Thursday, June 07, 2007

We had been in the village for only a few minutes when the rebels attacked again. They didn't want to give up the village easily. We looked at each other sitting around the fire and angrily changed our magazines and went out to get rid of the attackers for good. We fought them throughout the night and the following day. None of us wanted to give up the village to the other, but in the end we killed most of the rebels and captured a few more. The others ran away into the cold and rainy forest. We were so angry with the prisoners that we didn't shoot them but, rather, decided to punish them severely. "It will be a waste of bullets to shoot them," the leiutenant said. So we gave them shovels adn demanded, at gunpoint, that they dig their own graves. We sat under the huts smoking marijuana and watched them dig in the rain. Each time they slowed down, we would shoot around them and they would resume digging faster. When they were done digging, we tied them and stabbed their legs with bayonets. Some of them screamed, and we laughed and kicked them to shut them up. We then rolled each man into his hole and covered him with the wet mud. All of them were frightened, and they tried to get up adn out of the hole as we pushed the dirt back on them, but when they saw the tips of our guns pointed into the hole, they lay back and wathced us with their pale sad eyes. They fought under the soil with all their might. I heard them groan underneath as they fought for air. Gradually, they gave up, and we walked away. "At least they are buried," one of the soliders said, and we laughed. I smiled a bit again as we waked back to the fire to warm ourselves.

a long way gone by ishmael beah.

this is a real account of a boy soldier in sierra leone. i think there's alot of us out there who have failed to recognise the fact that we are beyond fortunate, and have a shitload to be thankful for. think about it.

pau

__________