I haven’t told them the full story of my life because there is a war.
You saw people running around with guns and shooting each other?
I was twelve.
You should tell us about it sometime.
First Blood. Total confusion. The first time I was touched by war.
You should tell us about it sometime.
A woman carried her baby on her back, her child had been shot dead.
You should tell us about it sometime.
Bullets could be seen sticking out in the baby’s body.
I was twelve.
There were no indications that our childhood was threatened, much less that we would be robbed of it.
We knew only how to survive.
I was twelve.
I killed a man. I had fulfilled one of life’s greatest achievements.
You should tell us about it sometime.
My body had gotten numb. I was covered with blood.
I grabbed the man’s head and slit his throat.
You will get used to it.
I was twelve.
Eyes wide open and still; his insides spilling onto the the ground.
Too much blood has been spilled.
I wasn’t sure when it was going to end. I hadn’t parted with my gun since the day I became a child soldier.
We had been fighting for over two years. I was fifteen.
You should tell us about it sometime.
Yes, sometime.