Diary Entries

The First Time I Touched War

It was January 1993.  I was twelve years old. Junior, my old brother, Talloi, my friend, and I went to the shores of Mattru Jong after visiting of mother and my little brother, Ibrahim. We took a canoe to the other side of the river. When we arrived, a woman told us, “Too much blood has been spilled where you are going. Even the good spirits have fled from that place.” When we were walking, we heard women screaming, “God help us!” and their children’s names. We walked six miles until we reached Kabati, my grandmother village. It was deserted. As evening approached, we could hear the voices of children looking for their lost parents. We sat on Grandmother’s verandah waiting for something. Junior asked if we should go back to Mogbwemo, our home but before any could answer a Volkswagen pulled up. People ran into the bushes when the saw the car. The man in the driver’s seat ran out and vomited blood. His arm was bleeding. He began to cry. That was the first time a saw a grown man cry. When we opened the other car door, a woman leaning against the door fell to the ground. Blood was coming out of her ears. In the back seats were three more bodies: two girls and a boy. There was blood everywhere in the van. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from this horrific scene. My body froze. The rebels had killed that man’s family. The only thing that consoled him was that he knew that he would have a chance to bury them. More people passed through the village. One man came carrying his dead son. He was covered in his son’s blood. He thought he was still alive. He told him that he would take him to the hospital and he was going to be fine. Also there were people running with several gunshot wounds. There was skin coming off the bodies. They didn’t notice until someone pointed them out. Some fainted or vomited. I was getting dizzying and felt nauseated. The last death I saw was a woman carrying her baby on her back. Blood was dripping from her back leaving a trail. Her baby had been shot. Lucky for her, the bullet didn’t pass through the baby’s body. When she stopped, she sat on the ground and removed the baby from her back. It was a baby girl. The baby’s eyes were opened and the baby had an innocent smile on her face. The mother held on to her and rocked back and forth. She was in too much and pain and shock to shed tears.

Nightmare of Death

I’m pushing a rusty wheelbarrow into town. The air reeks of blood and burnt flesh. In the wind you can hear the faint cries of people taking their last breathes. Arms and legs missing, intestines spilled out through bullet wounds in their stomachs, and brain matter coming out of their noses is everywhere. Flies are around every body and pool of blood. The eyes are redder than the blood coming out of them. I look down and notice my crapes (shoes) are soaked in blood which seems to be running down my shorts. I feel no pain. The only thing I feel is the warmth of my AK-47’s barrel on my back. The wheelbarrow contains a dead body wrapped in white bed sheets. I don’t know why I’m taking this body to the cemetery. When I arrived I had trouble lifting the body. It felt as if the body is resisting. I carried it in my arms, looking for a nice place to rest it. My body aches so much. With each step I feel a rush of pain to my spine. I collapse to the ground with the body in my arms. Bloodspots cover the white bed sheets. I unwrapped the body. From the feet to the neck are bullet wounds. One bullet crushed the Adam’s apple. I lifted the remaining piece of cloth and realized the dead body was mine. I lay sweating for a few minutes on the floor where I had fallen asleep. A piercing pain came up to my spine. I looked at the red exposed brick wall and my rap cassettes. I tried to think of my new life in New York City but my mind kept on going back to Sierra Leone. My AK-47 and I were walking through coffee farms with the squad.  We were on the way to attack a small town. We opened fire until the last person was dead. We walked towards the bodies, giving each other high fives. We took their ammunition, sat on their bodies, and started eating cooked food they were carrying. We were enjoying ourselves amongst fresh blood leaking from dead bodies. I got up and splashed some water in my face. I was afraid to go back to sleep but staying awake brought back some pain memories. Memories I wish I could wash away. I lived in three worlds: my dreams, and the experiences of my life, which triggers memories from the past.

