All I feel is pain. The pain of my body aching, the pain of being taken away from my family, the pain of being part of an army, the pain of almost being killed, and the pain of knowing I may never go back home. Just yesterday, I was in my village cutting bananas and sugar cane. Today, I am at a Revolutionary camp being trained to fight! I have never even lifted a gun before, and now I’m handed an AK-47. How am I expected to kill a human being? Even thinking about it makes me so mad I find it hard to control my anger. I want to kick Juan, Esteban, Sergeant Diaz, Sergeant Batista, and Whistler till they hurt so much they won’t have the energy to pick up a stupid gun again. It is pure injustice to take kids like me, Lolo, and Ignacio and force us to fight. And after taking us from our village, and forcing us to come here, they treat us like filthy pigs. In fact, even pigs would be more important than us right now because they could be used as food. We have to train all day with hardly any rest, and at the end of it, we get yelled at for our poor performance. There is nothing in the world that will ever make me enjoy this. I don’t care what Juan or Esteban say, or what anyone else here thinks. I will work to become a good soldier, but only so I can stay alive. I will never be one of them even if they keep me here for years. But, as soon as I get the chance, I will escape from here. Even if it costs me my life, I will escape, and that’s a promise I can make.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Day 1
Where Kids Are At War
Somewhere, kids can hang out and have fun
Over here, kids are trained to kill with a gun
Somewhere, kids have never been hurt
Over here, kids bleed to death lying in the dirt
Somewhere, kids are pampered, loved, and cared for
Over here, kids don’t know if they’ll see their family anymore
Somewhere, kids cry because they don’t get their way
Over here, kids are thankful to live one more day
http://werichanel.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/drc_child_soldiers.jpg
Day 5
Yesterday I went on a patrol. It was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that and I will probably never forget that experience. We walked for hours through the jungle until we finally stopped nearby a village. A little while after we stopped, machine guns started firing. When they finally ceased firing, I went with Captain Mendoza, Lolo, and Ignacio to investigate the scene. What we found was so appalling I started crying and I couldn’t help it. There, in the village, were the bodies of 11 dead humans and in the center was a loyalist flag. These weren’t like the dead bodies of people who had died from sicknesses. Each mangled body was soaked in blood from the bullets that had killed them. I was overcome with grief for them. They were villagers just like us; I could have been the little boy that was killed. I ask myself repeatedly, what did they do to deserve this? They were nothing more than poor peasants who worked all day in the blazing sun just to receive the horrible fate of being murdered by loyalists. Again and again I cursed Captain Mendoza for not reaching earlier. We could have saved them I thought constantly. After looking at that site I swore to myself that I would try my best to kill each and every one of the loyalist soldiers. While in the forest, I stumbled upon a little girl, no older than me, and a baby boy that had been born that very day. The girl was covered with blood from the wounds she had gotten, but she stayed strong. She asked for her father, and again the same sickening feeling filled me. She would never get to see her father, or her mother, or the rest of her family. I will never forget that little girl, or the rest of the village.
http://homepages.wmich.edu/~acareywe/images/childsoldiers.jpg
Day 6
After going on the patrol I feel I understand about being a soldier much better. Before, I would never have given a second thought to who was fighting or how the people were fighting. Although I know we are fighting for a good cause, I hate to think of how we finance our cause. The only way we are able to fight is through stealing. We steal food from villagers who are starving, we steal weaponry from banks which we will never pay back, and we steal clothes from the bodies of the dead soldiers around us. We are hardly soldiers, but thieves. And what pains me most is knowing that Captain Mendoza in one of them. It is strange that I feel such a strong connection toward him when he is the man who brought me into this war, but there is something about him which I really respect. When I look back at the past week, I feel almost thankful that I was brought here. I would rather be fighting for a cause like this, than be back at the village cutting bananas. Now that I have actually had this experience, I know that it is important to fight this war. Mendoza is right; our country is in great need of this revolution. Many of our people are illiterate, poor, and live in terrible conditions, while others are rich, and selfish, and don’t bother to help the poor. My mind flashes back to the dead villagers we saw while on patrol. They were helpless against the soldiers and couldn’t do anything. Each and every one of them was thin, and they looked as if they hadn’t eaten in ages. We are fighting for people like them, we are fighting so our fellow citizens can live a better life, and we are fighting because our country is in need of change.
http://connectafrica.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/23-10-child-soldiers.jpg
Day 7
We were sent on a mission today. My group was sent to hold ford at the river until the rest of the men met us there. From there we were going to cross the river and go into battle. A real battle! I find it hard to believe that boys like me, who have just barely learned where the bullet comes out of, are expected to go to battle. Just a couple days ago I learned how not to shoot myself and others around me, but I still don’t feel confident with a gun. I know I am not a good soldier, and I will probably never be one. Lolo and Ignacio and Juan can fire a gun without any problems. They can kill the loyalists and won’t feel guilty about it. They are real soldiers. Once we reached the river, Lolo and I were sent to signal if anything came our way. When we saw a boat, the sergeant told us to start firing, and I did. I did it. I killed an actual human being, maybe more. Last time we were on patrol and I was ordered to kill a man. I never did because I was too scared. I didn’t have the guts to shoot someone. Today, I did it. Lolo and Ignacio and the rest may be proud, but I will never be proud of what I did today. I think it’s dreadful how soldiers kill villagers and take the rest of their lives away from them, and today, I just did the same thing. I killed a group of men who had lives ahead of them, and who knows, they could have been my age. I won’t forget the sickening feeling and blood curdling screams of the men as each got hit by the fatal bullet. I won’t pity killing the loyalists, but I will never be proud of myself either.
http://kassandraproject.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/child-soldiers_7866.jpg
Day 8
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