Posts
Note from Michael:
June 8, 2008
I went outside the wire again yesterday to conduct an investigation. It is amazing how much the town has changed in the short time since I was there last. The first thing I noticed is that there were people, lots of people. We had been receiving reports that the townspeople felt safe enough (courtesy of the U.S. Marine Corps) to return to their homes. I was able to observe this phenomenon in person. What really struck me was how many children there were. I looked out of my small, bullet-proof window and saw scores of children running alongside our convoy, waving and blowing kisses at us. I looked at their faces, into their eyes. I saw genuine innocence. Most of these kids were probably between the ages of 5 and 7. Their entire lives, everything they have ever known about this world, has been violence, blood, fear, and death. I saw my own children in them. I imagined Mikey running along the side of the road, waving at a convoy of massive, almost cartoonish vehicles with armor-plated sides, huge off-road tires, spitting and snarling with heavy machine guns and automatic grenade launchers. The stark contrast between the life that my children know and the life that those kids know weighed heavily on me. My kids are too young to understand it, but they have been blessed almost beyond comprehension. They have never felt what it is like to go without. They wear clean, colorful clothes. They have all the latest toys and gadgets. The majority of their time is spent having fun and being entertained. The kids I saw out of my window wore sandals that looked like they could have belonged to their fathers and grandfathers, and their lives consist of herding and raising goats. Their mode of transportation is frequently their filthy, calloused feet. I saw a few riding on the back of a donkey…perhaps a middle class family. And a fortunate few were lucky enough to be driven around on small, 1980s era motorcycles. Of course, there were adults too. They seemed to have a look of hesitance about them. I don’t blame them. Their life experience in this country has taught them that foreigners, especially foreign militaries, cannot be trusted. But the thing that struck me about the kids was that they all seemed to have a genuinely happy countenance. They, as with most children, have the benefit of youth, and with youth comes optimism. I hope that they don’t lose that optimism. Their country is going to need it.
June 8, 2008
I went outside the wire again yesterday to conduct an investigation. It is amazing how much the town has changed in the short time since I was there last. The first thing I noticed is that there were people, lots of people. We had been receiving reports that the townspeople felt safe enough (courtesy of the U.S. Marine Corps) to return to their homes. I was able to observe this phenomenon in person. What really struck me was how many children there were. I looked out of my small, bullet-proof window and saw scores of children running alongside our convoy, waving and blowing kisses at us. I looked at their faces, into their eyes. I saw genuine innocence. Most of these kids were probably between the ages of 5 and 7. Their entire lives, everything they have ever known about this world, has been violence, blood, fear, and death. I saw my own children in them. I imagined Mikey running along the side of the road, waving at a convoy of massive, almost cartoonish vehicles with armor-plated sides, huge off-road tires, spitting and snarling with heavy machine guns and automatic grenade launchers. The stark contrast between the life that my children know and the life that those kids know weighed heavily on me. My kids are too young to understand it, but they have been blessed almost beyond comprehension. They have never felt what it is like to go without. They wear clean, colorful clothes. They have all the latest toys and gadgets. The majority of their time is spent having fun and being entertained. The kids I saw out of my window wore sandals that looked like they could have belonged to their fathers and grandfathers, and their lives consist of herding and raising goats. Their mode of transportation is frequently their filthy, calloused feet. I saw a few riding on the back of a donkey…perhaps a middle class family. And a fortunate few were lucky enough to be driven around on small, 1980s era motorcycles. Of course, there were adults too. They seemed to have a look of hesitance about them. I don’t blame them. Their life experience in this country has taught them that foreigners, especially foreign militaries, cannot be trusted. But the thing that struck me about the kids was that they all seemed to have a genuinely happy countenance. They, as with most children, have the benefit of youth, and with youth comes optimism. I hope that they don’t lose that optimism. Their country is going to need it.
0 comments:
Post a Comment