“Teacher told us the sun stands far away somewhere in the space. But I think it’s fallen here. I’ve seen it. I know it’s a big ball of fire. It’s a bit bouncy too. It bounced on my school two days back. I don’t go to the school anymore. Mama said we are going to a new place to live, because the fire ball came bouncing to our home too. There are lot of kids where we live now. The big ones tell us that they bombed our houses. I don’t know who they are. But they are bad children. They should stop playing with the fire ball.”
He was a 8 year old boy. He lived in Damascus. He lived with his mother, father, and a little sister. His father owned a grocery store, where he sold delicious fresh fruits and vegetables. The sun soaked fruits and veggies, would add color to the already bright street. His mother was a house wife, she woke him up everyday with a kiss, made him breakfast, and got him ready for school. He loved to go to the school. He had many friends, and his teachers loved him. He wanted to become an astronaut. He wanted to see the world from God’s eye.
Everyday, he would return home and visit his dad’s shop with his mother and his little sister, and go play with his friends in the nearby park. They would hold hands and pray before supper. They thanked God for being kind, for providing them with just enough wealth, happiness and peace.
Today, he is 11 years old. He lives in a house of box, covered with jute sacks. He lives with his mother, his little sister has turned 5, but looks thinner than a 2 year old. His father, he doesn’t really know where his father is. His mother seem to have no answer to his questions either. For supper, they share the little food which this little boy collects from the handouts.
You would think, that this little boy, and millions like him in Syria would have lost the light. When I read the war stories, I thought so too. Then, I saw a picture, where these kids sat in a big group and it surprised me that amidst these bombings and chaos they could still hold hands and smile. They did not have a park to play, so they made their own park. Their parents are helpless, they can’t send them to school, bring them treats, so they find their own food and find happiness and educate each other.
We all know that the kids in Syria, and several other countries facing the wrath of political and religious wars are in danger. Their innocence is being stolen by a leader, a terrorist, an activist, and everyone else who isn’t a child. But, these kids are more adults than we are. We worry, we fight and we kill each other. These children find joy even amidst a war field!
These are the children of war, and they’ll fight us till the end!