The Rebels Come

We were in Mattru Jong.  We heard the rebels were stationed in Sumbuya which is a town about twenty miles northeast of Mattru Jong. We haven’t heard any news about our families. Letters from people who escaped from the rebels said that the rebels are coming to Mattru Jong and wanted to be welcomed because they were ”fighting for us.” One of the messengers, a young man, had the initials RUF (Revolutionary United Front) carved into his body with a bayonet and all his fingers chopped off except for his thumbs. The rebels called that type of cutting/ chopping “one love.” Before the war, when someone raised their thumb it meant “one love.” When villagers heard this news, they started hiding in the bushes. When more messengers arrived, more people went into hiding. The rebels didn’t come on the day they said that they were coming. People started moving back into town. The last messenger was a well-known Catholic bishop. After that people went to their hiding places. Ten days passed but nothing happened. The town came alive again. Schools reopened and people went back to their daily routines. The next five days were peaceful and even the soldiers began to relax. When the rebels finally arrived, I was cooking rice and okra soup. I heard a single gunshot. Junior, Talloi, Gibrilla, and Khalilou ran outside.  A minute later, three different guns began firing rapidly. The town became very quit for fifteen minutes. I went inside to serve the food. Instantly several gunshots went off. Within seconds, people started screaming and running in all directions. Families were separated. The rebels shot into the sky and danced into town. There are two ways to enter Mattru Jong: by the road or by crossing the river Jong. The rebels came by the road which forced people to jump into the river. Junior, Talloi, Khalilou, Gibrilla, Kaloko, and I had the instinct to run to where the gunshots were coming from. Then we stopped in front of some sandbags to think about our next move. We decided to run where there were fewer gunshots. There was only one way to escape out of the town. Everyone headed for it. We ran together so none of us got left behind. To get to the escape route, we had to cross a wet and muddy swamp next to a tiny hill. As we ran, we saw people who were stuck in the mud but we couldn’t risk helping them. The real danger began after we crossed the swamp. The rebels don’t want people to abandon the town, because they needed civilians as shields against the military especially women and children. The rebels fired any and every type of weaponry they had. Staying was a big risk because the RUF recruited young boys and carved RUF on them. That meant you could never escape because civilian soldiers would kill you after seeing that with no questions asked. We heard another grenade approaching. We ran. We ran for more than an hour without stopping. I couldn’t believe how fast and long we were running. I didn’t even sweat. Junior called my name sometimes just to make sure that I was still there.

Look What the Rebels Have Done

For numerous days we walked on a tiny path. Junior’s arms didn’t swing like they used to. I knew there was something wrong. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I thought about my family and if I was going to see them again and if they were safe. I wanted to cry but I was too hungry. We slept in abandoned villages and hoped to find raw cassava to eat. There was one village that had bananas, oranges, and coconut trees. Khalilou climbed the trees to get them. The bananas were raw so we boiled them but the still taste nasty. We still ate everything just so we could have something in our stomachs. We had to go back to Mattru Jong so we could get our money and buy some food. On our way, in a barren town, we saw bodies and other people’s property scattered all over the place. We saw a man sitting in a chair with a bullet hole in his forehead. In front of him were two bodies of men. Both of them had their genitals, limbs, and hands chopped off. The machete was next to a pile of body parts. I vomited. We ran on our tiptoes fast avoiding the main roads. In the middle of this, we heard footsteps. There was no cover so we ran into a verandah. We saw two rebels wearing baggy jeans, slippers, white T-shirts, red handkerchiefs tied around the head, and they carried guns of their backs. They were escorting a group of women with pots and rice. We waited for them to pass. We finally arrived at Khalilou’s house. The house was destroyed. The house was looted completely. The only foods that were there was raw rice in bags that are too heavy carry. Luckily the money was still there. It was in a tiny plastic bag under the foot of the bed. I put it in my shoe and left. The six of us and other people we met on the path decided to come up with a plan to cross the clearing in groups of three. I was in the second group. There were dead bodies and flies everywhere. We made it to the other side. We saw more rebels on guard. The next group was Junior’s group. Something fell out of someone’s pocket onto an aluminum pan. The sound was loud enough to get the attention of the rebels. My heart broke when I watch my brother pretending to be one of the dead bodies. Somewhere else, gunshots rang aloud. This distracted them so Junior and others were able to cross. In the last group there was a boy who was moving very slow because he had a big bag of things. The rebels saw him and started shooting in our direction. We told him to drop the bag and run but he didn’t listen. He crossed but the bag got stuck between tree stumps. We ran as fast as we could until we lost the rebels. It was sunset so we walked. The boy with the bag didn’t make it to the first crowded village. That night was good because we had money to buy cooked rice with cassava or potato leaves. We ate well that night but we saved in case we needed it. We would have been less hungry if we had stayed at the village instead of walking miles to Mattru Jong and back. I wanted to blame someone for the position we were in but there wasn’t anyone to blame. That night we were so hungry that we stole people’s food while they slept.

