Junior School Magazine - Edition 6 (NOV 2018)

Y ear 5 - N arrative

CHAPTER 1 - ABOOD

The war started with one single BANG! Hayyan had rolled a six on the dice, catching up to me, Abood, in snakes and ladders when the rumbling began. Mama and Baba ran in as well as Hayyan’s parents. We sprinted to the lone miniscule window that gave us a little of a view of Aleppo, Syria. From then on things seemed to proceed in slow motion. We were propelled backwards with a blast of air from the pineapple grenade hitting the ground. While we were blasted backwards, I hit my head on the edge of a razor-sharp table. The next thing I knew I woke up with excruciating pain on the side of my head. I touched the space on my head that was most painful and as I looked at my hand there was a smudge of blood. I could feel a trickle of blood dripping down the side of my cheek as I moaned in agony. Mama and Baba looked at me with horrified and concerned expressions. Hayyan rushed to my side with a look of despair in his eyes as he helped me to my feet. I knew what my parents were going to say next and it was what I had been dreading for the whole ten years of my life. “We have to flee,” they said and that was the start of my life as a refugee. I found out what a refugee was when I was five years old. Baba explained it to me as “a person who has been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution or natural disaster.” There are many reasons that cause people to flee. For example if there’s a war in your country, your political opinion is different to the party ruling your country, if people are against your race or your human rights being denied. In this case we were refugees escaping from a civil war. Reluctantly, I packed my undersized suitcase wishing I didn’t have to go, though I knew it was for my own good. “HURRY UP” Mama shouted in panic, as another bomb fulminated. I swiftly said a goodbye to my rickety old house, my heart heavy with sorrow. I felt so sorry for Hayyan because he didn’t get to say goodbye to his house and I knew he wouldn’t go back there ever again. I pondered the thought of which country we were going to flee to. Maybe we would travel to Australia, because in 2012 to 2016, 314 refugees came to Australia. Baba always dreamt of moving to Australia, as it is a peaceful and safe country with no wars, unlike Syria. As we abandoned the house, a shiver ran down my spine, and not just because it was 7 degrees which prickled my skin like thorns. I was absolutely horrified and so was Abood. I could tell from his expressions. There were ghastly, lifeless bodies, gallons of blood on the sides of the destroyed road and every few seconds there was a deafening “BANG!”, followed by an incessant blood curdling yelp or scream. It was like hell all in one country. “We don’t deserve to be here!” I thought. “We deserve more than this, we are too young to see these gruesome and grotesque sites. These are things children our age shouldn’t even imagine! We have the right not to be exposed to these things!” I remember reading an article about all the children’s rights that are neglected when you are a refugee. I was shocked how so many children’s rights are denied and because of this, I have feared of being a refugee ever since. The Children’s Rights Convention (CRC) articles: 1, 2, 4, 6, 9, 10, 11, 22, 24, 26, 27, 28, 31 and 36 are all the rights that child refugees are deprived of. I memorized them for fun and just in case they come in handy in a certain situation. Continued over page.. . CHAPTER 2 - HAYYAN

JSM Edition 6

Page 17