Ive heard some interesting commentary lately regarding the war. This war is a hard thing to understand, its a hard concept to grasp, and its impossible to imagine- only those who have been there truly know its secrets. The beauty of this country is freedom of speech, and the freedom to form your own thoughts and opinions. The sad thing about this country is that truth is rarely portrayed and news sources are often not trustworthy. Many people dont understand the reason we are at war, and I’m not writing this to politically debate the war. Im writing this to help people understand that war does not always mean death, blood, killing, violence... It can mean that, but the dark pieces of it are not all encompassing. Let me shed some light. When I went to war, I walked. I would bet I walked hundreds of miles in my area of Afghanistan. I didnt walk alone; I walked with my brothers and sisters. We were not hunters, we were not killers, we were peace keepers, we were safety, we were protection. Not only were we safety, we were a godsend. We walked endlessly; we knew each crevice, each wall, each city street that had raw sewage running down the middle of the walkway. We knew the shops, we knew the mosques, we became very familiar with the schools, we knew which children came from which house and what many of their needs were. We were trusted, we meant safety. We meant the rebuilding of their villages, we were job creators, we were medical care, we were providers of food, water, school supplies, clothes, hats, gloves, shoes... A simple pencil created the opportunity to be able to go to school. We were celebrated, we were wanted. We were invited in for tea, for henna painting; we were given the best fruits and vegetables from their gardens. We were brought chai tea and candies while we guarded bombs planted in villages until they could be properly detonated. We kept children from being harmed by men who could care less about killing their own. We were hope, hope for a better future, hope for safety, hope for change. I represented hope that women could someday be counted as equals, and I proudly walked with my head held high. I removed my helmet to show them I was a girl, I gave a glimmer of hope to each and every little girl, and many days I felt like royalty. Walking through their villages they would run screaming angelie, angelie, which means girl. I am proud of that. I would sacrifice and do that all over again to give those people what I gave them. The tragedy in this is that people dont know. People dont understand the struggles, the life, the hope, the want for a better future, and what we represent. Its certainly not stone cold killing; perhaps its just a little taste of peace. A little taste of what Americans take for granted every single day of their lives. Perhaps they are the misinformed.
Posted on: Thu, 28 Aug 2014 05:28:02 +0000