It's the
This is a school history blog
All entries are representative of historical events from the point of view of an 8 year old boy
Writers of this blog are:
1) Sherman Lim
2) How Kwang Ming
3) Kwang Yi Jing
4) Kenji Ong
I've got a piece of paper; But it's Empty
Entry 1
It has been months since I last saw Daddy. Daddy left Mummy and I 3 months back. He said that he needed to do something important for the country. Daddy promised that he would be back in a few months’ time. But it has been 3 months since he left and we have not received news from him. I really miss Daddy.
I have heard Mummy talking to my neighbors. They were all crying when they were speaking to each other. I heard Daddy’s name vaguely. I wonder what is going on. Mummy would not tell me where Daddy was whenever I asked her. I am worried that I would never be able to see Daddy again.
Entry 2
Ever since Daddy left, I have stopped schooling. Mummy said that it was too dangerous to go to school. She heard of stories of the enemies kidnapping children from schools and mistreated them. But she would not tell me who the enemies were.
I really love go to school. I have made many new friends there, and like me, their Daddies have also left them. It is really boring to not be able to go to school. I hate staying at home.
Entry 3
My neighbor, Yasser, said that his Daddy has gone to participate in the war. I finally know what is going on. Daddy has gone to the war as well and he might not be coming back anymore. I really hope nothing will happen to him.
I hate the war, I do not understand why there is the war, but I seriously hope the war would stop so that Daddy can come back to Mummy and I. The war is horrible. It is tearing so many families apart, making everybody sad.
Entry 4
My husband has left for the war and it has been 3 months since we last heard from him. Now I am left with my 4 children and I am clueless as to what is going on. I do not know what to tell the kids.
Every day we live in fear of dying. The constant air raids are terrifying. I no longer have the strength to carry on with life. But for my children I must continue with life. They are the last source of will I can tap on to continue with life.
For my kids, I must continue to be strong and believe that my husband, their father, will come home.
Poem of the Rohingya
Rejection is our middle name
Our journey, of
Loss in the middle of the ocean.
We drift, like the balsa rafts—
Hope fading, eyes drifting, spirits falling
Like the rain
d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
our tears fall, as we ponder
our doom, yet our kin
their decisions, our sin
for we drift like leaves on the trees come fall
to wither, to perish, the frail and the small
for our journey is never ending
filled with sorrow are the phrases we sing
and that is how our world ends—
rejects abuse
free us.
These sheets; We could lie in this bed; But it's Empty
Trying too hard; Maybe we're torn apart
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May 2009
designer DancingSheep
Is beating our hearts; We're Empty
now playing
empty, click five