A Child from Kosovo

A Child from Kosovo

(Translated from the Arabic short story by: Muna al-‘amad.)

She left with her child under the cast of darkness. & According to the appointed time, she met them. They all shared the same purpose in leaving the city, fleeing for their lives & family... & honor. They walked withholding their breath so that the Serbian soldiers wouldn’t feel their presence. Now & then, they would turn around & look at each other, trying to derive strength from each other. & From time to time, they would look at the sky & mutter prayers & invocations. Their heart prostrated & pleaded with Allah to blind the eyes of their enemies. Suddenly her child cried. Every one turned to her with a stern look on his face, obliging her to quiet him in any possible way. They all feared that the child's cry might expose them to the mercy of the hungry human wolves who yearned for prey & bloodshed. She held him to her chest & began feeding him & in her mind she saw pictures of the horrible genocide committed by the army against the people of her city.

She would never forget that bloodbath committed in the primary school that was close to her house.

In the early morning of that day, children went to their school, carrying little dreams in their heart. Their parents said goodbye to them with the hope that they will return as usual at lunch. But at that bleak & dark day, no one of them returned. A gang of Serbian criminals & murderers entered the school & slaughtered the children like goats. They cut their limbs & threw them in the streets in front of the school. The parents at noon came to pick their children but instead saw a terrible tragedy, which would turn a child's hair gray.

She looked at her own child & pressed him to her chest & walked with the others in despair. Grief & fear urged her to continue walking. Her child cried again. & Again every one looked at her with the images of bloodshed in their minds that might be repeated because of her child's cries. She covered his mouth with her hand to suppress his yells. They passed through the woods near a checkpoint trying to sneak away. So silently they escaped, that no one of them could even hear his own breathe out of terror. They looked at her warning her not to allow her child's voice alert the Serbian gangsters sitting nearby thirsty for murder & torture.

The mother was pressing her child's mouth against her so that his voice would not unveil their escape. She covered him with a thick blanket to silence him. The dangers around them were many. Even if they escaped the Serbian danger who lead to a genocide more horrible than that of deir-yaseen (in Palestine) they might be caught by the Nato forces who would demolish the caravan of refugees. Though the refugees always held the white flag, they were frequently killed by 'mistake'.

Finally the journey of terror came to an end. They reached their peaceful refuge & looked at each other but none dared to smile. She removed her hand off her son's mouth. Now let him cry as much as he likes… let him yell at his full voice... but… he did not cry. He did not produce the slightest sound. She looked at him with terror. He is not moving, he is not even breathing. He has been silenced forever.