I am…Not Hungry

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by Susan Ahmad

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am a boy not yet 10, my name is Ahmad Abdullah and I’d like to be called ‘Aby Humaid’. I am proudly syrian, my father is from Pale Aleppo and my mother is from beautiful Ghouta. But the syrian regime has left me and my brothers orphans.

I am the eldest boy to two brothers and four sisters some older and some younger, I have began to grow accustomed to the tile ‘Orphan’. I wasn’t born one but the murderers arrested my father three years ago and after that we found out that he had gone to heaven. Maybe he did not like earth after witnessing so much torture and cruelty. And so they made my mother suffer and my siblings starve, they gave us the name ‘Orphans’.

Don’t think I’ young, I’m a lot older than a lot of men, it’s true that I can’t go to school to continue my education, but I have risen my family from the humiliation of begging and I have protected them from starvation. With my small hands I work every dat with my brother in a sweatshop for burning plastic where we extract Mazot and Benzene.

I toil and burn my fingers when I work from morning to night, so I could get payed for a day’s labor which is around half a dollar, don’t feel sorry for me, half a dollar has helped me buy a Kilo of flower  made of starch which my mother makes into bread and feeds me and my siblings.

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