Feb 11, 2009


Roaring sound elude the air, bullet flying everywhere. The street is deserted, women, children, brothers, sisters, everyone fleeing to an unknown destination, finding shelter to rescue their heads and the life's of their children and love ones. We had no where to go, no one to run to. Those who we think can help us, most of them have died, while others have fled to neighboring villages. The more we run the more the war keeps coming close. We never had a day or two to rest before the war reaches our tent. I lost his mother during one of the conflicts while we were trying to escape a terrible plot by gunmen who came in surprise in the middle of the night, both of us miss our way and couldn't find one another.
Story came that she is died. That she was shoot while trying to find her way towards a narrow path, some people say because she was pregnant she couldn't run, that she was in pain, maybe she wants to deliver, then died on the curse. Some say she is nowhere to be found. But to me, that was the last time I saw my mother. The only memory I have is the last time we held hands together, running for our life's. Maybe that is the way life has decided for both of them.
Or maybe, life has something ahead for this young boy to become a voice that will rebel against the oppressions and discrimination. Maybe he is the positive force that will one day stand up and redeem his people from pang they are.

Deep in my sleep I bellow,
light flashes deep into
the heavens cry, unveiling it garments of non
a tempest, a shrill wind,
a eye of eagle eroding through
the rivers. Thus; greed prevailed in thy

Deep sleep in my dream I quench,
the thirst of agony, lingered in
the borders of innocents soul.
“I listen to each word coming
from his mouth,
each vessels he puke
rebel the string he abide”.
A bitter junction like the sparrow
tide to its web.

“As we forgive those who wrongs us,
so shall the dowers who miss leads us
realize we are no seed for Hebrews”.

the street is crying deep,
lamenting as the scorn pierce deep,
its swords knows no justice with its struck.
The street is falling low,
innocent juveniles
wonder for better days
cos thy sanctuary is false before them.

deep in my dream I am cast away
my dreams, my hopes where blown astray,
my history,
my courage is hung,
killed by the same weapon
once admire.

“children should be going to
not fighting in battles, because
they will lose their
even if they survive.”

for Emmanuel Jal and many other children who were taking away by military men to train to become a weapon of destruction to mankind. who have fought in Sudan's war. To those who lost their love ones and still mourning as we speak. The war in Sudan, Zimbabwe, Liberia, Kenya and all over Africa continent.

“We need peace and justice”.


Vincent said...

children should be going to school, not fighting battles, because they will still lose their life even if they survive.
Emmanuel Jal recall as he struggle through the hideous maim of surviving for himself. the war has not only taking clinch his fellow comrade whom that were together in Eithiopia, but also his dear mother who fought trying to ... Read Moreprotect her children.
emmanuel was only seven(7)years old when he was taking to away from his parent, though he never saw his father, but he still find his way to survive through all the trails ahead of him.

Vincent said...

A Young Man On A Mission

"Left home at the age of seven/one year later I'm carryin' an Ak-47." For hip hop artist Emmanuel Jal, a former child soldier in Sudan's brutal civil war, these lyrics are hardly empty posturing. They are the bitter reality of a young man who was "forced to sin" but determined to "never give up and never give in." Today, ... Read Morewounded but still hopeful, he fights a new battle: bringing peace to his beloved Sudan and building schools in Africa. This time, his weapon is a microphone. See why audiences from New York to Berlin to London rave about the award-winning film, War Child, and have embraced the hip-hop artist with a terrifying past and a gentle soul. Interspersing original interviews, live concerts, and rare footage of Jal as a seven year-old boy, War Child will make viewers cry, laugh, dance, and celebrate the power of hope.