As I sit with my back against the rough trunk of the palm tree, my blanket tucked tightly around me, the events of the day flicker vibrantly through my mind. Adrenaline is still pumping through my blood after the loyalists attack making my head pound with new found energy. Escape is no longer a prospect in my mind. The camp is just like the stronghold we had been told about in the village stories, ominous, dark, a living hell on earth. I scan my surroundings taking in the swaying palm trees and the rigid tan tents letting my eyes rest on the crates of machinery lined up to my left. These guns are our only companion through this journey. How could I have come in one day from a mere peasant loading bananas, to provide for my family, to a revolutionary solider fighting in the war for freedom? The jungle once my home, a hiding place in games, a source of money in tough times now a place of forced training for something I didn’t want to ever become. I have learnt today that to survive I can’t rely on my fellow soldiers, it is everyman for himself. As I listen to the soft snoring of the men I know they will inflict as much fear and hatred into my heart, as those who crouch ready to attack outside the gates. This war leaves no one untouched. The missing presence of the ache in my stomach makes me uneasy it is the first time that the gripping pain of hunger is absent. The food is a shining light in this darkness but I know that every taco shell and supplement of bean was taken from a village just like mine. A feeling of hatred and intense injustice roars in the pit of my stomach like an ever glowing fire. Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Day 1:
As I sit with my back against the rough trunk of the palm tree, my blanket tucked tightly around me, the events of the day flicker vibrantly through my mind. Adrenaline is still pumping through my blood after the loyalists attack making my head pound with new found energy. Escape is no longer a prospect in my mind. The camp is just like the stronghold we had been told about in the village stories, ominous, dark, a living hell on earth. I scan my surroundings taking in the swaying palm trees and the rigid tan tents letting my eyes rest on the crates of machinery lined up to my left. These guns are our only companion through this journey. How could I have come in one day from a mere peasant loading bananas, to provide for my family, to a revolutionary solider fighting in the war for freedom? The jungle once my home, a hiding place in games, a source of money in tough times now a place of forced training for something I didn’t want to ever become. I have learnt today that to survive I can’t rely on my fellow soldiers, it is everyman for himself. As I listen to the soft snoring of the men I know they will inflict as much fear and hatred into my heart, as those who crouch ready to attack outside the gates. This war leaves no one untouched. The missing presence of the ache in my stomach makes me uneasy it is the first time that the gripping pain of hunger is absent. The food is a shining light in this darkness but I know that every taco shell and supplement of bean was taken from a village just like mine. A feeling of hatred and intense injustice roars in the pit of my stomach like an ever glowing fire.
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