Station 7

The artist's comment

Against the background of a drab dark wall a brightly-painted poster clamors out publicity about basketball champs with faces aglow and athletic builds. All this is only a brightly-colored dream for the child in the foreground: he has had a leg blown off by a landmine.

His eyes cannot manage to see life with any semblance of serenity, his lips cannot allow him even the merest smile; the only thing he can manage to do is raise his arms to heaven. It is a childlike gesture expressing an abandoned dream, like a balloon which has slipped through his hands and is floating away in the sky. But this same gesture is also the orante, the traditional posture of prayer.

In northern Uganda I asked why there seemed to be so many children amputees missing one or both legs or hands. The answer came in a word: landmines. The rebel terrorists who arm themselves in Sudan return to plant mines in their own villages, on pathways, roads and bridges. Whatever the location, the intention is the same: to intimidate.

The International Committee of the Red Cross in Geneva estimates that more than two million mines were laid last year. Only 100,000 were cleared. Every month two thousand civilians are killed or maimed by mines, about 40 % of them children under the age of 15.

Cambodia has more mines than children—two for every child. Children are particularly vulnerable to mines because they are closer to the center of the blast and because of their curiosity and love of play. During conflicts they have been trapped indoors or underground. “As soon as the fighting is over,” explains a Unicef officer, “they are desperate to get out and have a look around. All they want to do is to breathe in the fresh air, to run and play and live a normal life again. Try telling them they can’t do that.”

Mines, with their different shapes and colors, are enticing. Kurdish children look for mine parts to build toy cars. The tiny “butterfly mines,” designed to deliver a small blast that will only blow away a hand or a foot, are often dropped from the air. Children in some places call them “green parrots.”

The physical wounds inflicted by mines are all too obvious; the psychological ones are less so. Children who grow up in a minefield often suffer depression, weight loss, inability to concentrate, sleeping difficulties, hyperactivity, and failure to thrive. Then there is the terrible prospect of those who will grow up to perpetuate the violence they have experienced. (www.oneworld.org)

We give voice to the prayer of children stricken by landmines

Psalm 57

Have mercy on me, God, have mercy for in you my soul has taken refuge. In the shadow of your wings I take refuge until the storms of destruction pass by. I call to God the Most High. May he shame those who assail me. May God send his truth and his love. My soul lies down among lions, who would devour the children of men. Their teeth are spears and arrows, their tongue a sharpened sword. They laid a snare for my steps, my soul is bowed down. They dug a pit in my path. . . . O God, arise above the heavens; may your glory shine on earth!