¡ Silent scream !

Almost 2 months have passed, where we have experienced several faucets of violence. Two months in a bath of alternating emotions, between hope and disappointment, meanwhile disappointment gains more and more weight. Not only are we shown the bloody news hour upon hour on every channel without filter, but we must live it live in our streets. While they commit all these cruelties mercilessly it seems that, in the heat of the battles, they have completely forgotten about the thousands of children that surround them. It really seems like they are not part of Nicaraguan society, and that nobody thinks about the harm that they cause in the fragile psyches of the more defenseless creatures. I can only speak about the changes in our 70 children, but I imagine that for everyone it is the same, if not worse:
When our children with their little faces play, roadblocks, I look at them with one eye crying and the other smiling. But when we ask them, what it is that they want to play and they reply in a chorus: “We want to play war,” I see it as an auxiliary cry of their repressed emotions. With much concern we have noticed some changes that have crept into the souls of our girls and boys. In general they are much more restless, unfocused and more aggressive than two months ago. Several children have lost a lot of weight, and our list to indicate who needs extra vitamins is getting longer each day. When they come in the mornings, I feel I’m back 5 years ago, because the majority of them ask for breakfast. When only two months ago, they made castles, parks, houses and animals out of lego, now they make pistols and rifles. Meanwhile many of them know better how mortars are made and what they are used for, then their mathematic tables. Where before they sang children’s songs, their voices bright and clear, today they cry out rhymes with all their pain. And the worst of all, girls and boys of 6, 7 and 8 years old that have never had problems with holding their bladders, wet themselves in broad daylight.
And when they come running in the middle of the night, knocking on my door, looking for a safe place, it almost breaks my heart. And when I see them sleep, deeply in all of their innocence, my soul melts. These are just a few small examples of the tip of the iceberg, which is called a Nicaraguan childhood that suffers in silence, while their screaming environment goes up in flames.

(Priska Buchmann Scherer)