The blogger world has too a b side. Sometimes I found it, by chance, in the random of the search by the next blog button. I mean a lot of blogs full of freak information, photos and even porno videos. There are bloggers who write about his or her cats, his neighbours, even about the past lifes. Once, I found a blog on the tires, yeah, the tires, the guy wrote about a very long list of tires and theirs advantages and handicaps, according to the kind of the ground, the car, and so on. Other: a woman in USA who lived a very hard life and now tries to help others to be better. I forget the address of this blogs, I’m sorry. But believe me; actually these blogs are in the web...
But in the b side of the blogs have a painful side.
I’m talking about the blogs of the survivors of the wars, the blogger who write from the camps of refugees... I’m talking about the children without parents, without arms, without legs, without smiles, the children without childhood. I found a blog called free Western Sahara, and I read and saw about the Saharawi People. This was very painful to me. The peoples under the injustice always hurt my sense of the world.
I remember, when I was a child and watched TV, I always asked to my mom why they’re in war? My mom always had very big difficult to explain it to me. Someday, she told me: I don’t know the reasons for the war; the war is not a reasonable thing.
Now, I say that words to my son. My son, watching TV, ask me the same questions to me: Why? Why the children are in the war, suffering? Why the people kill people? I don’t have answer, yet. To me, the war is a topic so complicated. I’m smart (all my teachers said that, at least), but, the war, no, I can’t understand it.
I know there are reasons, political, religious, ethnic, and overall, economic reasons. But, when you see the mutiled body of a child, the reasons have no power, there are no reasons for the reason (excuse my English).
Who have the power to take a whole people out their land? Who have the power to kill, in the name of whatever, children? Who?
García Márquez, in his very famous novel Cien años de soledad (One-hundred Years of Loneliness), says, by one of his characters, “the only thing that you feel in the war is so simple, it’s called fear” (sorry, Gabo, for the bad translation). I agree with this character, despite I’m so lucky, and never suffered the war[i]when I was a child. I can’t to stand the idea of the children in the wars. The children are protected by the Human’s Rights and moreover, the Children’s Rights, these are universal rights, are not?
Where is somebody to protect them? They are children; they have the right to grow up in peace, with their parents and in their culture...
I don’t know the Saharawi, I never hold the hand of Agaila Abba Hemeida (the sweet young woman who put her post in that blog), and I never travel out my country. I don’t know about the Saharawi’s fight, I don’t know anything about the reality of to live in a camp of refugees, I don’t, even; know why these people don’t live in peace, in their land.
I have a very beautiful dream. I want that, when my child will be a father, his child, watching TV, never ask “Why the war?”...I hope, the child of my child will never see the war, never, never again. I have the hope that the war stops, once and forever.
I hope, never again a people without land, I hope, never again a child in a war.
Well, now by now, all my solidarity to Agaila and her sisters and brothers. She uses the bloggers resources for the very deep need of tell to the world about her fight and situation. She tells us some news that I never want to know. But, it’s a fact, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
To know more about the Saharawi go to www.freewesternsahara.blogspot.com
But in the b side of the blogs have a painful side.
I’m talking about the blogs of the survivors of the wars, the blogger who write from the camps of refugees... I’m talking about the children without parents, without arms, without legs, without smiles, the children without childhood. I found a blog called free Western Sahara, and I read and saw about the Saharawi People. This was very painful to me. The peoples under the injustice always hurt my sense of the world.
I remember, when I was a child and watched TV, I always asked to my mom why they’re in war? My mom always had very big difficult to explain it to me. Someday, she told me: I don’t know the reasons for the war; the war is not a reasonable thing.
Now, I say that words to my son. My son, watching TV, ask me the same questions to me: Why? Why the children are in the war, suffering? Why the people kill people? I don’t have answer, yet. To me, the war is a topic so complicated. I’m smart (all my teachers said that, at least), but, the war, no, I can’t understand it.
I know there are reasons, political, religious, ethnic, and overall, economic reasons. But, when you see the mutiled body of a child, the reasons have no power, there are no reasons for the reason (excuse my English).
Who have the power to take a whole people out their land? Who have the power to kill, in the name of whatever, children? Who?
García Márquez, in his very famous novel Cien años de soledad (One-hundred Years of Loneliness), says, by one of his characters, “the only thing that you feel in the war is so simple, it’s called fear” (sorry, Gabo, for the bad translation). I agree with this character, despite I’m so lucky, and never suffered the war[i]when I was a child. I can’t to stand the idea of the children in the wars. The children are protected by the Human’s Rights and moreover, the Children’s Rights, these are universal rights, are not?
Where is somebody to protect them? They are children; they have the right to grow up in peace, with their parents and in their culture...
I don’t know the Saharawi, I never hold the hand of Agaila Abba Hemeida (the sweet young woman who put her post in that blog), and I never travel out my country. I don’t know about the Saharawi’s fight, I don’t know anything about the reality of to live in a camp of refugees, I don’t, even; know why these people don’t live in peace, in their land.
I have a very beautiful dream. I want that, when my child will be a father, his child, watching TV, never ask “Why the war?”...I hope, the child of my child will never see the war, never, never again. I have the hope that the war stops, once and forever.
I hope, never again a people without land, I hope, never again a child in a war.
Well, now by now, all my solidarity to Agaila and her sisters and brothers. She uses the bloggers resources for the very deep need of tell to the world about her fight and situation. She tells us some news that I never want to know. But, it’s a fact, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.
To know more about the Saharawi go to www.freewesternsahara.blogspot.com
y si lo quieres leer este post en castellano, espera unos días a que me traduzca a mí misma.
[i] I grew up in the Pinochet’s time. For me, there wasn’t anything wrong. When I was a young woman, I knew about the political prisoners, the missing prisoners and so on. But, my childhood was free of the fear.
[i] I grew up in the Pinochet’s time. For me, there wasn’t anything wrong. When I was a young woman, I knew about the political prisoners, the missing prisoners and so on. But, my childhood was free of the fear.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario