Dunya El Amary

I wake up to the sound of crying. It's always like this in the camp. The air is heavy with dust and sadness, but I try to start each day with hope. My sister, Amal, sleeps beside me, her tiny body still so fragile. She smiles at me, and it feels like the sun has come out, even if it's only for a moment.

I’m 10 years old, and sometimes I feel much older. The war has been here since I was born, a constant shadow over my life. I don't understand it, but I know it took my father away and destroyed our home in Hudaida, Yemen. The loud noise, the shaking ground, and then the sight of our house crumbling as we ran for our lives. We lost everything.

Now, we live in this camp. It's crowded and loud, but we have food and water, which is more than some people. My mother is amazing. Even though she has to do everything alone since Papa died, she never stops fighting for us. She’s part of a group of women who meet and talk about peace. They inspire me.

Sometimes, I watch other children playing and wonder what it would be like to have a real home again. A place where I could go to school and learn things. I dream of being a teacher one day, helping kids like me who’ve lost so much. But right now, I just want my sister to get better and for my mother to have some rest.

In the evenings, we sit together and Mama tells us stories of the time before the war. She tells us about the sea in Hudaida, and how Papa used to take us there. I can almost hear the waves and feel the cool water on my feet. It makes me miss him so much, but it also gives me hope that one day, we’ll see the sea again.

Amal falls asleep with her head on my lap, and I stroke her hair gently. I look at my mother, who is already planning for tomorrow, thinking of ways to make our lives better. I don't understand why there is this war, but I know I want it to stop. I want to see my sister grow strong and go to school with me. I want us to have a home again, a place where we can feel safe and dream about the future.