My mom persuaded me to come home for the weekend after my classes
ended last Thursday. Her tardiness forced me to wait outside for ten minutes in
the blazing sun; by the time she drove up to my residential hall, I looked like
a jalapeno that decided to swim a mile in the nearest pool. My sister waved at me while
I jumped into the back seat, momentarily closing my eyes to listen to the hum of the air conditioner that quickly cooled my red skin. Excited, she asked me about life at Georgia Tech.
As
requested, I proceeded to remember the day’s events. I told her that the eggs
at breakfast tasted like plastic and how a mini Mount Everest stood between my classes and an annoyed version of myself after a pitiful breakfast. I
complained how it took fifteen minutes to retrieve lunch, thus robbing me of thirty
minutes of studying during my break. Thirty minutes! Then, I go
to dinner, exhausted from reading eighty pages of Egyptian that my social
movement teacher called light reading about social movements, to discover that US lost to Belgium during the quarterfinals of the World Cup, driving me to depression. Afterwards, my
friends decided to go to an Italian dinner; I wanted to tag along, but couldn't since
I was going home that evening.
“Wow,”
My sister replied. “You became a critic during college.”
She
turned around as I stared into the window, aimlessly watching the passing
buildings turned into trees as we approached the suburbs. At the time, I shrugged
it off, but I soon realized that I failed to mention the most important aspects
that shaped that day: I was attending one
of the best universities in the nation and was currently receiving an education
that would secure my dream occupation. Even though the
dining halls did not serve five star cuisines, I still acquired three meals a day
and walked to my dorm knowing that I do not have to worry about scavenging for
food the next morning. I was heading to a place that I called home, a place that provided me with a roof over my head, running water, electricity, and safety throughout the night.
Most
children in this world do not possess such privileges. In fact, instead of spending
the day sitting through lectures, kids in poverty search for food, shelter, or escape from
rebellion armies that wish to enslave them for their own mischievous purpose,
attacking hospitals and schools regularly to kidnap these innocent lives. An
UN article reports that armed groups in fourteen countries, such as South
Sudan, Syria, and the Central African Republic, train children for their civil wars, violating human right laws
that dictate that a person must be eighteen years of age in order to be
recruited into hostile environments. In these army, children often carry loads
of ammunition to soldiers, act as messengers, or fight in direct action.
Kidnapped girls, the most vulnerable civilians to these crimes, often serve as prostitutes
to soldiers. In total, twenty three countries fail to provide any protection
for their young, resulting in sexual assaults, permanent injuries, and death to many. Those who manage to escape from their servitude suffer severe psychological
consequences due to their loss of fundamental rights, including the right of expression,
speech, choice, education, and, most importantly, to play, explore, and live
like a child.
Though this UN Secretary General’s
Special Representative on Children and Armed Conflict outrageously demands for
legislation to protect these children, the
UN fails to achieve substantial ground to prohibit the growth of this inhumane
movement. UNICEF strives to do what the UN cannot. They provide
protection, medical treatments, counseling, and education for child soldiers
and orphans. In 2009, they helped release 2,813 soldiers that fought in the civil
war in the Congo and they rescued 145,000 children from the Syrian
conflict in 2012. Ninety one cents out of every dollar donated goes to aid children who struggle to survive every day in these terrible conditions.
Reading this article forced me to realize how lucky I am to be born to a nation that allowed me to develop and define myself throughout my early years of life. In addition, my family, to this day, constantly protects me from violence, provides me with a stable living, and ensures that I always have someone to talk to when I feel discouraged, despite obligations they have. Yet I often find myself taking this great life of mine for granted, quickly forgetting that half way across the world, there is a child soldier staring into the night, wondering if he will survive to the morning.
To donate to UNICEF, please go to this website: https://www.unicefusa.org/donate/donate-end-preventable-deaths-children
Main Sources (article): http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=48180#.U7dCJfldXTY
Other sources used:
YouTube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqbQ1Av9_0Q
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