Hello and welcome once again! For this assignment, we were asked to create an emotional scene that we are sharing with someone. We have to do it using dialogue and symbolism, so in this assignment I will be talking about a time I’ve spent with an old lady in Congo after a terrorist group attack. I’ve got this inspiration after reading a story called Hills Like White Elephants (Ernest Hemingway), and I used this as a reference. I encourage you to take a look at this writing and I hope you will enjoy it!
It is October 22, 2009 we are in Congo, Center Africa to help people after Boko Haram, a terrorist group attacked, burned and kidnaped people of three villages. We are here as voluntaries to help them with food, water and take injured people to the hospital. They kidnaped almost a hundred young girls killed some men and burned almost everything around. We are sharing food and water when suddenly I see an old lady sitting alone. I can see how sad she is, crying and completely desperate. She might need my help, let’s see what she needs. I walk to her without knowing what to say first. “Are you hurt?” “They killed my two sons.” She said while crying. I told her that I’m sorry about her sons and asked her if she needed something, maybe some water. “They kidnaped my grands daughters” She said with a trembling voice. “I’m really sorry about that”. That’s the only thing that came in my mind. I tried and gave her some water so she could get calm. Thirty minutes after I gave her water, I wanted to talk to her and see if she needed to be taken to the hospital. “Are you good now?” “How can I ever be good after what happened here, do you know how it feels to see your sons being killed, do you know how it feels when people you depends on are taken away from you, how am I going to live now?” Now I felt so stupid for asking this question. I had no idea of what to say to uplift her. “I’m sorry son, I just don’t feel good. Things were already difficult here and now it’s going to be worst”, she said. “We had trouble to eat in this village and now they burned everything, all our crop, how are we going to live now”. “Why they are doing this?” I said asking myself if that was the good question to ask. “They pretend to be Muslim, they pretend to fight for God, is this what God ask for?” she said looking at me with a so desperate face. “They sexually abuse young girls and now they have my grands daughters, is this what God ask for my son?” she asked me one more time when crying. The next few second that follow those questions, a lot of things came in my mind. I realized how lucky I was and in same time how stupid I was. Asking for needless things all the time, complaining about unnecessary things, spending my time arguing if you should put the milk or the cereal first with my peers and my brothers while having breakfast when some people have trouble to eat, are killed and abused by terrorist pretending to fight for God. Why those people are abused and killed, but not us, what they have done? A lot of questions came in my mind. “Sorry son, I’m making you sad with my problem” she said. “No you are good, that’s why I’m here. I would do anything to help” I told her. “Thank you so much my son” that’s the last thing she ever said. We took her to the hospital and I went home. Three day later she died in the hospital, I’ve never get any new of her grands daughters after that and I realized with this story how life could be hard for some people and how lucky I am.
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AbdoulHi, welcome to my blog. My name is Abdoulaye Ngor Diouf and my goal here is to improve my writing skills and have a better connection with my other self. I hope you will enjoy reading my work. thanks ArchivesCategories |