Girl from Darfur

FOR OUR SISTERS SURVIVING GENOCIDE.

We mediated peace in Darfur. Seated under an ancient tree, the rebel command shared with us the grizzliest details. Women and girls, especially, were targets of a heinous campaign of terror – kidnapped and raped on their daily runs to collect water and firewood. At the end, she pushed her way through the crowds, and rolled up her sleeve. A gash – from assault or worse? – ran the entire length of her arm. She hoped for my help. And I, with all my theoretical degrees, could offer none. Barely 11 years old, she accepted this with grace. Her whole beautiful being emanated peace from within. She roared with laughter at my name “Betra” (as Arabic has no “P”), and just had to bring the other kids in on this joke. At her behest, there, in the middle of Darfur’s genocide, war, and crimes against humanity, I got to stand in the company of laughing children. What a powerful little goddess of peace.