This is not the life I would have chosen for myself. Had I been given the opportunity, I promise you, this fate of mine have been different. I would work hard and maybe even wrestle up enough money to get a proper education. With an education i could get a real job, sustain a family, and even have a privilege of dying in my sleep of either sickness or old age. But such thought can only lead to heartache and regret. I must especially forget my mother, because remembering her sends a surge of guilt through me.
What i must remember is how to properly hold a rifle, unless i yearn for more scars across my back. The whip lashing is still fresh in my memory. After delivering the sharp blows, the tall man pressed my blood-sodden back up against the wall and whispered gruffly in my ear, "Don't you dare tremble while holding the shotgun again. Such umanliness and cowardice could lead to you missing your target."
With that, he yelled crudely to my senior to mend my wounds. He later handed me a cup of water. I drank it down faster than a bullet that killed my father, and proceeded to close my eyes and rest. Less than an hour later, I was awakened by a long cane striking my feet and I was ordered to work once again.
I find myself overwhelmed by an irrational confidence, a completely illogical assurance that I would be victorious against whoever it was I was now being up against. perhaps there's are the first few traces of a man's delusional attitude, his belief that he can conquer anything. But I am still a child, and too helpless in this cruel conspiracy and too damn weak to face the atrocities of war.
I hear the screams of my brothers, their cries loud and clear, some barely old enough to grasp the situation, let alone fight for survival. I remember holding my brother of seven years old in my arms, and grasping in horror as I realised that his food has been sliced clean off. I waited by his side till he died.
Everyday, i lose a few dozen friends, but I never grow lonely, for their replacements come in like pig for slaughter. How myself, am still alive can only be answer by God. That is, if I am going to heaven though. I've killed 20 men in self-defense, but never in cold blood. I have yet to grow strong enough to kill without conscience.
Some men have achieved the psyche required to kill without mercy. I know such a man, and i don't know how he lives with himself knowing that everyday he sends countless innocent children to their deaths. I have only seen him once, preaching to another man about his strong faith in God and his honourable values. But what honour is there in sacrificing children, some of whom are just beginning to emerge from childhood, for such brutal and horrific demises? He is as an impulsive liar and a great great hypocrite.
I have already accustomed myself to the truth, that despite my hopes and dreams of a happy life I am cursed to die some day soon, if not tomorrow. the truth being that one day I will be killed in a most violent fashion possible and have no one to weep for me, for all my family is dead.
My name is "Baby Face Killer". I am 13 years old. I've seen more people die in my lifetime than i know how to count. I live everyday knowing it could very likely to be my last. My mother, when she was alive, always repeated a Ugandan saying "You Can Burn A House, But Can You Hide The Smoke?" I remember this and for a moment I allow myself to believe that these crime against humanity will someday end, and that no matter how hard this man tries, the smoke will one day gather and stain the sky a deep grey, allowing all to know, all over the world, the living nightmare I face everyday.
THE END.
"In The Fight for Crime Against Humanity, I Pledge Myself In Support To Stop A Man Name Joseph Kony".
