I Saw Him Die Today

I went away for a few days on an assignment, I view the world through a lens but on most trips I take a journal because you cant capture all that you feel in a story unless you write it down when you have a moment to sit and reflect on the events of the day that has just passed.

I stepped off the plane, a small twin engine that shook and rattled and a pilot that I very much doubt even had his license, and as bad as it was to his credit he landed without incident. even though my knuckles were white from holding on so tight as I prayed that we didn't flip on what can only be referred to as a makeshift landing strip in the middle of no where. I exited the plane and closed my eyes breathing in the crisp mountain air, my knees still shaking, I lost my balance and fell to the ground partially due to the relief I felt that we had landed safely.

We had a long trek into the mountains ahead of us to get to where we were headed, never knowing if we were actually going to make it, not knowing what lay ahead of us 48 hours may not seem like a long time to us right now it seemed like an eternity. a child no more then 15 stepped forward, an automatic riffle in his hand finger at the ready and a machete strapped to his hip. He was scared from battles past he was young in years but his eyes told me a different story. what had this child seen his eyes full of hatred and fueled by the desire to fight how can someone so young look so old.

He signaled for us to follow him and stepped back into the shadows of the surrounding forest silently and without hesitation, we grabbed our gear a backpack each and two small hand held video cameras a few bottles of water each, nothing more to travel light is to travel fast. we followed in silence no set track to walk we later found that the soldiers never walk the same path as it will be to easy for the government to follow a worn track. gun slung over his shoulder he removed the machete and easily cut through the vines and obstacles in his path he had done this so many times before.

after several hours 4 maybe more we arrive at our destination, a camp that looks abandoned but in the distance there is gunfire and yelling almost a chant. A sound of victory in the distance. the soldiers are returning and greet the boy that had led us here in a friendly manner they talk and a smile breaks out on the face of the boy but not a smile of joy it almost looked as if it was a smile of satisfaction.

Later one of the militia leaders came to speak to us, his English was broken and he was hard to understand although he spoke better English then I spoke Indonesian or Tetum. he took us around the camp, showing us the training grounds, I saw children as young as 7 learning how to fire guns he told us that they were learning to be men I asked him how can they be men they a boys, children. he told me that they are men and will fight and die as men.

To my left I saw a child an 8 year old boy with tears in his eyes, I walked up to him and asked his name he didn't respond, I asked again he continued to sob. I sat with him till the militia leader called me over to show me more of the training grounds, I asked my guide about the boy and he told me he was new just been "recruited" and he would be tested soon enough.

after dark I again went to the boy who sat alone, I offered him a chocolate bar that I had bought before I left home, I had forgotten till then that I had it. he took it and ate it faster then anyone I had seen before, he thanked me I was surprised by how well he spoke English so I asked him why he was so sad, "I miss my family, I was taken from them and I just want to go home" he told me "but if I run they will kill me and my family". we talked for hours before he fell asleep and I wasn't far behind him.

my crew and I awoke to yelling and a scuffle the boy was being dragged by one of the older men by the arm he was resisting, I got up and followed not knowing what was about to happen, I ran to the circle that had formed of cheering yelling militia men waving riffles in the air and laughing in the middle of the circle was an Indonesian solder on his knees and blindfolded. his head down in prayer. our guide from the day before handed the child a small fire arm and pushed him into the circle, the gun although small looked huge in his tiny hand. The mob went quiet except for the leader he yelled if you don't you die.

He was shaking and I said to the leader please don't do this he is a child, he hesitated then told me he has to do it sometime prove that he is a man, fear is weak and we will not have weakness here.

This child that only hours before was crying and scared wanting to only go home stood behind the soldier holding the gun in his tiny hands, placed it to the back of the soldiers head his hands shaking tears still wet on his face, he looked up and his eyes caught mine for a moment the man beside me yelled to him do it do it now or you will suffer, in that final moment his eyes changed from look of fear to something else, almost vacant a flash of fire and the sound of a shot rang out.

The Soldier fell forward, blood seeping from his head as the child stood over him only he was no longer that innocent child that he was just a few hours before. the cheers went up from those that stood around, I watched as the man took the gun from the boy and patted him on the back telling him you are a man now. I stepped back and lent against a tree, the tears flowing freely not for the soldier but for the boy.

I watch him die today, with a single shot from a gun his innocence was gone his childhood destroyed.

I look around the camp for the final time before I leave and see that there are so many child soldiers, children taken from there families and forced to kill and die, I look one last time for the little boy and find him on the training field with a rifle in his hand, his eye caught mine and he smiled and waved no longer a child but a soldier.

Years have past and I went back to East Timor on Friday and I couldn't help but wonder what happened to him, he never told me his name but his face has haunted me for so long in my sleep. I heard that the camp had been discovered by the soldiers and that several militia had been killed, I knew the village he was from so I started there, I took a translator and started talking to the villagers, after several hours I found a lady in her 40's although she looked much older she showed me a photo of her nephew, it was my child soldier.

I asked her what happened to him and she told me he had been killed a few years after I had left he was 11 and had been shot by Indonesian soldiers during a battle. she took me to a field with a white cross where my child soldier had been laid to rest he died as did many other children fighting in a war that he should never have even witnessed let alone fought in.

I sat in the field for hours, alone with my thoughts and reflecting on the day I saw this child's innocence die, he is at rest now and the cycle goes on. The militia still walk these parts and many more children have been taken and raised as soldiers even though East Timor is no longer under the Indonesian regime and I wonder when will this stop.

As I write this I look out the window at the children playing in the street, they have never known war and they play careless and free, no fear and I cry for the loss of a child a world away. When will it stop.