A Source of Desolation

There was once a village, where all was peace and joy. Men worked the fields while women tended to the comfort of others. Young boys could be seen running around with sticks on their shoulders and shouting with elation when one from the opposed army was “hit”. The ever-lasting battle would go on until one was called out to dinner or to help on the fields or in the house. When the weather changed and it was too cold to go outdoors, people celebrated and sat around a fire, laughing and telling stories. In such lively conditions, time went by quickly and in no time the birds were chirping once again. The boys, with more experience could come out and bask in the warmth and beauty of spring.

This little village, had nothing special. Although it was common, it wasn’t like many other areas where people tended to be ruthless. Here everything was in harmony, man and nature formed an intimate bond each helping the other to survive. The fields all around with an occasional tree or lake gave the area a comfortable air, where a tremendous variety of different animals, from wild to domestic, were in ecstasy. A family of deer would often prance through the barely lit fields with an air of extravagant pride. A boy would often stare in wonder at such a sight and through his young eyes he would catch a glimpse of real beauty and be happy without knowing why. A river ran through the village and children spent day after day playing around in its crystal clear water. It was an important source of water for the village, and however hot and arid the weather could be there was always more water than needed. One could think that nothing could destroy such perfection.

It was in the middle of a bitter winter, when an imposing man with a stern expression came to the village riding a dark horse. Attached to his rich costume was a glinting sword which, through its splendor hid its true side. This soldier told the men that they had to fight for the army and that a war was under way very near their precious village. Therefore members of the army were to be positioned in the village and defenses were to be made. During the whole winter canons could be heard in the distance and many men would come back injured. Children were kept inside. The dark winter never seemed to stop and when there was a day where the constant thunder of shots ceased and silence came back for some rare peaceful hours it only started again, intensified. When finally all was over and the few men who had survived came back to their homes, they came back to a place that would never be the same.

The children never again seemed as jovial as they once were. The women many of whom had lost their husbands now had to work the fields and take care of the household. No shouts of euphoria could be heard, only an occasional sigh or stifled cry. No children ran in the streets and the occasional passer-by would slowly walk away with his head lowered looking at the now blood stained ground. The birds that could usually be heard in such silence were nowhere to be seen and the dear and other animals were all dead; used as food for the soldiers. The trees and the beautiful landscape full of ravishing colors disappeared. All was grey and monotonous. Trees had been cut down and fields razed, destrtoyed by the folly of men and their desire for power. As for the river, that was now full of corpses, it was no longer able to be used.

         This is not based on fact but it has happened and continues to happen. Hundreds of thousands have seen their houses and family destroyed by a war that was not theirs. War never resolves problems it only causes more. War is to desolation as Peace is to elation.