Day 6:

As I lie on my coarse blanket listening to the sounds of night echo in the trees, I realize that this war is not financed by the big army generals or the government, but by the poor peasants, who have little to give. Daily they struggle to stay alive, the burden on them already immense. Their few resources are stolen from them time and time again, forcing them to work even harder to survive. They pay with an arm and a leg for this war, not only with their few rations but with the lives of their sons and husbands. Those taken as soldiers pay the ultimate price; their life, crushed dreams and the loss of their loved ones. The peasants are taught to hate, steal, fight with barbaric tactics and to kill. Every soldier, dead or alive, is useful to this revolution; they are never free. Loyalists and revolutionaries treat their dead enemy with the same indignity; stripping them of their possessions to sell them for more guns. The loyalists and revolutionary’s alike act with little humanity and are, in reality, low in the pecking order but they both outrank Choya in honour. Choya is nothing but a double timing thief who uses the death and corruption of war to earn money. Rage erupted inside me at the knowledge that he was working for both sides.

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