.
Green symbolized growth and helping others, even in bleak times.
Black represented resilience – the power to endure, just like the earth itself.
These buckets became my lifeline and helped me separate the chaos around me from the story I was telling myself.
They grounded me and gave me a way to survive.
Motherhood as a trigger
I spent three years in the refugee camp in Kenya until, at the age of 17, I was granted a humanitarian visa to Australia and lived in a women’s shelter supported by the St. Vincent de Paul Society.
Thanks to the help of the Red Cross, I discovered that my mother and my siblings were alive and living in a refugee camp in Sudan. Gradually they were able to join me in Australia.
I saw my mother again in Australia at the age of 22, after 17 years of separation.
Five years later I gave birth to my son.
But my own journey through motherhood rekindled old fears.
Abang Anade Othow said becoming a mother connected her to her own childhood, which was difficult to process. Source: Delivered
Every milestone, every birthday brought back memories of my own trauma.
I desperately tried to recall my childhood memories of my mother and my mind recalled a beautiful woman who told me stories, cooked and played dress-up.
But to my horror, my mother told me that the memories I had retrieved were not hers, but my grandmother’s. My mind had distorted my memories to protect me from pain.
And I was terrified. Had I brought my son into a cruel world? What if he faced the same horrors?
Make peace with the past
But teaching him courage forced me to reclaim mine.
Slowly I learned to trust again. Trust the goodness of people and keep hope alive.
Now, through my “buckets of hope” and raising my son, who is a fine young man, I have learned to let go of my fears.
I know he will have his own journey.
Abang Anade Othow has found innovative ways to deal with past trauma. Source: Delivered
Through all these life experiences I found the inspiration to write my memoir – a promise I made to myself a long time ago.
Writing has become my way of making peace with my past.
Now I teach people to separate their circumstances from the stories they tell themselves.
To cherish memories, trust their intuition, seek growth and build resilience.
As I continue to develop these tools, I am reminded every day to be grateful for life’s opportunities.
I not only survived, but I thrived. And that is the legacy I hope to pass on.
Resilience isn’t just about surviving, it’s about embracing life with hope.
Readers seeking crisis support can contact Lifeline on 13 11 14, the Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467 and Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800 (for under 25s). More information and mental health support is available at and on 1300 22 4636.
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And for more stories, visit – a new podcast series from SBS, presented by Kumi Taguchi. From sex and relationships to health, wealth and grief, Insightful offers deeper dives into the lives and first-person stories of former guests from the critically acclaimed TV show Insight.
