by Jeff Goode
copyright © 2003
(A SUICIDE BOMBER is wiring herself with explosives. She speaks directly to the audience, but rarely looks at them.)
SUICIDE BOMBERI don't want to talk about it.
I think you were busy that day.
Watching your Super Bowl.
Or your precious space shuttle.
And after that, it was too late.
By the time I was old enough to walk, I had already lost my father and two of my brothers. Also our house. But so did most of the village.
I asked my mother "Why? Why is this happening?"
The answer she gave me, I did not want to believe.
But by the time I was fifteen, 100,000 of my countrymen were dead. Killed with weapons you provided to terrorists who were working for you and against whoever your enemy was that year.
I don't remember who.
Now your enemy is your friend and your terrorists are your enemy. And you are giving new guns to other terrorists. And those are the ones that killed my Uncle, who raised me after my mother stepped on a land mine.
Again I asked "Why?" And again and again I heard the same answers.
So I burned your flag.
That's when you noticed me.
But now it is too late. I don't need your attention.
I already have my answers.
And you think it matters if you bomb my village again?
It shows how little you understand.
I have no property.
I have no automobiles and video games.
But now I have a daughter.
And I see that she is going to learn to walk
in a world full of landmines.
And this cycle of violence
that you started
And you continue.
While we can only sit here and die.
That is what you don't seem to "get".
And I have no money to make you listen.
But maybe if I bomb your village you will start to understand.
And then we can talk.
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