My name is Bilal Encü
My name is Bilal Encü
My name is Bilal Encü
I was one of the 34 people in that pitch-black night.
Holding the leashes of our donkeys, with dreams in our minds, we were walking to the heart of darkness
I am not a statistic, I am a 'human being'! And I have a story too
My name is Bilal Encü;
I was the eldest of seven siblings, the darling of his parents and the hope of the family
I was the eye of a blind father. My father didn't need a walking stick because I was there
I loved reading but I didn't like school very much. The single reason binding me to the school was my hope to be a doctor and to find a light to my father's blind eyes
It is a necessity to enjoy football in the village of Roboski where there is no other kind of sports you can do. We used to play in the same team with my friend Celal. Our compatible playing would generally result in victory
I also used to love watering the saplings I had planted in the garden of our house They wouldn't drink water unless I watered them. A refreshing wind would stroke my face when we saw each other with them
I used to tell them about my dreams, my grief for the blindness of my father, my plans to leave Roboski and to start a university in another place, my intentions to be a doctor and so forth
I was one of the 34 people in that pitch-black night. Holding the leashes of our donkeys, with dreams in our minds, we were walking to the heart of darkness .
Adem and Hamza were going after the money needed for the marriage of their children, Hüsnü after food for his baby to be born eight years after his marriage and I after the hope to be the light of my father's blind eyes
On the way, I was carrying poverty in one of the saddlebags of my donkey, and hope in the other one. My burden was quite heavy My getting back home was each time expected with worry by my parents; my father praying for me and my mother waiting in front of the window, her face leaned on the glass until I returned
I didn't come back that night! I heard a voice tearing the night. My eyes were nailed on the sky! I saw the tears of a mother running down in front of the window, a father running for miles, and lowly saplings
Neither me nor my hope exist now!
Adem, Hamza, Hüsnü do not exist now; everybody fell into hundreds of pieces that night, together with their dreams,; bitter bombs were dropped on Roboski
I am Bilal Encü, 16 year-old. I am the hope of a family, the sorrowful end of a difficult life
They didn't let me say "If only I didn't die awhile", shall be written on my gravestone
Despite the risk of annoying you, I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didn’t kill the justice too…
Doesn’t everyone have the right to justice?
Or,
Should I apologize to the state because it has warted those huge, expensive bombs for killing me,
Should I thank the General Staff for not missing the target and for killing me!?
* Platform for Justice for Roboski publishes the life story of 34 people from the villages of Roboski and Gülyazý who were killed by bombs on 28 December, 2011. These stories which will be published for 34 days are also sent to the offices of President, Prime Minister, Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Internal Affairs via fax and mail.
http://roboskiicinadalet.wordpress.com/
**Stories were written on the basis of true information about the villagers murdered in the bombing.
I was one of the 34 people in that pitch-black night.
Holding the leashes of our donkeys, with dreams in our minds, we were walking to the heart of darkness
I am not a statistic, I am a 'human being'! And I have a story too
My name is Bilal Encü;
I was the eldest of seven siblings, the darling of his parents and the hope of the family
I was the eye of a blind father. My father didn't need a walking stick because I was there
I loved reading but I didn't like school very much. The single reason binding me to the school was my hope to be a doctor and to find a light to my father's blind eyes
It is a necessity to enjoy football in the village of Roboski where there is no other kind of sports you can do. We used to play in the same team with my friend Celal. Our compatible playing would generally result in victory
I also used to love watering the saplings I had planted in the garden of our house They wouldn't drink water unless I watered them. A refreshing wind would stroke my face when we saw each other with them
I used to tell them about my dreams, my grief for the blindness of my father, my plans to leave Roboski and to start a university in another place, my intentions to be a doctor and so forth
I was one of the 34 people in that pitch-black night. Holding the leashes of our donkeys, with dreams in our minds, we were walking to the heart of darkness .
Adem and Hamza were going after the money needed for the marriage of their children, Hüsnü after food for his baby to be born eight years after his marriage and I after the hope to be the light of my father's blind eyes
On the way, I was carrying poverty in one of the saddlebags of my donkey, and hope in the other one. My burden was quite heavy My getting back home was each time expected with worry by my parents; my father praying for me and my mother waiting in front of the window, her face leaned on the glass until I returned
I didn't come back that night! I heard a voice tearing the night. My eyes were nailed on the sky! I saw the tears of a mother running down in front of the window, a father running for miles, and lowly saplings
Neither me nor my hope exist now!
Adem, Hamza, Hüsnü do not exist now; everybody fell into hundreds of pieces that night, together with their dreams,; bitter bombs were dropped on Roboski
I am Bilal Encü, 16 year-old. I am the hope of a family, the sorrowful end of a difficult life
They didn't let me say "If only I didn't die awhile", shall be written on my gravestone
Despite the risk of annoying you, I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didn’t kill the justice too…
Doesn’t everyone have the right to justice?
Or,
Should I apologize to the state because it has warted those huge, expensive bombs for killing me,
Should I thank the General Staff for not missing the target and for killing me!?
* Platform for Justice for Roboski publishes the life story of 34 people from the villages of Roboski and Gülyazý who were killed by bombs on 28 December, 2011. These stories which will be published for 34 days are also sent to the offices of President, Prime Minister, Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Internal Affairs via fax and mail.
http://roboskiicinadalet.wordpress.com/
**Stories were written on the basis of true information about the villagers murdered in the bombing.
