September 30

Polished Visual Response: Fight for the Future

I had turned away from one second and before I knew it, my friend, Carl, was locked in position in front of a man holding a gun. I was stunned, unable to move a single muscle. The man was silent, no facial movement of any kind. The only movement present was the ball, bouncing from the wall, rolling the opposite way. There was no telling what anybody would do next. The man slowly turned his head, locking eyes to me. This could have been the end of both of us, having that feeling that we could not do anything to stop it. Slowly, the man raised up his firearm, and pointed it towards Carl.

There was a civil war going on, one disagreement, and turned the entire country into a wasteland. Many citizens fled the country to neighboring area where they can feel safe form the destruction going on; however, my family wanted to stay and fight to protect the country from the government. My family always said to never back down from a situation if you are able to do something to prevent it. Trying to avoid the situation shows that you are weak and a coward and should be felt with disgrace. At the time, I was too young to be holding a gun, to be fighting but, that did not stop my father from trying to teach me the ways of fighting. The war had lasted around a year and aid from other countries had been feeding the other side, the government, of supplies. My father was injured during the battle a couple of months ago and has not recovered since. It really was a miracle that he survived but, at the cost of his movement. I can remember when he had expressed that every time I went outside, it could be the last time I see him or the last time he would see me.

Blood was everywhere, and all I could do was watch, as Carl was laying down with blood gushing away from his chest. I watched as the life drained away from him, and I had no idea if I would be next, but I was stunned, I could not move nor did a sound come from me. All I could think about was me disappointing my father that I could have prevented this, or at least attempt to. Now, my best friend, was most likely dead. This was the moment I could at least do something, to save myself.

I noticed the ball a few feet away from me and, at that moment, I had an opportunity. The man looked like he was getting ready to fire at me but, before he could do it, I sprinted towards the ball, and – using all my energy – I kicked the ball, straight at the man, hoping to stun him or to give me a chance to escape.

The ball had struck him in the chest dead on, and he had dropped his gun. At that moment, I felt like I had a chance to live up to my father’s words. I kept sprinting, I looked at the gun that was on the ground, and I had a chance. I picked up the gun without hesitation and pulled the trigger towards the man.

I felt a sense of satisfaction in me; I had honored my father’s words, and stood up to no longer be in fear of the worst to come. However, I still failed, Carl, was dead behind me, and I knew, if I had not been frozen in place, I could have stopped it from happening. I can’t let this moment mourn over my life, I need to use this experience to further my life, to protect those I care about.

Category: Chris, Sept 2017 | 3 Comments on Polished Visual Response: Fight for the Future
September 29

Visual Response

During times of poverty and destruction, humans have always banded together to created societies and groups while rejecting others based on differences alone. In the picture, a person is standing guard keeping out anyone, especially the children playing in front of him. He needs to keep the less fortunate away from a wealthy and thriving society.

The guard holds a firearm resembling the Russian Ak-47 but it is only a clone. This person also wears green dress pants and black dress shoes-the same colours of military personnel. The man, which can be determined by the size and the hair on his arm, could have been a normal citizen but forced into military service. He also could have been part of a private military contracted to work there. A watch is also worn around his wrist which indicates that he is part of a society that has more money and has a large amount of disposable income. He also has his finger on the trigger, although this could be because of the lack of training around firearms due to his conscription into the military, but it could also symbolize that he is ready to use the gun against anyone at any given time.  There are children playing soccer in front of him but they are at a significant distance being fearful of the gun as well as interacting or passing the man.

The clear background indicates a difference between society. The man stands at an entrance of concrete barriers. On the side he is defending, the buildings stands tall without significant damage on the exterior. The surrounding fences and vegetation are undamaged too. On the other side of the barrier, there is a another building with no windows or doors, where walls have crumbled inward onto the only remaining structure, the foundation and support for the original building with no surrounding vegetation. This would also show that particular side does not have any money in order to pay for the repairs to the buildings as well as other infrastructure. This also translates to the children since they are playing a simple game in a devastated area,suggesting that the children live a life of poverty. The building was not decimated because of a natural disaster, but a side effect of a war; the man holding a gun would be evidence of such as there is no humanitarian aid in the photograph. The background was to provide a contrast between the different societies, one with habitable and comfortable living conditions and the other with war torn buildings not for for any human being to live in.

