Painful Paths
War is a game for boys in young men of which we are all forced to play and in which we all inevitably lose.
The rain pours outside, turning village paths into swollen rivers as the sound of rain drops drowned out any other sounds. Dry, in our dimly lit hut, I sit with a variety of boys and men playing dominos in an attempt to pass the day away. For now we are all able to rest, my supplies are packed away in the truck and their AK-47s are piled in the corner. Sitting with me in the hut are the SLA soldiers who are assigned to protect the town of Saboon. Laughing and joking we could be anywhere else in world, except we are not any where else, we are in Darfur, in Fur country, in a rebel stronghold. Each man has decorated his body with numerous hijabs to protect him from the enemies’ bullets. Instead of talking about the latest football match they discuss GOS troop movements and relay their fears to me that they believe the government is planning something big in the region. And hundreds of miles away rebel leaders and government officials direct operations and make power moves, while here on the ground boys die in some vain attempt to usher in manhood. What is manhood if it only offers death? It seems that in the end humanity if only made to suffer in this absurd brotherhood of arms. Leaving me only to ask what type of injustice must be suffered to desire peace at the point of a gun?
The rain pours outside, turning village paths into swollen rivers as the sound of rain drops drowned out any other sounds. Dry, in our dimly lit hut, I sit with a variety of boys and men playing dominos in an attempt to pass the day away. For now we are all able to rest, my supplies are packed away in the truck and their AK-47s are piled in the corner. Sitting with me in the hut are the SLA soldiers who are assigned to protect the town of Saboon. Laughing and joking we could be anywhere else in world, except we are not any where else, we are in Darfur, in Fur country, in a rebel stronghold. Each man has decorated his body with numerous hijabs to protect him from the enemies’ bullets. Instead of talking about the latest football match they discuss GOS troop movements and relay their fears to me that they believe the government is planning something big in the region. And hundreds of miles away rebel leaders and government officials direct operations and make power moves, while here on the ground boys die in some vain attempt to usher in manhood. What is manhood if it only offers death? It seems that in the end humanity if only made to suffer in this absurd brotherhood of arms. Leaving me only to ask what type of injustice must be suffered to desire peace at the point of a gun?
posted by Scott at 4:48 AM
4 Comments:
As always...you make us think...thanks.
You are going to compile this someday into a book..it might even be necessary for it to have shark on the front ;)
Sarah H
sharks do always make a good cover!
scott
wow Scott. Thanks for giving us a lens into your life. For a brief moment, i felt like i was there.
linds
If sharks make such a good cover...maybe you could dress up as a shark and put that on the front?
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