My name is Iris Blanchette. I’m 15 years old and my parents died in a car accident. Well that’s what my sister Morgan always tells me. I miss Mom and Dad, they always made me blueberry pancakes and wrote love notes. How can they simply die by a car accident? I was young when they passed away so I just obeyed my sister everyday. I can tell that Morgan despises me. I honestly don’t know what I have done to make her hate me so much.  Anyways, lets just talk about me for right now. 

I hate school, the district, and life in general. There’s no use in living! When it’s the day of the reaping, every year I have the slightest feeling of wanting to participate in the Hunger games. Honestly, I feel like I’d rather fight then stay at home and get tortured from Morgan.  Our neighbor adopted me at age 5 with my sister.

My sister thinks of me as her test object always electrocuting me with weird things. I hate it! I remember this one time when I was eating cereal and she came over and electrocuted me with a odd looking object. I immediately dropped my spoon on the floor and fell out of my chair. I winced in pain and I looked into my sister’s eyes. She didn’t even say sorry nor did I feel a sense of worry. She just stared at me and started laughing. From that day on, I didn’t even consider her my sister. 

 

Everyday when I go to school, I feel like a lonely soul floating around in the classroom. No one recognizes me or talks to me. Not even the teacher. People think I’m shy and cowardly, but honestly I used to be a bright, optimistic person until my parents passed away.  Sometimes I wonder what actually happened to mom and dad. I mean a car accident? There’s only been 4 car accidents in history in district three. I asked my Step mom (neighbor) if she knew anything, but each time she would just look at me with pity and walk away.

 

The reaping will start in 4 days. I’m kind of worried. I know that I said I wanted to participate earlier, but I don’t know… I sort of don’t want to either. What if I die? I hate life and there’s no point of living, but I fear death. If I do get chosen I wish someone volunteered for me…but no one even knows me. Perhaps my sister…never mind that thought she hates me. 

 It was during the Ugandan Civil War, it was midnight when my army and I planned the attack. The night was dry and cold and we could all feel the slight breeze from the wind. I am in the National Resistance Army (NRA) and at that time we were fighting against the government of Milton Obote.
“It’s for my country, for peace,” I would replay in my mind.

            Every single petrifying and alarming seconds on the field felt like ages. Each one of us waiting for the captains command. One single hand movement and then war.  Everyone was terrified yet we kept our emotions under control.  Two fingers up pointing to the nearest building.

            “Lets go,” I shouted to the rest of my group.

           Nothing, but shooting, shouting and the sounds of people screaming. Those were the only things I heard for approximately two hours. Then BAM, a bullet flying right towards me in the speed of lightning. I tried to run away, but it was too late. The bullet hit me right above my hip.  was so stunned that all the training, and survival skills that I have learned washed away from my brain. All I could do was look down and see the blood gushing through my clothes. I tried to run away, wincing at each step. I found a small hut not far from where I was standing. More shots were aiming towards me as I tried to go towards the hut. I ran sucking all the energy I had in the thought of the needing to survive. Finally when I reached the hut I quickly went in. I bent down and laid down on a pile of hay. Using my arms I covered my self as much as possible. Beads of sweat went down my face.  I ripped a part of my shirt and tied it tightly around the wound.

    I don’t know how much time has passed, 30, maybe an hour? I fell asleep and when I woke up, it was dead silent. No gun shots, no wailing and screaming. I stood up and winced, I had completely forgotten about the bullet shot. I carefully stepped forward and peeked a look outside. It was morning, the sun was shining down and all I could see from my distance was smoke coming out of the houses which were now broken down into ruins.  It took me a moment to realize that my army was gone. Questions popped out of my head.  ‘Where are my people?’  ‘Have they been captured?’ ‘Have they left without me?’


           

 

The Invisible Children has created a 30-minute video explaining and spreading the word about Kony 2012. This video has gotten over 33 million views, however people started assuming if all the things said were actually true. The campaign has inspired numerous people to put action against Kony, yet the video contained false information.  When said that Kony was in Uganda, he actually has not been present for 6 years. In addition, the LRA has been proven to have at most hundreds of people not thousands. The IC organization has done a great job to raise awareness, but is this the right way to show it? The Invisible Children have been advertising T-shirts, shoes, and bracelets to donate money into this cause, however only 1/3 of the items purchased have been sent. I believe that the money that has been donated is being wasted on making T-shirts and other accessories rather than actually trying to help the cause.