XHABIR DERALLA

Can you imagine going out by yourself for a recreation, to the top of the hill, near your city or village, and in the meanwhile forgetting to take a bottle of water with you?

You’ve walked for half an hour already among the trees, you’ve taken several selfies in nature, you’ve shared them on Instagram and you want to reward yourself with a sip of water. You don’t have the bottle of water! Oh no! You forgot it at home, when you were changing your hiking shoes, because these were more comfortable. The air distance to the top is about 300-400 more meters, but you probably have at least half an hour more of climbing. Problem!

Was there any stream on the trail? How will you survive another half an hour without water, while you’re climbing the steep trail? Will there be anyone with a stand for you to buy water once you get up there? Is it better to go back home? These and many more questions and uneasiness are spinning around in your head. Very uncomfortable. Indeed.

*

Now imagine that you are six years old. A girl, trapped in the remains of her own home.

Bombs are falling around; the ground is shaking. Shootings are also heard. Cries.

You see your mother. She is not moving. You nudge her, you talk to her. Hours go by. Your mother is not moving. Your mother is dead.

With time you get used to the hunger and the motionless body next to you. You cannot get out, the walls are slanted, the door is blocked.

You cry. You fall asleep in tears. You wake up. Hungry. You also want some water.

With every passing minute, you increasingly more want water. You are swallowing your own saliva. You are looking for water throughout your mouth, until your lips, mouth and throat dry up so much that it hurts even when you are breathing.

You start having a headache. You can no longer move because of the strong cramps in your legs and hands.

You are only six years old, you don’t know that those are signs of dehydration.

You complain to your mother again. She is silent. She is cold. A strong smell comes from her body. You are mad at her; you tell her that you are thirsty. She is silent. Tears are tightening your throat. You are thirsty. You’ve never been so thirsty. It’s unclear to you. Everything is unclear to you.

It’s winter. It’s cold.

You are getting even more cold because of the thirst. You cry again, but you can’t hear your voice, because you are almost deaf from the explosions. You have no tears. Yet you are crying.

Your head feels blurry. Everything hurts and you are very cold. You are drowning.

After some time, you don’t know after how much, you open your eyes.

Your mother comes out of the bathroom, she is wiping her wet hair with a snowy white towel. She is smiling to you. She brings you a glass of water. You reach for the glass with your little hand, but you are very tired. The glass is at your reach, but you can’t touch it. Your mother is touching you on the cheek with her other hand. You close your eyes.

You are dying.

You are six years old. You died of thirst, next to your dead mother, buried in the ruins of your own home. Alone. Accompanied with the sounds of the explosions of the Russian missiles and bombs. Alone and thirsty, in Ukraine, March, 2022.

P.S. Dedicated to little Tanya from Mariupol, Ukraine

Translation: N. Cvetkovska