The Journalist

Part 40: Me and the Little Girl

In this land that was once called a piece of Heaven in the Arab Land, I met special people and carved stories with them that I found so difficult to forget in the future ....

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The sky has darkened. The atmosphere seemed gripping where the smell of chemicals from the explosion mixed with the smell of blood that was striking my sense of smell. For hours, the little boy and I were stuck in a store that was broken. The battle this time was really fierce, as if there was no time to rest for them. The sound of gunfire was still rumbling without pause, accompanied by occasional grenade explosions.

The air tonight is so piercing our skin. I hugged him who was cold. The little boy sat on my lap holding my hands tightly. Every time he heard an explosion, he would bite the back of my hand firmly. We can not go anywhere because the location of this store is directly facing the center point of the two camps that attack each other. Countless number of stray bullets were pointing at us. Fortunately we were protected by copper sheets that were piled up on the front of the store.

"Don't be afraid!" my whiskey.

She turned her head towards me, the sad look from her pair of eyeballs made me think of someone. Yeah, this kid made me think back to the beginning of my meeting with Ameena.

"Are you hungry?" ask again.

He nodded quickly. I reached into the left pocket of my pants. There's nothing but a cell phone I accidentally turned off. I reached into my right pocket, only two sweets. I gave the candy to her.

"Eat this! As soon as I get out of here, I'll get you a better, more filling meal" I said, opening the wrapper and putting the candy in his mouth.

"Thank you, Blonde Uncle!" he said while smiling.

My eyes were wide open and my hands spontaneously held onto my hair which was predominantly golden yellow. I laughed, saying, "Don't call me uncle! I'm still young! How old are you?"

He raised all six of his fingers, a sign of his age of six. I am twenty-six years old this year. However, wasn't that age still too young to be called uncle?

"We are only twenty years apart. So call me brother. Okay?" my door.

He's nodding. "Yes, Blonde Brother."

Unlike when meeting Ameena, this time we have no trouble communicating because I have fluent Arabic. Unfortunately, I have not been able to ask her identity further because the sound of explosions continues to sound in succession to make her again frightened.

An hour later, the gun contact began to subside. There were about thirty minutes I let time pass to make sure the two-forge battle was over. I looked at the boy, it turned out that he had fallen asleep in my arms. Last year, when I met her I didn't know she was a girl if Zaheera hadn't said it first. But now, she really looks like a beautiful little girl in a white headscarf with splashes of blood.

So sure that the situation outside was safe, I carried the little girl to come out of our hiding place. Mirisnya, the scenery we have to see is thousands of people without lives lying just like that. I stepped carefully so as not to step on the bodies. Some spots where there is still smoke from the remnants of the bombing.

Not a single vehicle passing by made me have to walk on foot with such a heavy bulletproof vest and helmet. Plus, I have to carry the child on my back. I tried to contact my comrades, but it turned out that the signal in this area was lost due to the effects of the war earlier. Hungry and thirst mixed into one.

"Brass Blonde ...." The little girl's voice ran softly into my ear.

"Yes ...." I hurried to look back.

"I want to get off!"

"Why? Is there something sick in your body?"

She shook her head.

"Would you pee?"

He's back to shakes. "I also want to walk beside you. If you keep holding me, you'll be exhausted."

I'm tumbled. How could a six-year-old have this kind of sympathy and understanding.

"Ah, it's okay. I'm an ex-soldier. It's definitely strong."

"really? Did Blonde Brother ever shoot anyone? Do you like to catch people too? How many have you killed?"

I'm speechless. The army profession should be a profession of honor and pride in every country. But the little boys in this country think soldiers are like killers. Because, that's what their brains have seen and recorded all this time.

"Brother Blonde, do you have any friends here?"

"Friends? Hhmm .. have!"

"What's your friend like?"

"I have three friends."

"What do they look like? Is there a girl?" ask again.

"There was. They're all my coworkers."

After walking a long way, I found the police station. I decided to go there to leave this boy. There, I made a report of the child's findings in the middle of the war, hoping that the police could find his parents. Before I finished writing the report, I turned to the boy for a moment. It turned out that he was also looking at me while sitting quietly on the waiting bench.

I got a call from So who turned out to have been waiting for me outside the office. Yeah, I did call them to pick me up. As soon as I finished making the report, I approached the little girl while crouching before her.

"Sister, the police are trying to find your family. You should be here until someone comes to pick you up." I patted her head gently, then stood up and turned around.

Just two steps away, I felt a strong pull at the end of my shirt. I turned around, looking at him who was standing behind me with his tiny hand squeezing firmly at the end of my shirt.

"Sister, you can't come with me. You should wait for your family here!" I turned back and walked quickly to So who was waiting for me. However, I felt my footsteps being followed by someone. I twisted my body, it turned out that the little girl was still following me.

"Stay in place! Don't follow!" I asked as I directed the little girl to remain motionless. I even walked back to make sure he wasn't following me.

I walked back quickly. However, the hoarse voice of the little girl made my footsteps stifled.

"Brass Blonde ...."

I took a breath, then tried not to ignore it. However, he continued to call me softly.

"Ayano, is he the little boy you helped?" ask So.

I nodded as I prepared to board the motorbike So had hired to pick me up. The boy kept calling me.

"He keeps calling you! Looks like he wants to come with you."

"Where might we take him. What if her parents are looking for her right now. Taking him to the nearest police station is appropriate" I said.

"What if her parents turned out to be dead during that gun contact. Aren't many locals killed? Ah, I'm so reminded of my niece who's this child-old."

My eyes were round for a moment. I spontaneously turned to look at the little girl. Then I saw things around. It's late at night, even the police on guard seem to care less about him. I approached him quickly. My arrival was greeted with a charming smile.

I crouched down in front of him while holding both of his hands. "Sister, do you want to come with me?"

He nodded quickly.

"But you have to answer my question."

He just looked at me with a plain look.

"What's your name?"

"Khalila Ali."

"Ka–kha–khari–khalila?" So and I had trouble saying her name.

"Why is there such a difficult name!" protest So.

He even laughed at us who seemed to spell his name. As a native Japanese, I still sometimes have trouble pronouncing the consonants L and R. This is because in our language there is no clear mention of L and R.

"I'm Ayano. Call me Ayano! And this is my friend, So."

So waved at him in a friendly manner.

"Do you really live in this area?" ask again.

She shook her head. "No, I just came with my mom to hand out the groceries to this place. But the army came attacking suddenly to separate me and my mother" he said in a typical child explanatory style.

"Hey, Ayano, what did he say?" tanya So curious.

I explained back to So the boy.

So surprised. "Don't his mother be dead!"

I looked back at the girl. This time, his eyes dimmed.

I carried him up and said, "Don't be sad! Tomorrow we'll find your mother!"

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visuals Khalila Ali