The Moon Faced Child
‘’We’ll support you without mentioning your name!
Land of olives and lemons, we’re with you!’’
Parents do everything they can to ensure that every child grows up and has a good life. Even before a little baby is born, preparations are made for him or her: bedding, clothes, toys, even health insurance so that he or she can be treated easily and comfortably when sick. The best schools are researched and preliminary interviews are made before the child reaches school age. Parents read about child psychology and carefully select and buy the best books for their children. They think about even the smallest details so that their children grow up in the healthiest way possible and are not harmed in the slightest. This is how it should be. If a child is born into the world, they deserve to live the best life and be the happiest child.
But does this always happen? Can children sleep in the most comfortable bed and have the best clothes and toys anywhere in the world? Or can they go to the best schools and play games with their friends? When they are sick, can they go to the hospital and be treated easily? Can their parents stay with each child for life? I don’t know in which country in the world these things can be done, but I know in which country in the world they cannot be done. Let me tell you the story of a moon-faced child in that country.
He went to school and had homework. He studied, did his homework, brushed his teeth. He said good night to her parents and went to sleep. His bed was comfortable and he was very excited about what he would experience at school tomorrow. Until his bed was bombed. He was too young to know what a bomb was, but he was injured by one. He was barely pulled out of the collapsed building and taken to the hospital. Everyone was crying, shouting, running. He was scared. He looked for his mother, but he was not there. Then he looked for his father, but he was not there either. He called out, shouted. Neither her mother nor her father came. He looked for a familiar face in the crowd but she couldn’t see anyone, He was shaking. The doctor came to him, he had to stitch him up and dress him, but he said he had to be strong because he couldn’t numb him. There were so many injured people in the hospital that there were no anesthesia supplies left. He was scared, it hurt so much, He cried.
Time passed and his wound healed, but his parents did not come. The more he realized he would never see them again, the more scared he became. Then a familiar face came to him. Let’s go home, he said, but they couldn’t. He didn’t have a home anymore. They went to school. Not to go to class, but to avoid the bombs. Everyone thought the school would be safe. It was very crowded, there were people shouting and crying. There were other children besides her and they were scared too. He saw mothers crying, but not her own mother. He felt hungry. There was nothing to eat and no one to tell her he was hungry. Other children came to him and played games to heal her wounds and forget her fears. And they did. Then it was evening, he was tired but afraid to sleep. Finally he succumbed to sleep. He fell asleep. He woke up to a great noise and fear. This time they had bombed the school. He thought he was dreaming, but it was real. He was scared and cried because he was going to go through the same thing all over again. He waited for them to pull him out of the rubble and take him to the hospital, but no one came. His fear, pain, hunger and coldness subsided.
The child with a face as bright as the moon is no longer afraid. He is safe with his mother and father.
Note: It doesn’t matter if the child in the story is a boy or a girl, close your eyes and imagine. The important thing is that it is a child.
This article is for those who try to blame innocent people for the pain they have caused, for the massacre they have caused with their own hands, and for those who try to make people believe their false stories by advertising very well the people who died because of their own evil. The real suffering is what these children are going through. The real suffering is what happened in this nameless country. The story I tell in this article is not fiction, it is real. The children with faces as bright as the moon are real and so is their suffering. I could tell you more about their pain, I could put videos of that pain here, I could make you see the mutilated bodies, the burning bodies, but I couldn’t because I can’t bear to see it. There are people somewhere in the world who are going through things that we can’t bear just to see. Recognize the nameless country, its citizens who are not treated as human beings and the suffering they go through and speak out. Raise your voice today so that years from now you will not be sad watching movies and reading books about what these people are going through!
We will stand with the righteous under all circumstances and conditions, in every medium within our reach and power, even without mentioning their names.
İclal Burcu Sivrikaya
