The Hunger that Eats Our Land: A Tigrayan Voice Cries Out
The fields that once sang with the laughter of children, and agricultural sufficiency, now lie silent, choked by the dust of war and despair.
This is not just hunger, it’s a demon gnawing at our bellies, a darkness that steals the light from our eyes. We, the sons and daughters of Tigray, stand on the precipice of famine, a man-made abyss carved by callous hands.
They call it a conflict, a mere scuffle in the grand game of nations. But we know better. This is genocide, a weapon wielded against our very existence. They stole our harvest, burned our barns, and turned our granaries into tombs of hope. They severed the veins that fed our land, leaving us gasping for the breath of life.
Our children now dim with hunger. Their laughter, once a symphony, is reduced to whimpers, their bodies fragile as withered leaves. Mothers clutch their bellies, their eyes hollow with a grief that no lullaby can soothe.
This famine is a scar etched not just on our bodies, but on our souls. Our livelihoods lie in ashes, our dreams turned to dust. We walk through the ruins of our homes, ghosts in a land of ghosts, haunted by the memories of what was and the fear of what might be.
But even in the face of this darkness, the spirit of Tigray burns bright. We are weavers of resilience, singers of defiance. We dig in the parched earth with calloused hands, seeking sustenance where none exists. We share the last morsel, the last drop of water, a testament to our unbreakable bond.
The world must hear our cry, not as victims, but as warriors against injustice. We need not just food, but the right to rebuild, to till our land, to sing our songs once more. We need the world to bear witness to the truth, to stand with us against the tide of tyranny.
This famine is not our fate, it is a challenge. We, the people of Tigray, will rise again, stronger than before. We will reclaim our fields, rebuild our homes, and nurture a future where our children can laugh without fear. But we cannot do it alone. The world must stand with us, not just with aid, but with action, with a voice that echoes our cry and demands justice for the land that bleeds.
So, let the world hear the voice of Tigray, a voice that refuses to be silenced, a voice that sings of hope even in the face of despair. Let them know that we will not be broken, we will not be starved into submission. We will rise, we will rebuild, and we will never forget.
This is our story, etched in hunger, but written with the ink of resilience. This is Tigray, bleeding but unbowed, and our voices will rise above the dust until the world hears our cry.
Batseba Seifu, MPA in Public and International Non-Profit Management, B.A. in Law and Justice