Jumaa Hussein Abdul Qader, a three-year-old boy from Afrin city, was wounded by Turkish shelling while his family tried to flee near Raju district during the Turkish military campaign. He moved from the rest of his family alive in bombing to the city of Aleppo after a long journey and they are now living in neighborhood of Sheikh Maksoud in difficult circumstances.
Jumaa’s mother asked about the guilt of her child and the guilt of the rest of the family who were killed in the bombing of the minibus that was carrying them, killing 4 out of 21 passengers, all civilians, as a result of being hit by a missile.
In March 2018, when the Turkish bombardment in Afrin areas intensified, 21 people took a minibus and left village of Ashunah in area of Bulbul towards Afrin walking dirt roads through the village of Barbanna to Raju. Their bus was targeted by a drone near the village school with its passengers turned into a mass of fire.
Only 4 of 21 people managed to survive, including the young child Juma, who lost his sight, despite his treatment for treatment in the area of Al Shahba in Aleppo countryside, but conditions of movement and shelling did not give doctors opportunity to complete the treatment in addition to the lack of specialized devices for the severity of injury and serious damage to the face.
“I know them individually. All the passengers and the driver are also the people of my region … I was in the hospital when they were treated …” and that ” car itself passed from This road twice the same day and the third time an unmanned aerial vehicle dropped a shell that exploded on the left of the road … This was the only route from Raju to Afrin … “
My uncle …….. my uncleeee
– where are you father
A voice came after eight months of the occupation, so his father wrote. A small child hugging my feet in the streets of Ashrafieh district of Aleppo, only the survivors of the massacres are sincere, three years of Omar Juma Abdul Qadir enough to interfere in child’s awareness of human ugliness and greed, fearing darkness and stumbling in my legs with all innocence and spontaneity, looking for his lost father behind the doors In search of himself and his family and the dignity of a homeland that bears in his memory all bloody tragedies, on the day of my father, but on the pages of the agony, inferiority of men in wars and beyond.
