Echoes of Innocence: African Children's Appeal to a World of Solidarity

Child of Africa?

City of tears, Africa

[email protected]

For the world,

Dear World,

My name is Child. I hope you're well, as for me, not quite. I thought it was time you knew how I feel, what I experience every day here, on this African soil. You see me, but sometimes I believe you don't truly look at me. So, let me tell you what I'm going through.

You know, I'm everywhere, from the north to the south, from the east to the west, in every corner of this land that breathes the warmth of the sun. I'm two years old, fifteen years old, nineteen years old, four years old, nine years old. I grow under the gaze of African stars, on dusty streets, along rocky paths. But sometimes, I grow up too fast, much faster than I should. The wars that rumble, the men who fight, they take me by the hand and force me to become an adult even before I've had a chance to be a child.

Poverty? Oh yes, it's there, lurking in the shadow of my life. It reaches out to me every morning when I wake up, when my stomach rumbles with hunger. It accompanies me as I travel miles to fetch water, when my bare feet meet the scorching ground.

School? It's like a distant star, shining but out of reach. I thirst for knowledge, to understand the world around me, but education is often denied to me.

Oh, I almost forgot, the names that adults give me here. They hurt me, they coil around me like venomous snakes. "Vidomegons," "Skolombo," "Nanga Boko," "Majimaji," "Snake Children," and here I've only mentioned a few. These words are like stones thrown at me, constantly reminding me of what I lack, what I am not, and that I am neither desired nor loved. I just want to be "Me," to be loved and cherished, but instead, I'm beaten every day. My parents reject me, my aunts and uncles reject me, and I feel so alone, world...

I understand that I am their misfortune, the source of all their problems. You know, world, every night, I fall asleep gazing at your vast and wide sky with dreams in my eyes, forgetting for a few minutes the heavy burdens of these cruel labels, only to wake up the next day and load them onto my small head again.

Female genital mutilation? It's a pain I can't express with words. The tears of my sisters, their silent cries, haunt my nights. Forced marriage? A nightmare in which I'm trapped. I should be playing with my friends, learning to discover life, but I find myself bound by promises I never made.

Healthcare? Doctors are heroes in their white coats, but they're not always where I need them. Vaccines? They're supposed to protect me, to give me a chance to grow strong and healthy, but sometimes, they're as rare as shooting stars.

Slavery? I thought it ended many years ago, world, but it's like an invisible chain that imprisons me, a shadow that hangs over my future. My innocence is often sold for selfish gains, leaving me trapped in a cycle of suffering I can't break.

So, world, I want you to look at me, truly look at me. Hear my appeal. I'm not just an idea, a distant statistic. I am a Child, with hopes, dreams, and an insatiable thirst for life. I need your love, your compassion, your help to light my path.

Signed,

Child.

By Djissou Maryella