To live amidst armed conflict is no life cliche'. Just a few weeks ago, I saw that people who have lived amidst violent political struggles for so many generations, like most humans, never get used to violence.
Group A of the two warring groups in my adopted hometown, or more precise to say the town that adopted me, almost opened fire against suspected enemies Group B. Occasional firing had been going on outside the residential areas since mid morning of that day. But in the afternoon, Group A sent grade and highschool students and teachers either running towards their homes or hiding inside school buildings when the group announced that suspected Group B members are inside the community.
I saw the kids crying like they wanted to go back into their mothers' womb, parents scrambling for their children. People, faces in deceivingly quiet panic, in nervous calmness shut close nipa windows.
Open fire inside the community did not happen that day. The municipal police chief told Group A that the latter just mistook some community residents for Group B members. Not surprising since they also mistook the police chief, who walking to his house from his farm somewhere in the mountains, as a Group B member shortly before police chief slid into his uniform.
What could have happened if Group A was right and they opened fire at Group B within the community? What could have happened if group A was wrong and still opened fire?
As always, between warring groups, the civilians in the middle always bear the unjust burden of running/hiding for their lives.
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The flower in the picture was a witness.
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