Mama… Why Are They Killing Us?

Mama (Amina):Darling Sarah… what are you doing with that last little piece of paper? I told you we have no pencils or books left.

Sarah:But Mama… can’t we go outside and buy new ones?

Mama:No, my love. Outside is not safe. People are being killed every day because of the war.

Sarah:Mama… what is war? And why do we have it?

Mama:

(kneels beside her)

War is when people forget they are human.

When guns speak louder than hearts.

When kindness disappears from the world.

Sarah:Will people become human again, Mama?

Mama:

(voice trembling)

I don’t know, my child… I pray they will.

Sarah:

(holding her drawing)

Mama, look… I drew you, me, and Papa. When Papa comes back, I’ll give this to him.

Mama:

(tears in her eyes)

He will be so proud, my angel.

A violent explosion shakes their Sudanese home.

Sarah:Mama! I’m scared!

Mama:Stay behind me, Sarah. Don’t move.

Armed men storm in — cruel, shouting, merciless.

Soldier:You! Woman! Come here!

Mama:Please! My daughter is here! Please don’t hurt her!

They drag her away.

Sarah:MAMA! Don’t take her! Please!

Mama (crying):

Sarah, don’t look! Close your eyes! I love you—

Her screams fade into pain and violence.

Moments later, the men return.

Soldier:Finish the girl too.

Sarah:Mama…? Where are you? Mama…?

She runs toward the doorway, holding the drawing to her chest.

A gunshot.

The bullet first tears through the drawing — breaking the picture of her family — then pierces her tiny body.

Sarah falls beside the place where her mother died moments earlier.

The wind gently lifts the drawing from her hand.

On the back, written in her innocent handwriting:

“Welcome back, Dad. I missed you.”

And both mother and child lie still — victims of a war that never asked their names.

My dearest World Pulse readers,

My heart is burning watching the suffering of Sudanese women — a war that has continued for two long, unbearable years. Women have lost their safety, their dignity, their families, and even their voices.

They burned the dreams.

They destroyed the houses.

They took away the happiness.

They broke the homes of once-happy families.

At what cost? Why?

I am asking all of you — please share your thoughts.

This story is also a small token of gratitude to Miss Nadra Almahadi, who has been fighting relentlessly for the rights and safety of Sudanese women, helping thousands survive, sustain, and stand strong. Her dedication and achievements are remarkable in this painful struggle.

Regards

Vineela Devi