Bibliography

http://quakeragitator.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/spla-child.jpg

http://dusteye.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/childsoldiers.jpg

http://kassandraproject.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/child-soldiers_7866.jpg

http://homepages.wmich.edu/~acareywe/images/childsoldiers.jpg

http://thankyoudaddy.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/sudanese001.jpg

http://iadiedee.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/child_soldiers_by_latuff2.jpg

A Recipe for a Child Soldier

Take some fear and boil it,
add a cup of unexpected things,
a spoon of loss,

a pinch of hatred,
and a whole lot of confusion.
Another spoon of bruises,
and another pinch of gunshots,
there you have it, your child soldier,
now treat it well,
and care for it,
because remember,
you forgot to add the most important ingredient-

childhood.

Day Eight

Dear Journal,

This was it. We lost the battle. It's over, at least for me. Captain Mendoza is sending me back home. He wants me to become a schoolteacher and educate people about our country and how its important to defend it. War is never-ending, and I was sick of it. I was sick of hating, of anger, of blood and dead people, of guns, and of getting hurt. But I knew, that even if I went back to my village, to my house, to my mother and brothers and sisters, and even if I did get a job as a teacher, in my heart, I will always be a soldier. Because the things I experienced in this revolution I will never forget. Some things that I saw or heard will stitch themselves to my bones like tattoos. This war taught me that holding a gun doesn't make you a soldier. Shooting one, and hurting others doesn't make you brave, it just makes you stupid. That's why Captain Mendoza is sending me home, because he thinks I work well with people. Though no one knows it, I was the one who dragged the wounded Juan into the church and probably saved his life. I was also the one that cared for the girl and the new born baby that we found in the stranded village. I have what it takes to be a true soldier, a true man. The revolution isn't about fighting, it's about caring for the people around you, and treating them like equals. So all in all, this experience has definitely changed me. It made me smarter, more open to new ideas and new things. I'm going to go back home now and tell my story to others, and hope that they follow in my path.

Day Seven

Dear Journal,

It feels like my first day here all over again. Like I'm the new soldier, always asking questions, always getting the least important job, like caring for a baby while everyone else is digging graves. So much happened in the past few hours since I was woken up by the whistle. We received news that San Ildefonso has fallen into loyalist hands, and we were going to fight and take it back. It had been with almost no warning that we were told to pack our things and line up in front of Captain Mendoza. Ignacio, Lolo and I were supposed to follow Sergeant Diaz and wait by a river to keep watch until the rest of the army came with Captain Mendoza. Again, just like two days ago, I felt a rush of relief as we left the fortress, but that was gone in a second as I remembered why we were doing so. I learned many things in the past week in the camp, but one of the most important things I learned is that you always have to expect surprises in a war. This was one of those times when you have to walk out of your bubble and be ready for anything that might happen. I knew that no matter what happened today, I was going to have to fire a gun. And kill someone. That thought scared me more than anything else, and the knot that appeared in my stomach as we left the HQ tightened every few steps. Only I knew that I had not killed the loyalist on our patrol two days ago. Only I knew that I was too chicken to kill even my enemy. But when the time came, the loyalist armies where surfing on boats a few meters away from us, that I had to do it, or I would die. And I pressed the trigger. I can't say I enjoyed it, I don't think anyone would enjoy hurting a fellow human being, but I did feel relieved that the knot in my stomach disappeared.

Day Five

Dear Journal,

Today, for the first time since I was recruited into the revolutionary army, we got out of the camp to take a patrol with Captain Mendoza and a couple of others. I felt relieved to get out of the little prison of the HQ, but it was hard nonetheless seeing what was happening outside the fortress. We entered a village that the loyalists just left and saw the mess they abandoned. There was blood and dead bodies everywhere, Old men and women, younger women that could have been the same age as my mother, and a little boy. I was scared of looking at the boy, somehow he reminded me of my younger brothers. The real high-point of the day, though, was when Captain Mendoza sent me to get leaves or flowers to put on the graves. I was looking around when I saw a girl, about the age of ten or twelve, wounded, and clutching a bundle of clothes. Inside them was a baby. I called for the others, who helped pick her up and clean her wound. Captain Mendoza set me in the charge of the newborn baby boy. As I sat wondering about the revolution, I felt angry at the loyalists. Why did they have to come and kill the little boy in the village? Or the Old lady? What did they ever do to them? I made a silent agreement with myself to punish every last loyalist that I see, if its the last thing I do.

Day Two

Dear Journal,

As the day went by, I realized a couple of things about this revolution, this and any other. it is long, tiring, and it goes on forever. If the revolutionaries will win the war, they will become the new loyalists and elect a president. After a while the poorer of the country's population will come up with an army of their own and will become the new revolutionaries. It's a never-ending cycle, and Lolo a Ignacio agree with me. If this revolution, the 43rd revolution to be exact, ever ends, life for the peasants will stay the same, if not become worse. The rich with become fatter, and the poor will become skinnier and die. I had a chance to talk to Captain Mendoza about my ideas this morning, and I was quite surprised that he talked back to me. He told me something about our country having a jaguar for a father and a volcano for a mother, and that the only people getting hurt are the children. Later on I found out that Captain Mendoza's son got killed in an ambush yesterday night. I don't agree with what he told me. I think that the government should just give families like mine more money, make education free so that everybody can be taught to read and write, and especially end this stupid, pointless war.

Day One

Dear Journal,
I cannot believe that we've only been here one day. I guess that time flies by when you're having fun. NOT. When I woke up this morning to the sound of trucks outside my house, I never dreamed that I would end up in the fortress of the Revolutionaries in just a couple of hours. I still cannot forget the look on my mom's face when we started driving away, and I wondered if I would ever see her again. We drove in the trucks, and kept very quite. My mind was busy thinking about what had just happened when we finally reached the fortress, the chance of escaping gone. When the truck came to a complete stop, men with machine guns came and checked every single corner of it. I wondered if I, too, would have to hold one of those guns, and at the same thought wondered if it would be heavy for my skinny arms. We received food, Tortillas, rice, beans, and even a cup of coffee, and started our training. While we were eating, I got a chance to look around a little. The HQ stood somewhere in the mountains, overlooking the volcano called Atlacatl. It was mostly rocky earth with a few trees and tall grass standing near by. I met many new people today, including two boys called Joan and Esteban, and I didn’t like both very much. Joan is very bossy and thinks a lot of himself. He and Esteban were the two soldiers that were training us to become something like them; a hard expectation is you ask me. But it’s getting late and if Joan, or worse, Sergeant Diáz saw that I was awake, I wouldn’t be here to write what happens to me tomorrow.