top of page
Search

My Story: Children of War

Written By: Farkhunda

This story that I, Farkhunda, am writing is based on my personal experience in eastern Afghanistan, Jalalabad. It is a place where people are used to attacks and explosions. This story in particular is written about an attack that occurred when I was a 7th grader. It took place in police headquarters, which were very close to Bibi Zainab High School, the school I was attending.


Fig 1: Bronstein, Paula. Students studying in a tent in Kabul, Afghanistan. Human rights watch. 2017


It was a sunny, bright, and delightful morning, there were voices of friends chatting, the birds chirping and the leaves rustling. All of a sudden a heavy sound found its way through my ears. When the sound traveled to my ears, I was shocked, overbalanced, and felt my body become heavy. I looked around and nothing was in its natural state; one would think that the order of nature had been corrupted. By this time, everything was in a rush. Friends were not chatting anymore, nor the birds chirping, neither the leaves rustling. There were shouts, shrieks and noises.


When I looked at the sky, it was a dark shadow that was not made up of clouds but rather smoke, bloodcurdling smoke. This dark shade started to get closer and closer to me. As I was looking at it, my heart started to beat rapidly and my brain did not allow me to think of anything, but commanded me to “run, run as fast as you can”. I took a step, left my books, pens, notebooks, and most importantly my friends.


I was running to the playground with all the strength I had in my body, but by this time I was hearing a series of short bursts. They were bullets. It felt as though they were firing underneath my feet and that the bullets would now hit my feet and stop me from running. I quickened my steps but fear occupied all of my senses. Then I heard my mother’s soothing voice in my head saying, “We are children of war, so don’t be afraid”. These words from my mother motivated me to move in order to save my life for the sake of my family and myself. As I was running, I found myself under the trees hoping the loud piercing noise of shots would stop. But still, the sounds of bullets continued and I was more scared than ever. I ran to find my sisters, but saw my cousin in the 12th graders’ hallway. She was smiling and chatting with her friend surprisingly. She asked me “Are you alright?” I couldn’t express my fear to her, as I couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. I didn’t feel safe with her, couldn’t hug her and couldn’t cry.


Since I did not feel safe being with her, I went to search for my sisters. Once I found them, I felt different. My tears were flowing out my eyes while deep down I was feeling a sense of happiness and relief. I hugged them, expressed my fear, and cried with them. It was right there where I found my safe place.


Edited By: Gisele & Liann

Bibliography:


Bronstein, Paula. Students studying in a tent in Kabul, Afghanistan. Human Rights Watch. 2017


Nazanin Faizan Photo of a little girl sitting beside the tank. Instagram, 29. Feb. 2020


Comments

bottom of page