They walked in the minefield anyway
In the desert of Baiji, Salah El Din, a few days ago, in an area contaminated by improvised explosive devices (IEDs), a shepherd and his young son were walking calmly among nearly 200 sheep. They were grazing inside a dangerous IED minefield as if it were just another piece of land.
We shouted warnings at them. We urged them to step back. They didn’t respond. They simply continued walking.
Seeing someone unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly) walk into deadly ground is a feeling that’s hard to describe. This area has a history—accidents, casualties, and families torn apart. On the way back, one question stayed with me: What makes someone take such a risk? Is it a lack of awareness? Is it denial? Is it the daily weight of survival, where feeding a family becomes more urgent than staying alive?
Or has danger simply become normal after so many years of conflict? Maybe it’s all of these.
Only one solution: we must clear lands
What I know for sure is this: When communities live for years surrounded by contamination and remnants of war, danger becomes part of their lives. It becomes familiar. Routine. Even for a father walking with his child. As mine action experts, we clear land, reduce risks, educate communities, and advocate for safer futures.
As the sun set over Baiji, I found myself thinking of the shepherd and his son. It was a reminder of why clearance matters, why risk education must never stop, and why saving lives is ultimately about restoring dignity, safety, and hope.
