The Argus

Simple routines and traditions so far from living hell in Aleppo

- John mulligan Elizabeth Toale writing her letter to Santa in St. Malachy’s Infants’ National School.

MANY of us will spend the remaining days before the weekend which is of course Christmas, hurrying here and scurrying there, making our lists and checking them twice, getting the final bits and pieces, so that when shops close on Christmas Eve, we can relax and enjoy what seems to be the holy grail amongst festive celebratio­ns - a quiet Christmas.

Oh for a quiet time in Aleppo this Christmas.

Not even a mega inch HD 4k LCD TV can bring the reality of that living nightmare into our homes.

It is truly horrific and the internatio­nal community should hang their head in shame at the relentless slaughter of civilians in what has become a barbaric civil war.

The United Nations for all their pomp, ceremony and regard for human and civil rights have proved themselves impotent against the might of Russia, just as they have against the force of the United States of America at other times in history.

While the United Nations wag a diplomatic finger at Syria and Russia, innocent civilians are being cleansed from their own home.

How can such actions continue without some reaction from the internatio­nal community.

As we go about our simple chores in preparatio­n for the celebratio­n of Christmas in the coming days and carry out the traditions of the season, collecting the turkey from the butchers, preparing vegetables for the dinner, wrapping our presents, visiting family and exchanging gifts, celebratin­g the birth of our Lord, savouring the innocent excitement of a child on Christmas morning and finally sitting down and sharing a Christmas dinner with our loved ones, we might find time to think of those living amid apocalypti­c chaos, their homes and city reduced to rubble, trapped between combatants, unable to escape, in fear that the next falling bomb, or missile will bring an end to their torment.

The simple pleasures that we will enjoy in sharing this season with our loved family and friends has been torn from their beings.

From afar it seems as if they have been reduced to exist rather than live.

For them it must seem as if the world has forsaken them to their living hell.

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