The most eye catching part of this photograph is the man with a gun in hand standing guard, keeping away any intruder including children. He does not want anyone who in inferior or any other group who  is deemed by the society as lesser peoples to invade and assimilate into a better, more affluent society. The constant readiness with his finger on the trigger shows his dedication to this cause is further exemplified with the gun in hand symbolizing that he is willing to use force and violence and create bloodshed.

In times of despair,it is very often that a society will find a scapegoat and label a group of people as lessers and inferiors, while convincing people to take radical action against that scapegoat. Humans will always fight against one another based on differences and cause war to breakout even when a city is in shambles with no hope in the future.

Category: Orion, Sept 2017 | LEAVE A COMMENT
September 28

Freedom By Zaha

With my finger on the trigger of my semi-automatic, I patrol the broken sheets where the children are the only sound of life left in this abandoned, bombed-out pile of concrete. I tread around the cement walls that surround the children, ensuring no one gets out. When I stand beyond the boundary, I see the kids laughing and kicking balls, escaping their concrete cell with dreams of being soccer stars. Ignoring their surroundings completely. Completely unaware that they are surrounded by large walls. Completely unaware that they are surrounded by the reality of war.

But once they see me, they stand stand straight, eyes down and walk further away from the boundary. Guilt is always gnawing away within me because I want to help them, I want them to be happy, I want to help the few children who are left. But I can’t; it is not my job. I am an Israeli soldier. The enemy of these Palestinian children. My job is to keep them within these boundaries. I love these children, but I love Israel more. 

I stare at them walking away. I can’t appear upset. I look up at the blue sky and tall green palm trees. Everything is so perfect when you look up; however, once you look down the perfection is gone. On my side of the boundary you see cars and buildings not destroyed, yet, by the war. I wish they could see the colourful buildings, the luxury cars, the unique clothing, and taste the exquisite food. 

The sound of kids laughing and balls being kicked around starts again. My presence affects the children. I peak around the boundary, mainly leaning against one of the walls. Staying out of sight. I see two kids playing soccer. The goalie hits the ball too hard and it rolls towards the boundary line. I quickly turn my back against the wall. I had no intention to ruin their fun. When the ball stops, right at the line, he picks it up looks up at the sky. Smiles. As he looks down our eyes meet. His smile disappears. His gaze lowers. I lower my gaze and my gun. Right when he turns to walk away I attempt to smile or even wave back, but I can’t. Being in the army has made me so cold-hearted I forgot how. 

 

Category: Sept 2017, Zaha | LEAVE A COMMENT
September 28

Visual Reflection: Blessed

 

 

 

Blessed

I pushed through the pain of the pebbles wedging themselves between my feet as I ran after the ball. Our playground was not as I had once remembered it to be. The same buildings that once shone brightly in the sunlight were now left as heaps of dirt and metal on the ground. The ones that still stood standing threatened to fall at any given second, the paint chipped everywhere. The only colour that was seen now was the blue of the sky and the green of the trees. Green. Our lives were constantly haunted by that one colour. Green.  A brick wall separated our side and the other. We were not allowed to ever cross our side of the wall and a guard stood there to ensure that this rule was always respected.

There standing by his usual patrol was the same man who had been there for the last three weeks. The same green uniform had been haunting us, restricting us from even having the freedom to breathe without fear. The same beady eyes, glaring at us from the distance, ensuring that we abide by all the restrictions forced upon us. His face did not seem to have the slightest amount of remorse for anyone. If he was forced to use his weapon to cause harm to an individual, be it a child, a woman, or a man, he would be willing to sacrifice anybody’s life in order to fulfil his duty of peacekeeping. That’s what they called it. Peacekeeping. When I asked what peacekeeping may my mother silenced me because I was too young to get involved with such matters the less I knew, the better. As I was looking, the man strode from his position, casually, carefully taking each step, his head held high and his gun positioned comfortably in his hands.

