War Kids (14 page)

HAYTHAM

“My name is Suranga. I’m an area coordinator. Basically, I know how everything works here, so I will help you get settled into your new home.’’

“Do you live here as well?” Waliyah asks as she yawns, still half asleep.

Suranga bends down to Waliyah’s eye level. “No, dear child. I live in a town far away. I have to get up very early and drive through the desert to get here.”

“What time is early?” Waliyah is awake and is full of questions now.
Great… no peace
for me now
. Once my sister starts talking, she doesn’t stop!

Suranga smiles at Waliyah’s interest in her. “I work from six a.m. to six p.m., six days a week. There’s a lot of work to be done here. Normally, the day starts getting busy at eight a.m. I have a meeting with Acted – the leader of water, sanitation, and hygiene. As you can tell by the smell, we have a few problems with the sewage. It’s hard to fix the problem with over 120,000 people here. It’s important to wash your hands. Always wash your hands, so you don’t get sick.”

Suranga looks up at me, and I nod that I understand; it does bloody stink!

“Waliyah, will you please wash your hands after going to the bathroom and before you eat? Keep your hands clean,” Suranga demands.

“I understand,” Waliyah says.

“Haytham, is your father with you, or are you the man of the house?”

“My father was kidnapped from our village. I am the man of the house now. Why?” I ask nervously. I hate it each time I have to say my father was kidnapped. That admission makes it more real.

“You’ll need to make some money to support your family. We’ll give you food stamps, but you cannot live off that alone. Once your mother has the baby and leaves the hospital, she’ll need diapers – those are very expensive. You’ll have to help your mother out, so you’ll need to get a job.”

I have to work… is she crazy? I haven’t even finished school!

“Haytham, I understand it’s a lot to ask from you. There are over 200 babies born here every month. We don’t have the money for these luxuries.”

Luxuries? These are normal things a baby requires!

“Your mother and the baby will get what they need in the hospital,” Suranga continues.

“They will be well looked-after, but when they leave they will be your responsibility,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

“Suranga, don’t worry. I got us this far, and I can continue to look after us,” I assure her. “We are strong, just like our father. One day we will be reunited.” I believe these words I am speaking, and I know I can do it! I just wish Zak and Jada were here with me. I hope they are okay.

Waliyah and I rise to our feet. It’s time for us to be strong and proud.

“Suranga, where are we going to be living?” I ask. She points over to rows upon rows of tents. In the distance, it looks like there are square buildings… they almost look like trailers.

“You’ll be living in a tent. Sorry, but it is far away from the hospital. All the closer ones are already taken.”

We’re really going to be living in a tent! I want to be back at home in my bedroom with my TV and hot water. Not living like a nomad.

“Suranga, if we are living in that, where is our bathroom?” Waliyah asks.

“You’ll share a bathroom with the other families.”

Waliyah turns her nose up at that. I don’t blame her! No wonder this place smells.

“Where do we get water from?” I ask nervously. I really don’t like the idea of this. I like the indoors.

We never even went camping before the war – we’d always stay in nice hotels with pools.

“There’s no running water in the tent. You will need to get water from the pump or water tank and take it back with you. There is usually a line for the water. I’ll show you.”

With that, Suranga begins walking us to our new home.
Jesus,
I have to use the pump to get water. This is just crazy!

The ground is covered in dust… not dirt. Odd. There is nothing green, nothing growing or alive. I can already feel the dust under my toes and entering my lungs. Waliyah lets out a little cough. It must be bothering her as well.

“You get used to the dust and the smell,” Suranga says. I hate to admit that she’s right… I’m already noticing the stench fading; I don’t like that. I don’t want to get used to this place. I want to get out of here and go back home.

We walk past rows of white, dusty tents. Children around Waliyah's age are playing outside, with watchful mothers standing nearby.

Waliyah and I stop. One of the tents is open. A man is sitting in a chair with a towel around his neck. Another man is standing next to him, cutting his hair. Puzzled, Waliyah and I look at each other.

“People are resourceful. There are butchers who sell slabs of meat, and there are vegetable shops, clothes stores, and even a pet shop.”

“We saw a wedding dress store on the way in,” Waliyah says proudly. We continue walking.

“Haytham, is there anything you like to do?”

“Haytham likes taking photos,” Waliyah announces.

Looking around the camp, I realize I’m dying to get a few good shots.

“You take pictures? Do you have any I can see?” Suranga asks.

I pull out my camera. “These are some from our journey here.”

Suranga looks at the photos. “Haytham, you are very talented. You need to be careful with that camera. Keep it hidden and safe.” She passes it back to me, and I tuck it inside my jacket. Why do I have to hide it? I don’t like the sound of that.

“I have an idea for you on how to make money. There are around ten weddings each week. You could take a photo of the couple. And there are so many new babies... you could take baby pictures.”

I do like that idea.

“I’ll check and see if we can print them in the office,” Suranga says.

“I'm not promising anything, but I think it could work.”

I give her a smile. “Thank you.”

“Here, this will be your home.” She points to a tent in front of her.

I unzip the front. This is where we live now. Waliyah and I open the tent and find only dust on the floor.

Our new home is an empty shell of lost hope.

JADA

We’ve been at the church for one night now. I’m surprised with how well-organized everything is, considering it's being run by children.

They’ve moved the wooden pews around to create rooms and bedroom areas that are lined with sleeping bags and blankets. There’s a meeting area next to one of the bedrooms, then a sitting/ dining area where the pews face each other, creating a table in the middle.

Everyone has jobs. It doesn’t matter how old you are; you have to do something.

When we got to the church, Zak and I just wanted to ask loads of questions, but we were told we’d have a meeting with the Keeper. It seemed like he was the leader of the watchers.

