Author's note: I wrote this piece because I feel as if the issues overseas aren't being understood enough, and... Show full author's note »
Life As UsualThe crowd was loud, chanting over and over with words I didn’t yet understand. The warm sun beat down on my face as I looked at the people surrounding me and my father as we walked further down the street. The signs people were holding up showed pictures of president Gaddafi which said things like freedom, and democracy, and other things that were still unknown to me. I tried to make sense of it all as I slouched lower on my fathers shoulders. I smiled as I saw some of my fathers friends further up in the crowd, the whole town had taken part, or so it seemed. The feeling of exhilaration was contagious, as if radiating from the crowds. I smiled as we walked on through the streets, conveying our message, whatever it may be.
“Dad? Why were so many people out there with us?” I asked as I passed him my bowl
“Because they all want Gaddafi to resign, and let us be free” He said calmly as he gently poured some warm soup into my bowl, before handing it back to me.
“Why? did he do something wrong?” I asked.
“No, it’s what he hasn’t done. He’s been in power for forty years and he hasn’t changed anything for the better, I guess some people feel it’s just time for a change, myself included.” He responded, giving it little thought, and taking a sparing sip of his soup.
“Oh...” I said, trying not to sound too confused.
“Think of it this way, If I were to restrict what you do, where you go, and how you act for forty years, and not do anything for you in return , would you be annoyed?” He said, clearly seeing my confusion.
“I guess... but you already do that now, it wouldn’t be that bad.” I retorted.
“Yes, well you are just a little young to be making your own decisions, someone has to watch over you, and I’d rather it be me than that god-for-saken president of ours.” He said confidently. My father always did have a way of making me understand. I began eating the last remaining pieces in the soup my father had made, and we raced to see who could finish the broth first, and I won.
“It’s getting kind of late, you should probably go to bed” My father said, giving me a look.
“But I don’t want to...” I said with a yawn.
“C’mon little buddy” He said, picking me up and walking into my room.
“Hey father?” I said, trying to get his attention as he laid me down on my bed. “What will the president do to you if he finds out what your doing?” I asked
“I’m not sure, but he can’t get us all in trouble” he said as he tucked me in and closed the door.