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A letter to the international community on Syria

no picture Student and UNICEF volunteer
Virginia Barchiesi
Member since February 5, 2017
  • 10 Posts
  • Age 15


In March 2018 in Adra in eastern Ghouta, a one-month-old baby, her mother, and grandfather arrive at a shelter. 
© UNICEF/UN0187717/Sanadiki

In March 2018 in Adra in eastern Ghouta, a one-month-old baby, her mother, and grandfather arrive at a shelter. © UNICEF/UN0187717/Sanadiki

Excellencies, Presidents, Leaders,

When, in the early morning, in a mist of cloudy weather, you enter your office, sit down and start working, what do you hear, what do you smell? Human voices, the perfume of freshly made coffee, sun rays shining a light on your working table?

After having worked long hours you return home and in your bedroom, in the silence of the night, you can sleep knowing that the following day you’ll get up again, in a mist of cloudy weather.

Solving wars, finding impossible solutions, achieving equality, relieving the plight of millions is your everyday task and we all agree the challenges related to these goals; we all understand that not all can be solved in few years; we feel sympathy for the major difficulties you encounter.

But what if, one night, just one, you’d decide to stay up and think?

To think about the life of millions of Syrians, trapped in a never-ending war, a never-ending fight for life. Imagine you were among these people, what would you do? What would you want?

You’d want to get up knowing you are not going to fear bombs anymore, because the Syrian skies are finally free from airstrikes, free to be normal blue skies.

You’d want to know you are going to eat today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.

You’d want to walk in the streets, breathing clean air and living.

You’d want a life to be lived in dignity and with rights.

Tonight, just tonight, don’t go to sleep. Imagine you were in Ghouta, trapped in Ghouta, and your children were praying God to give them the gift of one more day of life, the gift of a calm death without suffering. Imagine you had lost your children and, hopeless, you were walking the streets shouting at airstrikes “I don’t fear you”. At this time, you would cease to be alive, you would be a ghost residing in Ghouta, waiting for your besieged country to be freed from the inhuman plight that is war.

And tomorrow morning it will be much easier to put all your efforts at the service of peace.

You have to find solutions for Syria and its people, the world is watching and waiting for you to sit down and finally negotiate a durable peace for our brothers and sisters.

Please have faith, be compassionate, and sympathetic.

We are counting on you,

Best regards,

Virginia





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