Hello, humanity!

 My name is Mahir, and I'm an 18-month-old baby. Don't worry about my little age. Don't think about how I wrote this letter. I haven't even reached the age of eighteen, but I've experienced what 50-60 years old people haven't. So I'm not like other babies. I know how to read and write.

   Before I was born, I went to prison in the womb. I was a friend of my mother in courtrooms, in prison corners, and police custody. Not only that. I couldn't stay in my own house after I was born. I've always been in different places so that the police won't catch my mom and dad. I could not sleep for a month in my room, which was prepared and decorated for me and, most importantly, in my cradle.

I met smugglers on my father's lap at midnight when I was three months old. Two hours under a sharp fly attack, muddy waters, I traveled through the woods. Then we crossed the Meric river, where three babies drowned just a few days ago. I can't tell you about the 10 minutes I spent on the boat because I haven't learned the word to say to you at that moment. Although I understand from my father's speeches, there was no such word. We crossed over, and we spent that night in the woods. My mom and dad put everything on me so I wouldn't get cold. They waited by me till morning. Then I stayed in prison in Greece for five days without air, without light, without even soap in the toilets. After the United Nations camp, we went to Athens. I got sick there and my parents, who couldn't take me to a doctor because there was no hospital nearby, they were very worried. And I'm also sorry that I worried them so much. With great effort, my father and mother managed to get me to Norway.

   In fact, at first, everything was getting pretty good. We got off the plane, and the policemen who met me gave me a special baby seat. Not only that but when we went to the refugee camp, the libero touch diaper, which was the best quality, gave me the right place to live. Look how much they think of me. But I soon realized that wasn't the truth at all.

   I am an 18-month-old baby, and I have been forced to live in a room for 15 months. We had to use the toilet, bathroom, kitchen with a family that we had never known before and did not even know the language. I couldn't crawl as I wanted because we had only one room, because I was coming to the end of our room in 5 steps. I couldn't laugh or cry the way I wanted. I always had to pour the same drawers and tear the same books. I always kept myself to avoid disturbing our neighbors in our next room. Sometimes I couldn't, but I cried and felt sorry that my mother and father were ashamed against our neighbors. There are no parks or entertainment areas nearby. That's why I was trapped in a room. To sum it up, the only difference from my mother's prison was that my father shared the same room with us.

   In fact, it's not the only thing that upset me. I feel sorry for the children staying in the next room and having to share the same room with their parents. Because they're much bigger than me and they're even more emotional. Not only that. There are children coming from Africa who have no father with them, which is deplorable. Their mothers deal with everything, and they cry unless they see them. Both crying themselves are miserable and screaming adults, and we babies are disturbed.

   Not that I'm lucky. We reached Norway after a few weeks of misery, but when I saw the children who had been traveling for years, I was glad to come to our single room. Even with this joy, from time to time, I also smile at my parents to give morale.

   You may consider me weird right now. You may think that I won't always be able to get what we want in this life. I don't know, maybe you're right; after all, I'm a refugee. But recently I heard my parents talking to each other. Experts acknowledge that human psychology does not require long periods, as it can interact significantly with a small moment or even a behavior. Especially the smaller the age, the greater the effect could be. In fact, they don't even know that I've heard and understood. Mostly, they, like other people, are unaware that babies read what goes through people's eyes and minds. They don't even know I'm writing this letter right now. If we complain, the authorities could extend our operations, or they could fire us from their country. So I write this letter unaware of them.

   Please let our voices be heard because we babies want to start life on equal terms with other babies. We don't want to live in a room in prison. 

Note.: As an Amnesty volunteer, I wanted to tell the drama of a family in a refugee camp I visited in Norway.