Did you read The Skateboard Kids' Last Ride: As Afghan War Marches on, Children Are Crossing Paths With Suicide Bombers? renamed Young Afghan Lives Lost in the Fog of War? You can find it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/16/world/asia/young-afghan-lives-lost-in-the-fog-of-war.html?ref=world
Rod Nordland tells us of the 55th suicide bombing in Afghanistan this year. "865 civilians have been killed or wounded by suicide or other bombings in the first eight months of this year, 38 percent of them children."
Two of these children were sisters, skateboarders, beggars, good students, good kids. Khorshid, was 15. Her name means "sun." Parwana was 11. Her name means "butterfly."
The newspaper article carried photographs of these beautiful children along with the photos of two slightly older boys who were also killed in Kabul by the suicide bomber who himself appeared to be only 15 years old.
Such a hard life laced with hard-won street smarts. In the photographs, Parwana, Butterfly, smiles for the camera. The other children don't. They are looking straight at us.
A couple of months ago I heard someone say, most likely on NPR, that "to die is an honor." I wonder about that. Maybe death is not all loss and horror, sadness and despair. Maybe it is an honor to die or can be an honor to die. I know that this picture of Parwana is incredible. If I only witness her life after it is over, it is still a witness. What a strong little girl, what a life filled with school, skateboarding, friends, dinner at home at night with her mother and father. I wish I could have seen these sisters skateboard.
Wouldn't it be amazing to experience peace on earth, goodwill toward all?
Rod Nordland tells us of the 55th suicide bombing in Afghanistan this year. "865 civilians have been killed or wounded by suicide or other bombings in the first eight months of this year, 38 percent of them children."
Two of these children were sisters, skateboarders, beggars, good students, good kids. Khorshid, was 15. Her name means "sun." Parwana was 11. Her name means "butterfly."
The newspaper article carried photographs of these beautiful children along with the photos of two slightly older boys who were also killed in Kabul by the suicide bomber who himself appeared to be only 15 years old.
Such a hard life laced with hard-won street smarts. In the photographs, Parwana, Butterfly, smiles for the camera. The other children don't. They are looking straight at us.
A couple of months ago I heard someone say, most likely on NPR, that "to die is an honor." I wonder about that. Maybe death is not all loss and horror, sadness and despair. Maybe it is an honor to die or can be an honor to die. I know that this picture of Parwana is incredible. If I only witness her life after it is over, it is still a witness. What a strong little girl, what a life filled with school, skateboarding, friends, dinner at home at night with her mother and father. I wish I could have seen these sisters skateboard.
Wouldn't it be amazing to experience peace on earth, goodwill toward all?
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