Save the Children



I make myself comfortable on the soft cushiony recliner, a mug of hot coffee in hand as I leave through the day’s newspaper.

‘Drowned baby’s photo captures week of Mediterranean tragedy’ screams the headlines in the Gulf daily. A picture of a baby in the hands of a German rescuer stares back at me. The baby looks serene and peaceful in blissful slumber – only that this baby will remain in eternal slumber.

First, there was three-year-old Aylan Kurdi, a Syrian refugee washed ashore and now another innocent life wasted, among the million other victims of civil war.

There are pictures of people who are forced to escape war, persecution and poverty in their homeland on overcrowded vessels, most of them unfit for sea voyages dragging themselves ashore to a future of bleak hopelessness. There are victims of a plane crash mourning the loss of dear ones. There is a candlelight vigil held to protest another victim of violent rape whose rapist killers still on the loose. The floods in Srilanka and the Europe have not only drowned the homes but also the hopes of many who are rendered homeless. There are pictures of people in Nepal struggling to bring life to normalcy after a devastating earthquake last year while they continue to live on the rubble of structures that they once called home. There is a picture of a man grinning with arrogant pride as he brandishes his rifle, the dreaded black flag in the background.

I read about the misery of the many men, women and children around the world leafing through the pages as I did every day in the comforts of my home. It is then that I wonder, had the everyday news and scenes of fights, misery and struggle become just another news article that gained our momentary pangs of empathy and a few gestures in charity simply because we are spectators and not the actual victims?

Being witness to the despair and despondency of millions across the world, are we doing enough to stand up to the forces that govern the dark side in the name of religion?

It made me wonder if the mother sitting in the midst of nowhere miles away from home, wandering from one country to another, worries more about what she would do for her child’s next meal or the bleak future that stares back at her?

Were they thankful that they escaped their war-torn country alive selling everything they possess to pay a handsome bribe to the smugglers who will ship them off to the unknown?

Do we have to constantly live in the worry that we could be the next victim of a ruthless attack on humanity?

Can we bear another world war, a war of nuclear weapons that can reduce everything to nothing less than radioactive ash?

It is time each one of us stood up to the dark hands of evil and destruction that is greedily gnawing its ghostly shadows bringing humanity on its knees enslaving us into their path of tyranny. Perhaps time has healed the destruction, wounds, suffering and anguish of the great world war putting a mask to man’s darkest sides.

We still have the time, the time to save us, save the future of our children, save the human race.

It Could Have Been Me - Save Syria's Children


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