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By Root 908 0

of warm air hit my face. I got out of bed realizing there was only smoke and bright light where my bedroom window once was. I saw my mom running toward me screaming, but couldn’t hear her. All I heard was the ringing in my head. She grabbed me, shaking the ringing from my ear. I heard the turmoil in my neighborhood. She carried me outside, my feet were bleeding from stepping on broken glass blown from my window. The firemen told my father that out of twenty sticks of dynamite, ten exploded. If all had ignited, my house would have exploded also. I realized the magnitude of what was happening, and was glad to be moving to the U.S.

My first day of school in the United States was very hard. I didn’t understand any English words. Everything was so different. I had had some English classes in Peru, but nothing like this. Everybody spoke so fast, their words were hard to follow. Everything sounded like Rs and Ss. I couldn’t talk, read, or write English. The third day of school, some Mexican guys spoke to me. We talked, played, and they taught me English.

Like my first years in the U.S., Tony didn’t understand English. My only way to communicate was to play with him. It lifted my spirit to see his joy despite his tragic story. Though it hurt him to smile, he laughed anyway. Though he couldn’t understand a word we were saying, he understood that we felt his pain. We too knew what it felt like to live amid war.

When Zlata wrote about Bosnian children becoming the “soldiers” and the soldiers becoming “children,” at first I didn’t get her meaning. After hearing Tony’s story, I understood. In war the innocence of a child is lost, and though the soldiers feel theirs is a worthy cause, they behave like children when trying to achieve their goals. Knowing that a grown man entered a child’s bedroom stealing his innocence, makes me sad. They stole his smile. Tony wears the permanent scars of war on his face, just as I wear the scars on my soul.

Diary 49

Dear Diary,

I am so exhausted from yesterday! We got to spend a whole day with Zlata and Mirna. Our marathon day started at 7 A.M. and I didn’t get home until 10 P.M. last night. Or was it 11 P.M.? Even though I’m exhausted, I can’t wait to spend another day with them!

Our day began with a breakfast by the “Dream Team Moms.” These are the dedicated moms who have adopted our class as their kids. After we had breakfast we left in buses to Los Angeles. It was my first time in a charter bus. The buses were air-conditioned, had televisions, a VCR, and lights that we could turn on and off at our seats! Plus a bathroom!! A big difference from school buses!

Soon we got to the Museum of Tolerance, our first stop. For many, it was their first time there, but this was my second time. During our freshman year we went straight to the museum’s theater to watch Higher Learning. This time we had a private tour of the museum.

The museum focuses on stereotypes, prejudice, genocide, the history of intolerance. There were comic strips to show us some examples of how people are misjudged and how our negative thoughts can lead to violence. Plus there was a section of worn out shoes each representing a victim of the Holocaust.

During the tour, I received a passport with a child’s face and name. Throughout the museum you get to find out what happens to them. Each room I went into, I would slip my passport into a computer and it would tell me the fate of the child. Some of my friends had passports where the child died. Many of us cried during the tour.

After we came out of the museum, the ground was wet from the rain. It seems like the rain was a symbol of tears from those who had died. As though they were crying out their tears of sorrows and stories to us.

After the tour, we went to Lawry’s “The House of Prime Ribs” for lunch. It is located in Beverly Hills. I was afraid to touch anything because I might break something. The dining tables had a candle with fresh flowers and the napkins folded in the fanciest way. The seats were made of real leather, they weren’t sticky or smelly like some restaurants