Stripped of Innocence

      I huddled over Maalik on the red, African dirt staring directly down the barrel of a gun held by my other son, Badru. His nine year old arms could barely hold it up when he was commanded by the LRA to shoot me and his baby brother.  Badru shook violently at the decision in front of him being pressured by the rebel that was screaming in his ear to kill us or he would kill us, Badru included.  I felt helpless for my little boy.  A nine year old should not have to make the decision between life or death knowing that if he wanted to live he would have to kill his family.  All I could do is lay there with Maalik in my arms and cry until my fate arrived.  

     Most of our village had already been destroyed.  The screams of my neighbors slowly died down to nothing.  By the blazes of our homes I see mothers, fathers and infants scattered on the ground.  The young boys had been gathered by the rebels and handed guns before entering the jeep.  Young girls were gathered to be used as sex slaves.  My boy was next to join the group.

    Through my clouded eyes I saw a rebel jab my little boy in the back with the butt of his gun egging him on.  I knew it was gonna happen any second so I clutched Maalik in my arms and told him I loved him.  I stroked the top of his warm head and hummed his favorite lullaby for the remainder of our time together.

In one second I heard the bang of the gun and Badru screaming at the top of his lungs. "I love you," he choked.  My shoulder writhed in pain but my heart did more. I felt faint and my vision blurred but I saw a rebel drag Badru to the jeep and toss him in with the other children.  The jeep pulled out with new members to their army.  Knowing that my little Badru would be forced to kill and rape caused me more pain than the marble sized hole in my shoulder that was gushing with blood.

      The village felt still and yet I could still hear the screams of mothers losing their children and boys being tortured to death by their brother.  The flames from our homes continued to light the village.  A few children came out from hiding to look for their parents only to find them dead.  There was one familiar cry that I did not hear.  Maalik lay under me shaking in stunned silence.  He remained physically unscathed but his heart would torment him forever.  




The above scene happens far too often in Africa.  Children are forced from soccer balls and crayons to guns and bombs.  The first step is awareness.  I encourage you to continue to pray.  Prayer is powerful and God really hears us.  He cares about the aches of our heart.

Below will tell you all about the LRA.
http://www.warchild.org.uk/issues/the-lords-resistance-army?_kk=lra&_kt=a35dea99-cfb1-4fd9-8cb8-847c2ecd7db8&gclid=COursImqkLUCFcef4AodOVoArw

Below is a 55 minute video where former child soldiers speak up about their experiences.  Don't let the length turn you away.  These children can tell their story much better than I can.  Hear them.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgHQS9aUFTw&wide=1