He made his way over to a man and started inquiring, nudging him with his gun. The man told him that he was getting food for his wife and his child. Not convinced, the officer accused him of stealing and dragged him away, begging and pleading. Just like that. He changed the life of three individuals without a second of hesitation. How can a man, who just destroyed the home of an innocent individual, be someone who is there to keep the peace?

I heard the piercing scream of a woman and her young child. The both begged and pleaded. Amongst the crying I heard something that came to me as a surprise. Laughter. From the other side I heard the laughter of children. The two sounds clashed between each other in my mind. While one individual took for granted the freedom offered to them, the other struggled and fought for their own. As I watched from a distance the soldier threw the man into the Jeep and drove away leaving just a broken family, shattered hoped and dreams, and a small cloud of dust. How can another man destroy someone’s family; how can someone commit such a crime and still be considered a human?

I felt the warm, salty tears dampen my face. Within my childhood I would have to experience such injustice taking place. These victims would experience such heinous acts on a daily basis, never to feel the air of freedom brushing against their cheeks, never to experience the light of a new day with the sun kissing their skins to thaw them from their frozen life. This was my normal.

While I laughed and smiled with my family, they were begging and pleading to be reunited with their own. I had the luxury to be able to go home everyday and be embraced within my mother’s arms, to be greeted with a warm smile from my father as he ruffled my hair. The materialistic things that I had wanted out of life did not seem to matter within this moment.

Experiencing such events had tainted my childhood and it would be a sight that I would never forget. The fact that many individuals were struggling to survive would always be something that would haunt me every night, every day, every moment that I lived a blessed life.

 

 

Category: Gurnoor, Sept 2017, Uncategorized | 8 Comments on Visual Reflection: Blessed
September 28

For beds, for food, let’s begin – Polished Visual

The sun’s slow descent towards night had begun, when I arrived at the rear gate of the compound. Seeing it never ceased to amaze me. Always such a stark contrast to the city scorched by the unanticipatable death that fell from the sky, at any moment you could be walking down the road, the next, what’s left of you is a smoking heap of ash. The rubble of a one great city only reaffirmed the thought. Once a home for thousands now fear looms above all. There was no true hope left here. There is nothing left but to survive.
It would be a long shift.
Two hours later I paced in the courtyard of luxury, in the yard of a richman who seemed to have evaded the destruction of the city. His house had not a speck of damage to it, thick, likely bulletproof windows guarded by thick metal bars and locks. It was like houses of the rich politicians before the war, large, well kept, and expensive. Jealousy had filled me every time I saw it, with thoughts of myself living in a house like this; but I gave up that dream. There is nothing left but to survive.
I hated my uniform, I was made to wear dress shoes, that my boss had given me,they were probably one of the most expensive thing I owned; I wanted to sell them but I would be out of uniform and I needed this job. There was nothing left but to survive.
I was torn from my thoughts by the sound of shouting. I ran to the gate, expecting to see a mob of angry starving survivors in this city come for the food that there tax had bought. What I saw stunned me in my tracks. Two kids were playing football just outside the compound, just kids. One ran across the pavement of a determination of a professional athlete dribbling towards the posts; the other stood at the posts, but his head wasn’t in the game. The advancing kid blasted the ball straight into the other’s face. I winced. The goalie doubled over. I glanced at my grandfather’s watch, and thought of the times we played together when I was a kid, a simpler time. If these kids can find joy in this wasteland, where bombs could fall at any moment, maybe there is still a place for hope here.

The Guard stood in shiny leather shoes, a fancy watch on his wrist in the gateway, the rewards for protecting the wealthy from the people they should be helping. He looked relaxed despite his finger resting on the trigger on his gun, and tired. It would be a long night shift.
The football slammed into my face doubling me over, and the guard winced. Good. He was watching. I picked myself up off the ground and brushed myself off, Paul was beaming, he knew I was deep in thought while faking focus. I glanced at the guard again, back to feigning indifference. Then I heard the cue and watched the guards boss rolled out of the compound in his car, it was a sharp contrast to its surroundings, white, clean, undamaged and expensive. There was nothing left but to survive.
As the car went out of sight and the guard relaxed, too much than he should have. I nodded to Paul. He kicked the ball over the fence. For beds, for food, let’s begin.

