I've recently been thinking about what happened immediately after the war and in particular how we Stanley children were treated.
Stanley filled with amazing and brave British servicemen and the Argentines were rounded up and taken home. Stanley was in a huge mess. The Argentines had not been good to our beautiful town and the people living there. Vacated properites had been taken over and trashed. Sometimes burned down. They shit in the houses, in the middle of the floor, on the streets everywhere. There were weapons, bombs, kit abandoned everywhere. Vehicles. Shipping containers filled with unused supplies. Booby traps - they even left some in the hospital. Low. Low. Low. The place stank.
Much much clearing up to be done. As soon as the British flag was back in place the clearup began.
The kids, we just had to muddle along too.
No time to stop and think.
No one had time to hear our stories.
No time for tears, there was a town to clear up.
Some days I just sat on the sofa and stared. I could hardly talk.
I had naively thought that when the Argentines left everything would return to how it was in March 1982. The dawning realisation that it would never ever be the same again was too much to bear.
Our teachers returned and school eventually restarted. The Argentines had been living in them too and made a huge mess inside and outside both schools.
Lessons just began. Our beautiful Mrs Whitley had so sadly been killed in the war and was replaced by a new teacher. There was no mention of her passing. No mention of anything. It was as if the war hadn't happened. Kids returned from the camp with their stories. Kids returned from UK with beautiful new clothes and toys. All we had was mud and a head full of pictures and stories we didn't know how to tell.
What would I have liked? *To have been told the whole story of what happened in a way I could understand. *To be reassured that I was safe now. *For someone to hear my stories in a non-threatening or critical way. Maybe not only in words but in creative ways too. A friend drew the picture about what he saw.
. *To have an open atmosphere where we could hear and be heard. Warkids have a story too.
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