Why did you kill my FAMILY? Cried The little boy.
It was not the sound of thunder or rain but bombs; I almost lost consciousness when the missiles landed on our house that day.
The heat and explosions from the attack threw scattered planks from our house towards me and my little sister “khairat”.
Everything seemed like a horror movie but the painful truth was that it was reality and actually happening to me.
I was just 7year old boy and my sister 4years old. We were all covered in the pool of our own blood from the attack.
So confused I was and did not know what to do; I thought I was dead because everything all of a sudden felt so different. I looked up to the sky trying to know what was happening. I turned by my side and realized that my little khairat has “given up her ghost”. “
“KHAIRAT please wake up I beg you” so I cried out but my little sister was lying there helplessly dead.
I looked into her cute little eyes and couldn’t believe that just few minutes ago we were actually playing and laughing. “What a strange world” I thought to myself.
I looked towards my parent’s house and could not believe what I saw; tears rolled down my eyes because I knew my family was gone forever. No one could have survived such destruction in the house. My mum and dad were inside making dinner when the house was attacked. I was now an orphan with no family to call my ownL.
I felt like screaming so loud for the whole world to hear me cry and my agony but I was too weak to shout for help. I just remained lying on the ground as uncontrollable tears kept rolling down my eyes.
“What have I done to deserve this?” I thought to myself as I watched our house burn completely to ashes with my mum and dad inside it.
I wish that I had died that day in the explosion; I wish I never lived to experience such horrors in my life; I knew I will always be hunted by the disturbing image of that day. I closed my eyes, kept silent as I wished to join my family.
“Wake up wake up; some group of men shouted to my ear bringing me back to reality of me still being alive”
I opened my eyes and saw a group of men checking if my sister was still alive.
One of the men carried me up and put me on his shoulders as he rushed me to the hospital; the others also took my sisters and followed us to the hospital. The man’s white robe carrying me was all covered in my blood but looking at how he ran to take me to the hospital; I knew that material damage did not matter to him if he had to save my life.
When we arrived the hospital it looked like a death house; people were screaming and shouting and I could see other children who were my age; some lost their arms and some had “lost the battle to death”.
After the doctors examined me they called the man who brought me and whispered something to him; I could swear I heard what the man said or maybe it was just my wishful thinking.
The doctor came close to me and told me to be strong that I needed to undergo an emergency procedure; the doctor looked at me as if there was no hope for me.
I was taken to the inner hospital chamber for my emergency procedure. The man who brought me went to the operating room with me; he was so kind and gentle as he held my hands and told me I would be OK during the procedures; I knew he was lying from the look on his face but the truth is that I already knew I was already “fighting a losing battle”.
I was given an injection to make me feel less pain during the process; I knew the injection started having an effect on me when the pain I felt slowly disappeared. I closed my eyes as I remembered the good old days when my family were with me; when my mum kissed me goodnight and the good old days when I was jealous of my little sister for being given my toys. The thoughts felt so real and I wish I could rewind the good days with my family.
With all those thoughts of my family I felt all relaxed in my heart and mind. “Wake up”, I noticed I was being called back to life but even when I tried to wake up I couldn’t, I realized that my life was finally almost over and I just had to let nature take its course. I could feel my heart smiling because I was finally going to be with my mum, father, and my little khairat, I felt as happy as I “slowly gave up my ghost”.
“Am sorry we lost the little boy” the doctor said to the man. The man took me up and went to bury me.
This is the story of the little children of war, the stories of those innocent children killed during the process of forced wars. We as human should understand that violence doesn’t solve any problem but makes things worse. Protesting or using guns to bring down a leader doesn’t help anyone and only makes things worse than it is just like in Libya, Egypt, Syria, CAR, and so many other countries.
Life is a process and each process takes time, hard work, and courage. Let’s try and think about the lives of others and the peace we experience before bringing violence as last resort. In the end; bringing down a leader or rebellion can never be justified by war and destruction of lives and property.