It's 4 pm. Wednesday afternoon. Right now. Doing research for the campaign. Pretty peaceful and serene.
A few minutes ago, a children's song started playing somewhere. Figured it was from a neighbor's and coz a window next to me is unshut. Listened...and halted. Listened while gazing at the picture of the harmless little instrument on the screen. Coincidence, perhaps. I don't know. Another song played...with the repetitive line of "Hallelujah...Hallelujah"...eyes went bleary. It stung...a lot.
"The Child is the Father of the Man", Wordsworth once penned. Childhood is divine. Of irreplaceable worth and value. An age of vulnerability. Innocence. Without blot or blemish. Fragile little creatures they are. Helpless, dependent...harmless. But nevertheless, godly beings. Godlier than man. Godliest of all walks of life.
Alas! a Child has no voice. No voice to guard, defend or to advocate oneself. No voice to stand up in the face of adversity and violence. No voice to express one's own wants and intents. No voice to oppose persisting senseless atrocities. No voice to call right from wrong. No voice to protest being forced in a plight where the motto is 'to kill or be killed'...in a war that is not their own. No voice to object being sent to the front lines of a havoc of bloodbath anticipating oncoming infamously ruthless battle forces, while being utterly unaware- or perhaps painfully aware- of their inescapable fate of hideous Death.
For some, while holding onto nothing but a harmless whistle.
No Child deserves such injustice. No Child deserves to be exposed to such gore of ineffable brutality. No Child deserves to be treated as a literal human shield for fired ammunition. No Child deserves to be regarded as any less than a proper human being, or as though they were but mere convenient physical forms reserved for bullets and abuse.
People need to hear this story. And this was just a small part of it. Hear about the dire dilemma that exists in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Hear about the courageous whistleblowers. Be inspired and respond to the call for help. Do something to help make everything okay again. For the children, men, women and the elderly. Believe that, despite the macabre present state of distress, reform and justice are possible. Peace IS possible. And the troubled nation may finally savour a taste of what they rightfully deserve, but have been stripped off since a long while ago - Freedom.
The music has since ceased. And as this line is written, I am left -if anything- feeling more angry, determined and empowered as ever.
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