Stop the bloodshed.

I arrived home from Paris late last night. I hadn’t seen my 5 year old boy and my 18-month old girl for three days. This morning I was rewarded with two warm bundles in my bed – a small one, baby-signing “milk” at me with big eyes and a huge grin, and a bigger bundle smothering me in kisses and cuddles and stories of his adventures at school.

On the other side of the world, in Syria’s central Homs province, 49 warm bundles of joy and fun and wide-eyed grins are no more. They are now 49 cold bundles. They were killed one by one, shot and stabbed in their houses. This is from Wednesday’s Times:

‘The children of Houla were not killed by random shelling. The UN yesterday revealed that they were murdered one by one. The militia came in the night armed with knives and guns, and the young victims were executed with a bullet to the head or a knife to the throat.’

There are virtually no eyewitnesses of the massacre as anyone who saw what was happening was then slaughtered. One 11-year old boy survived. He watched his parents, sisters and brothers killed and then smothered himself in his brother’s blood and pretended to be dead. Here is his story. I had to fight against my instinct to shrink away from such gruesome, bloody news and I forced myself to read it. Part of me wants to hide from this horrific nightmare. But the families out there in Houla can’t hide from it. For them it’s not just a nightmare. It’s reality. Their reality. And they must be wondering why the rest of the world isn’t doing something to stop it.

Today thousands of bloggers are writing about what’s happening out there in syria. I am far from the most informed. But I wanted to join in this cry for help. To stop the violence and the bloodshed.  If you want to join in too, you can …

  • By signing the petition from Save the Children.
  • By signing the petition from Amnesty.
  • By blogging about it, tweeting about it, sharing links on Facebook.
  • By ReTweeting tweets you see using the hashtags #tippingpoint #syria #stopthekilling.
I wasn’t sure whether I should add a photo of some of the children, but I have decided to do so. It was when I saw the photos that the extent of the horror really hit me. I have, however, chosen one of the less graphic ones.
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