Category: Joel | 3 Comments on For beds, for food, let’s begin – Polished Visual
September 27

The Attack

Jan 2014 Visual Diagnostic (1)-p81j0l

My job was hard. It had many aspects to it. I had to fight, protest, and in some cases even kill. It was another usual day at work where I had a pile of assignments ready on my desk as I stepped into the office. Searching through the files, as I normally do, one caught my eye, spying on a young boy named Arjun. Many thoughts starting running through my head. Why would I need to be spying on a young boy who had just started to live life? Was he in trouble? Was he okay? I needed to find out before time runs out.

 

I finished the rest of my assignments as quickly as possible and reached the grounds where Arjun was playing soccer with an older man, his father. The scene looked normal at first, and that is when the young boy’s red shirt caught my attention. Red, the symbol of blood and signifying trouble. He wasn’t a normal boy, although he sure did seem like one. He looked happy, but what was bothering him?  Something needed to be done.

 

I continued to investigate the situation. Every evening the father and son played soccer at a site, a building which had been burned and crumpled to pieces. The roads were not in good condition either. Why would this be the placed they played? I thought to myself. Is there no field close to their home? Did they even have a home?

 

As time went on, I started to finally put the bits and pieces together. Arjun was adopted. His father was born and brought up in India, he was not a believer in adoption. His mother always wanted a child, but it was impossible for her since she did not have the ability to give birth. That is when she decided she wanted to adopt a child. Soon after the adoption, she had passed away due to an illness. Every evening, the father and son played soccer. By playing soccer, he began to gain the trust of Arjun. His father was planning an attack. I needed to protect him.

 

The day had finally come. It was another evening where Arjun and his father came to play soccer. As soon as they were done playing a round or two, I saw Arjun’s father pointing to the building that was burned. they started walking towards the building. “Arjun!” I yelled out. He turned around, and bang! The bullet from my gun had shot his father right in the heart. His father was dead.

 

I took Arjun back to my office and asked him several questions. He kept crying and kept saying, “Why did you kill my father?” I explained the entire scenario and he finally calmed down.

 

Later that day, I took him down to the adoption center to find him eligible parents.

 

The next morning, I had a report sitting on my desk. It was regarding Arjun. A family had adopted him and he was very happy.

 

I had fulfilled my job. Protecting people. I worked hard day and night to make that possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Category: Muskaan, Sept 2017 | 2 Comments on The Attack
September 27

Assignment 1: Visual Reflection

Assignment 1: Visual Reflection

Creative: interior monologue

Exam: January 2015

This, so called town, is extremely small and is falling apart. I feel terrible that I have to be here, honesty I don’t know how much more I can take. It is so rough and to see these little kids running around without shoes on. But yet they still have the biggest smile on their face because this is the only life they know.

I have come overseas, leaving my family and friends, to help maintain this town. I miss them so much especially including my wife, Sauvneet along with my two kids; Abdule and Harsh. We live back in Canada and it has been 7 years there and we love it. Personally we wouldn’t want to live anywhere else; it is so welcoming.

Most of the kids tend to keep their distance from me because, as my job, I have to carry around a gun in case someone attacks. The third world countries have been getting worst in the sense that they aren’t free anymore, they can’t do what they want. It’s all a dictatorship, but I am just here to protect not to live. The conditions of this town are so poor; they play soccer without shoes but yet its so hot with nice palm trees. Such a warm climate but its a very polluted and low economy, i just feel so bad for them.

It is incredible how much hardships one town can truly go through. I’ve never lived in a town so small, so beat up and so weak. I can’t imagine what some of these kids are going through, I’m glad my kids are growing up in Canada where they are safe and secure from the world out there.

I’ve never been one to take life for granted but after being sent to this town of Sibernes, I realized how good my life actually is. I must be thankful because     Canada is so great, I don’t know where I would be without such a good country, it is honestly so safe.

All these kids, old and young, playing soccer without shoes because they can afford them and they don’t understand. Soccer is one of the only things keeping them going and is one of the few things they can do during their day. Time is running out for these kids and they don’t realize, next thing they know they will be working and having their own kids. It honestly is such a fast cycle and they are growing up in poverty.

