I Will Always Remember Where I Was When Cecil The Lion Was Killed
The following is an op-ed written by "Mohammed," a Syrian War Refugee.
I am sorry it is taking me so long to post my outrage over Cecil the Lion. My village has been without electricity for the last week after the Americans bombed our power plant. I had to walk for two days — hiding from ISIS along the way — before I found this Internet cafe. But my anger over the death of Cecil is still hot as the desert sands.
I remember exactly what I was doing when I heard what had happened.
It started off as a normal day for my town, with the Syrian Air Force dropping barrel bombs on several neighborhoods and a local school. As I dug the bodies of several women out of the rubble, one of the other rescue workers asked if I'd heard that Cecil the Lion was killed.
I froze in shock, dropping part of what I assume was once a human arm on the ground. "Not Cecil the Lion!" I exclaimed. "Not him! Truly, is there no innocence left in this world?" I cried harder than when we discovered my brother was gay and I…
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