My name is Cemal Encü
My name is Cemal Encü
My name is Cemal Encü
I am not a statistic, I am a human being! And I have a story too
My name is Cemal Encü;
I was born in a cold night of the year 1994.
I would be 18 this year if you hadnt murdered me.
All my hopes for the future remained written on the desks of my high school. However, I was going to take the university examination, pass it and be a teacher afterwards. I was walking on foot for miles to make my dream real.
As in the open, we dont have a job that pays us money enough to maintain the life of a nine-member family.
I was therefore involved in border trade, to earn money for my family and my school expenses.
This was the second time I was going to smuggling. I had a great difficulty in the first time but when my father asked me how it was, I answered that it was good, fearing that they would otherwise not allow me to do it again. I went the whole way on my donkey in the first time. I was too thin to exhaust it.
We made an agreement with Þerafettin that day. We were going to go to the border and I was going to pay my debt to the school canteen after returning from there.
My mother who normally cannot walk for even a mile run for four miles when she heard the sounds of the bombs that day. She came to me, running on that muddy way. She sank to her knees when she saw my body which had been pulled into pieces by huge and heavy bombs of the state. My father has been lost in thought since that day, my siblings awaiting my return.
As if I had felt that I was going to die, that day I wrote 2012 on my school desk as the year of my death. I missed the date by a narrow margin, I beg your pardon
Despite the risk of annoying you, I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didnt kill the justice too
Doesnt 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 am not a statistic, I am a human being! And I have a story too
My name is Cemal Encü;
I was born in a cold night of the year 1994.
I would be 18 this year if you hadnt murdered me.
All my hopes for the future remained written on the desks of my high school. However, I was going to take the university examination, pass it and be a teacher afterwards. I was walking on foot for miles to make my dream real.
As in the open, we dont have a job that pays us money enough to maintain the life of a nine-member family.
I was therefore involved in border trade, to earn money for my family and my school expenses.
This was the second time I was going to smuggling. I had a great difficulty in the first time but when my father asked me how it was, I answered that it was good, fearing that they would otherwise not allow me to do it again. I went the whole way on my donkey in the first time. I was too thin to exhaust it.
We made an agreement with Þerafettin that day. We were going to go to the border and I was going to pay my debt to the school canteen after returning from there.
My mother who normally cannot walk for even a mile run for four miles when she heard the sounds of the bombs that day. She came to me, running on that muddy way. She sank to her knees when she saw my body which had been pulled into pieces by huge and heavy bombs of the state. My father has been lost in thought since that day, my siblings awaiting my return.
As if I had felt that I was going to die, that day I wrote 2012 on my school desk as the year of my death. I missed the date by a narrow margin, I beg your pardon
Despite the risk of annoying you, I have several words to say;
I demand justice,
If the bombs that killed me didnt kill the justice too
Doesnt 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.