I can’t do much else but do my job and protect them the best I can. If I could I would do so much more including; rebuild many buildings and structures, give some of these kids shoes, and maybe build them a soccer arena. This way they would truly realize how much a life can mean to them, understand the little things in life.

These poor kids! This is your life and you can’t do much about it, but neither can I…

Category: Chantelle | 2 Comments on Assignment 1: Visual Reflection
September 27

Genuine

Genuine

The gunshots are terrifying. I can hear them from our rusty apartment. Mama and Papa  would always say “Don’t worry beta (son), I will always keep you safe.” I was eight years old during the most disastrous Afghanistan war I have lived through. The men in those ugly uniforms running around carelessly, shooting and killing neighbors and families, kidnapping children, who were never seen again. It is horrifying. I remember the day when those men took Mama and Papa, and shot them right in front of me. They were the ones who were supposed to keep me safe.

I hadn’t been outside in a while to play with my friends, Nani (grandma) would never let me in case those men came through our village again. I could remember when I played soccer with Vijay and Kumar. I was the best. For as long as I can remember, my dream was to become a professional soccer player. Papa bought us a soccer ball by selling one of our kitchen pots and we would play from dawn to dusk. But ever since it got more dangerous, I wasn’t allowed to go outside.  

I can clearly remember this one day, it was around 9:00 o’clock in the morning, April 1964, when one of the men living in the next door apartment yelled, “There are no men right now! Come everyone, come get the clean water before they do! Come! Come!”

“Beta, stay here okay? I need go get the water from the well. Do not go outside.” Nani said.

All I said was “Okay”.

There was no one in apartment except a few kids. All of a sudden I heard familiar sounds. It was Vijay and Kumar playing out in the courtyard with our old soccer ball and the torn up soccer nets one of the neighbors built a long time ago. Vijay caught me staring out the window.

“Hey! Come play.”

“Nani said I can’t come outside!”

“Come on you coward, they are all gone to the well. It will take them a while.” he replied.

All I could say was “Okay.”

I was actually nervous and terrified. I haven’t been on the courtyard since the men came to take Mama and Papa. Horrible thoughts were going through my head.

“Come let’s play,” said Kumar. We started to play; it had felt like nothing changed. I was still the best.

“Oh no! The ball went out, go get it!” Vijay yelled from the other side of the courtyard.”

I ran towards the entrance of the courtyard, beside the large useless wall. As I came toward the ball, I saw a man. A man in a ugly uniform, holding the largest rifle in his right hand. I couldn’t move. Those horrible thoughts were racing through my head. But the man kept watching us, as if he was watching us for a while. He did not move, no smile, not even a twitch. But the man did say these words, “Wow Beta, you are the best at this game.” and the man walked away toward the road that is the exit out of the village. He never came back. For the first time ever, I embraced the genuine man in the ugly uniform. The only time, ever.

 

Category: Sapna, Sept 2017 | LEAVE A COMMENT
September 27

Dear Diary,

Visual Link.

Jan 2014 Visual Diagnostic (1)-p81j0l

Dear Diary,

Today was like any other day. I got back from school, finished my work, spent some quality time with my family, and took Marshall out for a walk, and, my god, did he enjoy that. By the time I reached home, my stomach started growling, I was famished, finished my dinner and then I went to my room upstairs. I could hear my mom yelling at my younger brother to just sit down in one place and finish his dinner. I understand that she must be tired of working, well, it is hard to get adjusted to a new environment. She started working again, just a couple of weeks ago. I bet she really misses her vacation now, considering how much she was complaining about how much she misses work. I finished all my school work. I lay on my bed, as I go through my Facebook feed I saw this absolutely heartbreaking story that moved me and changed my mindset about the world we live in. I wonder what has happened to the humanity in this world. I had no idea people could be so cruel.

This is not how I expected it to end. The world must be in a state of shock after hearing about this event in South Korea. We are all well aware about North Korea’s recent experiment with their missile “testing”, more like proposing World War III. For many, it may come across as a shock to hear a missile launching on South Korea this afternoon. I skipped the video because this dreadful picture caught my attention.

