Tania Page is a correspondent, based in South Africa.
17-year-old Azar's mother never came back after saying she was going to the market [Alexander Ohrn]
The sound of children laughing and
singing rings out at the monastery in Bangui. They form human chains
that snake in circles. Each one comprises of a different age group.
They
are having fun - a rare feat in the midst of a conflict that has pitted
neighbour against neighbour. Save the Children tells me there are three
sessions a day. Each time over 200 children come to sing, play and talk
about what's on their mind and often what pains them.
One such child is Jordi. I ask him what he likes about the centre and silent tears trickle down his face.
"I
go to forget," he whispers. He watched Seleka fighters burst into his
home and shoot his parents in December. Neighbours brought the newly
orphaned 13-year-old from Kabo to the capital, 370km away. He stayed for
a while in an area called PK12 on the outskirts of the city and then,
when buses of people were transferred to the monastery he was swept
along with the crowds, and eventually found his way to the children's
centre. He's in foster care now as the ICRC tries to find his relatives.
In
the big camp of 60,000 people near the airport, 17-month-old Azar looks
completely lost. His mother said she was going to the market in
December and she never came back. She could have been killed, or she may
have abandoned him. A stranger cares for him now. He has a glazed look
in his eye and hasn't made a sound since.
They are just two
children among thousands who suffer needlessly in a conflict that is not
of their making, paying the price for some peoples' greed for power and
need to exert dominance over others in the most brutal fashion.
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