Why do fireflies have to die so soon?

By Irintsoa Rakotomamonjy

There she was, kneeling still. Dirt clung to her knees like grief clings to memory. The soil was quite moist for her tiny fingers to dig up. She didn’t flinch when the earth bit back. She welcomed it. The sky had to be clear that day. For her at least.

Free from ashes and scent of corps.

Free from flying missiles.

Those tiny palms of hers – too soon to turn rigid – cupped a hand full of dimmed fireflies. The momentum memory returned: Dancing along their lights, her brother’s laughter chasing them. Her giggles, trailing behind.

He came, slow steps, unsure if he should speak but did anyways. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t look up. “Making a grave,” she muttered, her voice pulled down by a weight she didn’t choose to carry. He couldn’t bear to hear his little sister this way.

“Mom’s in a grave too, right?” She asked but it was more rhetorical. Like something she’d already accepted. Her hands kept moving, burying what once glowed in her dark nights. Burying what she shouldn’t have to.

Tears streamed down her face. Silently.

“Why do fireflies have to die so soon?” She finally looked up to meet his eyes, knowing that the answers weren’t there either. Nor was it in the sky or dirt.

Because she, too, was among the fireflies.

Stoic Japanese orphan, standing at attention having brought his dead younger brother to a cremation pyre, Nagasaki, by Joe O'Donnell 1945

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What you just read is a scene from Isao Takahata’s famous animated film, Grave of The Fireflies.

For a brief insight, it narrates the story of two orphaned siblings, Seita and Setsuko dealing with

the outbreak and aftermath of the second World War in Japan. The late Takahata and his best

friend Miyazaki (creator of Ghibli) have used their creativity to depict the true face of war: not

glory, not heroism, but unbearable loss. How relevant it is today that it’s always the vulnerable,

especially children, who suffer the most.

If you haven’t watched the movie yet *spoiler alert* Seita and Setsuko’s tragedy did not come

from the violence of the war’s combat, but from the slow, merciless grip of famine. They rotted

gradually: the hallowing of cheeks, the dimming of eyes, the weakness in their legs, the

desperate scraping of food that isn’t there. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Today, in Gaza, the very same silence screams louder than any bombs. Gaza is now in IPC Phase

5, the highest level of food insecurity, officially classified as famine. Not just as a consequence of

war but famine constructed. It is right in front of our eyes: Their skin clinging to bone where

laughter is supposed to live. Their bellies swollen with emptiness. Their eyes dulled by

exhaustion. According to @jewishvoiceforpeace, “The Israeli military’s deliberate infliction of

malnutrition is killing Palestinians faster than at any other point in the 21-month genocide. Since

World War II, no instance of starvation has been so purposely orchestrated and tightly

controlled.” This brings us back to Seita and Setsuko’s story as we reflect on the cost of survival

throughout history.

If children are among what they once so-preached as “future generations,” why then are they

paying for a price they never owed? Why are they paying for being born in a place the world has

deemed expendable?

It’s not just in Gaza. Sudan. Haiti. DRC. Mali. Myanmar. You can find more information here.

And if you’re reading this, having the privilege to find out about such information on the

internet, be the voice of those tethered. Educate yourself, learn the language of those suffering.

Be cautious about who and where you donate to. And in this digital age, we should bring back

the rationality of activism because these issues are not a stage for anyone to perform on.

ABOUT IRINTSOA:

Irintsoa Rakotomamonjy (she/her) is an aspiring 19 years old writer from Madagascar, currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Digital Media and Communication. Ever since her early childhood, she has had a great passion for art-related mediums, believing in using them for advocacy. Specializing in storytelling, some of her previous works have been published by UNICEF Madagascar and some self-published on UNICEF’s platform Voices of Youth. Also an avid reader and film enthusiast, her heart lies in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s works, her favourite author, and Greta Gerwig’s visual direction. These are only the beginning, and she is yet to learn more on her creative journey.