Zak was quiet on the walk to the church. I wanted to question him about what he was going to say in the restaurant, but someone was always with us. Tilly was happy, skipping along, and joyful at the thought of seeing her father again.

I wondered what was wrong with Zak, and why he was being so quiet. Was it because he was no longer the leader? I’d think he’d just be happy at the chance to see our fathers again.
Stupid boys.

When we got to the church, we were separated. But I guess it may have had something to do with religion. Mother had taught us about different religions when we were younger, then once the war broke out, she tried to explain more about it. But I didn’t understand then, and I still don’t now.

Why would this happen? I don’t think anyone’s God would want us to fight over our beliefs.

This war is a very confusing one. The government is fighting against the rebels, the rebels are fighting the government, and then another group of rebels is having a holy war. I asked my mother one day which side we were on. Her reply was, “None, and do not trust any side. Just trust your heart.”

I still do not know who took my father. After the men were kidnapped from the village, people were saying it was the rebels taking the strongest men and forcing them to join in the war against the government.

I do not know who killed my mother and brother. I think it was the government, because a plane had to have been used to drop the chemical bombs. I don’t think that’s something the rebels would have done, but I just don’t know.

Like Mother said… I cannot trust any side.

Zak’s job is to be a lookout man, along with the other older boys in 3F. They are called ‘watchers’. His station is going to be in the building next to the church, on the top floor so he has a good vantage point.

The girls and I go to work in the kitchen in the back of the church. It’s kind of like its own world; it doesn’t have any bomb marks like the main area of the building, and it remains untouched by the war.

Once we’ve been given our jobs, Zak quickly pulls me aside.

“Jada, I want you to look after Tilly,” he barks at me.

“Of course I’ll watch over her. What’s your problem… why are you in a mood?” I snap back at him.

“Sorry, it’s not you, it’s them… I don’t trust them.”

I look at him, confused. I thought they were here to help us. Why is he suspicious?

“Time to meet the Keeper,” one of the boys informs us. I’m glad our conversation is interrupted. I don’t want to argue with Zak right now.

We follow the boys. There’s something a bit different about all the guys here… they’re all around the same age, about eighteen or so, and all look very similar – tall and muscular with short brown hair. Their haircuts even look the same.

It’s weird to see this many teens, but on the walk to see the Keeper, they tell us how their school was attacked, and they escaped together. Their villages were burned down, so they all wanted to find their kidnapped fathers.

They have the same story as Zak; he’d been able to get away, so if he could do it, others could as well. It makes sense.

We follow the boys to the back of the room. “The young kids can stay here,” a boy tells us. “You can fill them in once we’re done. The room’s too small for everyone. Don’t worry, they can meet the other children, and there’ll always be someone watching over them.”

I turn around to the group of kids behind us. They do look tired, like they just need to sit down. The church is full of other little children around their age. Some sit at the eating area, others are just lounging around, relaxing. I look over at Zak and shrug.

“Okay, they can stay here. But Tilly comes with us,” Zak says.

“Just the little one,” the boy agrees, pointing to Tilly.

Tilly walks over to Zak and holds his hand. We walk into the room, and there is an older boy – the Keeper. He looks about seventeen, and is sitting at a large table with maps covered with pins. There is a black chalkboard behind him, similar to what we used to have at Sunday school. It has drawings on it… like a battle plan from a war movie.

The Keeper raises his head up. “What is she doing here?” he asks, pointing to Tilly.

I get the first glimpse of his eyes; they look evil, and the blackness under them makes his eyes look like they are rotting away.
God, what has he seen?

I notice the other boys have glazed looks, as if they’re numb to everything. The shock, the horror… after seeing so many bodies, you become used to it.

“She is with me. If you have a problem, we can leave right now!” Zak yells.

The Keeper widens his eyes in surprise, but quickly recovers. “Apologies. What is your name?”

“Zak.”

“Zak… This is no place for a child. Let me rephrase that, a young child.”

Maybe he’s right. Hasn’t Tilly been through enough?

“What is your name?” Zak asks the Keeper.

“Junayd,” he replies sternly.

“Junayd, thank you for speaking with us. My sister is the only member of my family I have left until I locate my father. She has seen many murdered people on her journey here. Until the war is over, Tilly is no longer a child… she is an equal, as are all the people in our group,” Zak says firmly.

“Fine,” says the Keeper. He has an expression on his face that shows he is already bored of our presence in the room and is not interested in what Zak is saying.

“We’ve located where our fathers are being held,” says the Keeper. “They’re in the next town over. The soldiers are keeping them in an old prison, which is also being used as a military base. We have look-outs watching and waiting, but currently there are too many soldiers. One of the look-outs overheard the soldiers talking, and a lot of them will be leaving soon to head up north.”

The Keeper pauses and looks down at his maps.

“We are waiting for them to leave, and then we’re going in,” he continues. “We’ve been collecting information on the prison for the last few days, and gathering weapons from the villages. Are you in?”

I look at Zak, waiting for his reply.

When Zak remains silent, I yell out, “I’m in!”

“Very good. And the rest of you?” he asks, looking at Zak.

“I am also in,” he replies with a low voice. I don’t understand what’s wrong with him. The Keeper wants to help us rescue our fathers… Zak should be excited!

“That is all. Please do the jobs that were assigned to you.”

I can tell this is his way of asking us to leave. “Watchers, can you stay behind?” the Keeper adds.

We exit, and just as Zak closes the door, we hear shouting coming from the room. Before I can say anything, Mansur puts his arms around my shoulders. “Your father would be very proud of you, Jada,” he says.

I smile up at him, excited that I’ll get to see my father again.

Zak looks furious and marches off, dragging Tilly with him.