Efrîn Diary: No dignity to expect from cowards

You read in the news of Turkish air raids on Afrin, but do you know what happens when a bomb is dropped? I have experienced it, I know it.

In Afrin, no raindrops rain down on us, but bombs. And in the TV channels, Turkey's President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan says: "We opened our hearts to our Kurdish brothers, we did not drop bombs on them." That's not irony, it's reality, and this man says that as if he believes his own words. All occupiers are liars. They are thieves, are unscrupulous. And if in the time you live in, the lie has more weight than the truth, then you should be aware that you are just experiencing the last day. We are in the middle of it right now.

I sit cross-legged on the threshold of time and think about it, as an explosion is heard after an eerie roar. The air force of the Turkish occupiers bombarded our graves. Our bones spurt out of the earth. Our living people were put under the earth, our dead are brought out of the earth again. Our bodies and souls have been allowed peace neither above or under the earth.

An old man, with a grimace of pain, searches for the dead bodies of his loved ones whom he buried in this place that used to be a graveyard, now a rubble field. How I wish there was another world to take my land with, and my people whose hearts were broken a million times, I tell myself. I cannot think of a term to describe the enemy. Weak and cruel is not enough. The right word for the treachery of the enemy has not yet been invented.

We Kurds are the black of this world. Kurdistan is a blood spitting volcano of this earth. We should not have been born at this time, we do not fit into this time, we are too naive for this time. The enemy we are meant for is too amorphous.

You read in the news of the Turkish air raids on Afrin, but do you know what happens when a bomb is dropped? I have experienced it, I know it. Between the smoke and dust of the debris, the orange dress of a doll with eyes made of blue beads slowly turns red. The owner of the doll had just been smiling. Just now, her body was still intact. It was yet not deprived of meaning and truth and torn to shreds. Just now no mother had lost her child, my heart had not turned to hell yet, the woman had not torn her dress in pain yet. All this happened after the bomb was dropped. After a barrel-heavy projectile wiped out a 23-kilogram child. After humanity committed suicide.

One can wait for a stone to awake from a deep sleep. Maybe stones even dream, who knows? We are waiting. We have been waiting for hours for the civilian people to be recovered from the rubble of buildings hit by the Turkish bombs. The Turkish occupiers' fighter. jets not only indiscriminately kill children, women and the elderly, they also attack the emergency teams that want to recover the injured. Afrin experiences the last day caused by a monster. For this monster, horror is normality. What happens here is not a war. Hundreds of people have been killed in Afrin, but not one has been hit by a nearby bullet. All were victims of long-range artillery shells or dropped bombs. Here is no war, here is only the baseness of the Turkish army. Here is the cowardice of a vast army. Here is a sinful world that watches death.

And we were born as people of this country. The occupiers are not our siblings. We cannot have barbarians as siblings, we grew up believing that ethics is a high value. We believed in the truth, so liars cannot be our siblings. Even among enemies there are manners. Our enemy does not have that even.