In this picture, there are two young boys who don’t look more than eight years old. They look terrified and confused about the current situation. It seems like one of them is running towards this man leaning towards the wall. It seems like the man is holding a gun, maybe for protection. There are no adults present, which indicates they have decease due to the missile launch. It could also mean that parents or guardians were not present during the time of the attack. Looking at the condition of this place it seems like the survivors have had nothing to drink or eat in days. They have been left to starve without any support or help from anyone. I have a five-year-old brother, and he starts crying if he wakes up in the morning and doesn’t find my mom beside him. I patiently let him know it’s okay, and that mom had just gone downstairs. And now these children in South Korea have no idea what is happening to their country and they don’t have anyone to give them the courage and tell them that it is going to be alright. I cannot even begin to imagine how they must be feeling not have any guidance or support from elders.

The surprising factor I read on the same page was that North Korea is claiming that they had nothing to do with the loss or suffering of South Korea and their citizens. They have also offered to help South Korea with anything they need at this devastating time. Now the real concern is who is responsible for the state South Korea is in right now. All my prayers are with the families and children who lost their loved ones.

Good night, Diary

 

Category: Sept 2017, Suhaani | 2 Comments on Dear Diary,
September 27

The Story of Cue-raw

                                                                                                      by: Nathan V

I stand here alone, guarding my post, looking around i see buildings obliterated by who knows what, to my right there is a old living complex, to my left, nothing but a mind field of dead soldiers. I, me, i was the only one left. Behind me there are a few children playing soccer, there was no soccer field, yet the children managed to play. They seemed to be unaware of the battle field that lay around them.

I watched them play there game for a bit they seemed quite into the game. In fact, the one child, the one with short brown hair had kicked the ball to the extent that his shoe flew off! It landed about five or so feet from me. I watched him intensely as he ran to go get his shoe and their ball. He was not concerned by my look as my eyes were concealed behind the sunglasses I had been wearing. I watched them for a while. They seemed to always be cheering and always happy. I thought to myself that they must not know what is about to happen, for some time I thought about telling them but decided against it.

Two hours went by, I waited and waited, the kids went on with their game while I stood alone at my post gripping my weapon for what was about to come. Suddenly, a rumble came from the streets ahead the children now seemed to notice what might come of their lives. They shot me a look of concern as I raised my gun, they quickly grabbed their ball and cowered in a near building behind me. I was scared to; I wanted to run; I wanted to live. I thought about what I would have to do as soon as I saw the men wearing the blue uniforms. Before I had time to finish my thought there they were rushing down the streets there must have been fifty men. It was like a wall of death wherever they walked, people died. I was ready and aiming, I only had a few more seconds to wait before they were in range. I was unnoticed and very scared. The men came closer and closer I then cocked my gun. Only having one clip I knew that with excellent accuracy I could only kill about thirty men, I then knew I was going to die.

I emptied my gun into the enemy lines killing thirty five men, I looked back and saw the children. They gave me a look of hope, a hope that they might all survive. I then cowered behind a concrete barricade I was very close to the children now. The one boy then spoke “are we going to see our family again,” this nearly brought me to tears. I told them, “I didn’t  know”. Saying such ended my hidden emotions as tears dripped down my face. Well, we embraced in a hug; I felt something in the boy’s pocket, I thought to myself, no, it can’t be. I then asked him what he had in his pocket. He said that he had found it and took it from his father as he pulled it out. It was a grenade! In all my luck how could it be! A grenade! He now stood a chance against the fifteen men I rushed the boys into a building and rushed them up a set of stairs the men now saw their location and chased after them in hot pursuit, the kids hide under a bed as instructed not knowing what was about to happen. I pulled the pin on the grenade without having time to wish the children goodbye. I jumped down the stairs into the group of blue uniformed soldiers, killing them all along with myself for the life of the children.

The children that I had not known. My  legacy lives on in the village of Cue-raw. The two children that I saved  now protect the village watching over the kids in the nearby soccer court, as life goes on.

Category: Nathan, Sept 2017 | 2 Comments on The Story of Cue-raw