Nine years old Saleh Khalaf from Iraq was running home from school,
together with his sixteen years old brother Dia, on the 8th of October
2003.
Seven months had gone since the US troops had invaded his country in “Operation Iraqi Freedom”. Things hadn’t settled yet, although life was bettering.
About four kilometers from school, Saleh stopped. He’d seen something in an edge of ditch. A khaki-colored ball, small and shiny. He bowed down, and picked it up.
One of his school friends screamed and began to run. Saleh understood what he was holding in his hand. Tears began flowing down his innocent cheeks.
Dia came running to aid him, but when he was three steps away, the explosion roared wildly in the air. Small Saleh was in the middle of it.
In a miraculous way Saleh survived, however he had lost both his hands, one eye and his stomach had burst open. The path back to life would be both long and painful.
Seven months had gone since the US troops had invaded his country in “Operation Iraqi Freedom”. Things hadn’t settled yet, although life was bettering.
About four kilometers from school, Saleh stopped. He’d seen something in an edge of ditch. A khaki-colored ball, small and shiny. He bowed down, and picked it up.
One of his school friends screamed and began to run. Saleh understood what he was holding in his hand. Tears began flowing down his innocent cheeks.
Dia came running to aid him, but when he was three steps away, the explosion roared wildly in the air. Small Saleh was in the middle of it.
In a miraculous way Saleh survived, however he had lost both his hands, one eye and his stomach had burst open. The path back to life would be both long and painful.
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