Every surviving war child has two stories – one from the war itself and one from its aftermath.

Zlata Filipovic with Kon Kelei, Grace Akallo and Ishmael Beah , all members of the Network of Young People Affected by War

I remember trying to write a book report when I heard the first gunshots of my life; sounds that no child, anywhere in the world, should ever hear. I tried hard to concentrate on the assignment, worried what the teacher might say the next day. That was the last book report I did for almost two years of my time in the conflict in Bosnia.

My school in Sarajevo was bombed and closed, and an enormous rocket hole stood in place of the wall of the literature classroom. I left some neatly written essays in the cupboard that was blown apart. I never knew what happened to my teacher. I never saw her again.

We know what emergencies are – we have felt them on our skin, they crept into our lives, blew them away, sliced them, fragmented them. They stole our innocence, humanity, childhood, families. In all of our cases, conflicts stole one of our basic rights as children and young people; that to education. That was the first thing that went when the horrors began. The closure of school was a sign that something was very wrong.

One day our pens were dropped, notebooks abandoned, benches deserted. Rooms covered with our drawings, lingering with giggles and passed notes became empty. The fear of being called to the board to solve a math problem and excitement of discovering the magic of writing were gone. Learning how to play, how pull a pen across paper and leave a permanent mark in this world snatched. Instead, our schools became shelters, places where humanitarian aid was distributed, bombed out ghost buildings, vandalized spaces, weapons storerooms, demarcations of enemy zones and front lines.

Locked inside my house, terrified of the outside world where death could snatch you anytime, I read endlessly, trying to keep myself growing. Then one day, some young women from my neighborhood started a “war school.” We did not have real classes, but we met occasionally when the days were relatively quiet and we could be children again for a moment. These young women could not watch the children waste away, and they gave us their time and generously shared their imagination, creativity and knowledge with us. I will never forget them and what they did for us – I can only hope that confronted by similar circumstances, I would be as generous and take on that noble task of a teacher.

Daily, children like me, like us, around the world, go into cellars and hiding places, into refugee camps or into the army. With them goes the future of their countries and of the world. They die, they are maimed, traumatized, broken — all future leaders, civil servants, scholars, fathers, mothers and teachers.

Conflicts end and some children are lucky enough to survive or escape. As with any trauma, the recovery period is a slow. It happens through many different processes, but it is education that builds a future for fragmented lives and countries, for broken youths and destroyed coexistences.

Kon remembers his first years at school after deserting the Sudanese People’s Liberation Army. He was not aggressive toward his teachers and classmates, but mistrusted them all. He knew that the only way to solve problems was to fight, much like many child soldiers. Learning to trust his teachers and classmates was a way out for him – and a beginning of a new way to live. Education allowed him, as a war child, to gain back his sense of humanity. Without this, he says, the effects of war are carried until they explode somewhere along the line and hurt more people.

When Grace first escaped from the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda, the world had already branded her generation lost. To make it worse, being a girl in her society made her less valuable. In Uganda, the most marginalized or invisible people are child mothers who had been forced into their situation and saw their future destroyed. Grace believes education and continued psychosocial counseling help children and young people move on and make new friends who encourage them in further pursuits.

Coming out of the war in Sierra Leone, many things helped Ishmael recover: the rehabilitation process and a strong family being key. However, holistic healing was possible because he had access to education. Through school, he learned to strengthen the purpose of his own humanity again and to reaffirm that he is not only capable of violence, as he had come to believe in his childhood years, but that he was capable of more.

Schools are where we realise our potential, where we become social beings, where we grow and develop as functioning, contributing and empathetic members of our communities and the world. After conflict, this is where the dangers of landmines can be disseminated, the prevention of HIV/AIDS can be taught and the process of reconciliation sown. This is where guns can be exchanged for knowledge and training, and where peace-building messages are interwoven with skills and knowledge.

If sustainable peace is to be attained, we all firmly believe that education should be an integral part of every peace agreement and strong attention should be given to all education projects in conflict and post-conflict countries. Education begins the long journey for war-affected children to reclaim their youth, discover their own humanity and develop their contribution to humanity. It is also an antidote for violence in any society. It gives young people the ability to use their minds in a positive and constructive manner and therefore enables them to have the capacity for transformation, and to build or repair the foundations of their dreams and hopes.

This is why many war children are supporting initiatives such as Save the Children’s Rewrite the Future campaign and its goal of convincing world leaders and international organisations to secure the opportunity of an education for all children in conflict-affected fragile states.

We have been lucky. We survived and have all benefited from reinstated education in our lives. We can even have a voice today, and you can hear us because we all had the chance to go back to school.

Each year 750,000 children have their education disrupted or are denied their right to education due to various humanitarian disasters. Millions more have not seen the inside of a classroom for years.

A third of the world’s population is under age 15. They all should be assured the right to compulsory, free education despite wars, natural disasters, poverty, disease, epidemics and post-conflict recoveries.

Trust us, we know. Our pens were snatched away, but we luckily got hold of them again. And we have a voice again. We hope you can hear us on behalf of all those voiceless ones.

Notes
Zlata Filipovic, born in Sarajevo, Bosnia is the author of Zlata's Diary: A Child's Life in Wartime Sarajevo and is joint a founding member of the recently established Network of Young People Affected by War (NYPAW) with Ishmael Beah (Sierra Leone), Kon Kelei (Sudan), Grace Akallo (Uganda), Emmanuel Jal (Sudan), Shena A. Gacu (Uganda).

On 18 March 2009 the United Nations is holding a General Assembly Thematic Debate on Education in Emergencies.