Them

He was a hero.

  A mantra, they used during the tough times, when there was no water, no bread, nothing to eat.

  Almost every day, the older ones went without food while the young ones could eat.

Though it was a modern time, around the year 2005, although their country had been liberated, they were still in poverty- as were most of their people.

  The had a little house to live in, which could barley hold the fifteen people in the cramped place, so town and so dark, they could not tell if it was night or day.

Then the bombs came.

Day after day, night after night, bombs rained down on their country, after a single person who caused so much devastation. Thought they did not say it, they supported the bombing of their own country, which was half a world away from the bombers own country.

  Night after night they kept saying their mantra, night after night houses fell down in a crumpled heap. The days after the relentless nights of bombings were spent scavenging for food in the devastated neighbourhood. For the first couple of days they found food, but then it run out as soon as others caught on.

  Only the men could go out, women were barred from virtually everywhere, which made it useless to even go out even in the presence of the men.

  The one day, about a month or saw from when the bombing began, the oldest child saw something, which changed their simple minds.

  He was peering into one of the few houses, which had a television, when he heard what his cousin did. He rushed back home and told his family what he saw, to the best of his speaking ability.

  After he had told them, his aunty collapsed in tears to the dusty floor of their house, and no one could console her.

  The mantra was no more, instead they were repeating to themselves “He’s the devil.” A devil, they said, who slaughtered people like slaughtering elephants for their tusks. He was the devil amongst them, a devil who loitered around terrible, terrible people.

  Late one night, the middle daughter, who was 15, was talking to her older brother.

“Brother, why did he do it?” She asked in her native tongue.

“No one can answer that. All he wanted was al-jihad al-asghar- Holy War”

“But why couldn’t he leave them life in peace? Why did he have to join up with Usama?”  She spat the name out with contempt.

“Again, I can not answer that. All I do know is that all they wanted was war between us and them, but in the end they ended up liberating our country.”

It was only three weeks ago; that their country’s “government” was defeated- they fled in terror of the people liberating the country in which they openly banned so many people from seeing.

“I hate them” Again said with contempt and hate.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t go out, not even to see the beautiful birds, not once could I help the family scavenging for food, because they are….” She tried thinking of a word, which could describe how they kept the women and girls in shackles in their own home.

“What are they?” Her brother asked.

“Sexist” A word, which described the government, a word that was kept in her head, but never, mentioned out loud.

“I am glad that they have gone and ashamed that I’m related to such a devil.”

“We all are ashamed; there is no waiving the fact amongst us. Let us hope that we are better off then we once were. The best thing we can do is hope; let us never forget that”

“Yes, brother” The sister replied. “Hope is the best thing we can have now and I can honestly say that for the first time, I can see light at the end of the tunnel.”

“I’m glad that you do, my sister” The brother said just before they fell asleep, dreaming of what tomorrow could bring them.