All I Could Think About Was Death

We were so hungry that it hurt to drink water. It felt like our stomachs were eating themselves. Our bodies ached. We didn’t know where to get food. There were no rabbits or birds in sight. The cassava farm that we ravaged didn’t last long. We became irritable. We sat apart from each other so we weren’t has hungry. One night we chased a little boy eating two corn ears. He was about five years old. We looked at each other then ambushed the little boy at the same time. Before the boy could understand what was happening, we had the corn. We ate them while he cried and ran to his parents. Later that evening, the boy’s mother gave us each an ear of corn. We were so hungry that we went back to Mattru Jong. We knew it was going to be dangerous but we were too hungry to care. When we were walking in the grassland, three rebels emerged from behind dried grasses and pointed their guns at Gibrilla, who was in the front. One rebel cocked his gun and put under Gibrilla’s chin. They all laughed at how scared Gibrilla was. The younger rebel lifted my head with his bayonet. None of the rebels were older than twenty-one. I trembled so hard that my lips began to shake. The rebels motioned us back to the village. The things the rebels had on were taken from people they killed. The rebels were talking a lot but I couldn’t listen to what they were saying, because all I could think about was death. I was trying hard not to faint. When we came to the village, two of the rebels ran ahead of us. There were six of us and one rebel but that one rebel had a semiautomatic machine gun with a belt of bullets wrapped around him. They made us walk in two lines of three. The rebel was behind us aiming his gun at our heads. He explained that if we move everyone would die. The two rebels ran to the village to gather everyone there. There were over fifteen people there, mostly young boys, some girls, and a few adults. It was getting dark so that got big flashlights and put them on top of the rice-pounding mortars so they could see everyone. There was an old man that was crossing a creaky wooden bridge. The young rebel went to go get him and brought him over to where we were. The rebel pushed him to the ground and pointed the gun to his head. The man managed to stand up but his knees were shaking. The rebels laughed and made us laugh. Deep inside, I was crying. My hands and legs became to tremble. The rebels asked the old man many questions. They asked him why he left Mattru Jong while measuring his bayonet with his fingers. He said he left to go look for his family. The rebels said that he was lying and that he left because he didn’t like them. The old man closed his eyes and cried. One rebel placed his gun on the old man’s head and asked him if he had any last words. He didn’t say anything. The rebel pulled the trigger and I saw the spark of fire that came from the muzzle. I turned my face. The man screamed and grabbed his head. He stopped and realized he wasn’t shot then fainted. The rebel fired at a close range near his head. The rebels were amused by his reaction. Then they faced us. They were picking people to recruit. They walked passed us trying to make eye contact. They chose Khalilou first, then me, and a few others. We stood in a different line facing other. Junior wasn’t chosen. I looked at him but he was avoiding eye contact. They decided to do another pick because the ones that they pick before trembling which meant that we were sissies. They put us all in one line again. I got next to Junior. I poked me and rubbed my head. Then the rebels screamed for us to stand still. Junior was chosen but the rest us weren’t. They took us to the river. They wanted to make sure we were strong enough for the killing involved. I turned and looked at Junior; his eyes were red because he was holding back his tears. I began to cry quietly and then I felt dizzy. One of the chosen boys threw up so the rebels quickly put him with us. The rebel hit him in the face with the butt of the gun then his face started bleeding. All of a sudden, there were gunshots coming from somewhere. The rebels fired their guns and ran to hide. Everyone ran away. We ran as fast as we could. A bullet hit a tree right above my head and fell right beside me. I saw red bullets flying through the forest. Some of the rebels captured them. I could hear the screams of them while they were being beaten. About an hour later gunshot gradually faded. I was lying under a tree thinking of what I need to do next. Junior was calling all the names of our friends making sure everyone was still there. That night’s trip was quite; none of us spoke. We arrived at a village and we sat around the fire until dawn. Once again no one spoke. In the morning we started talking. During the day, we washed our clothes. We had no soap so we just soaked them and lay then out to dry. We agreed to leave early the next morning.

Group of Six Boys Isn’t a Good Idea

Traveling in a group hasn’t worked out the great for us. We have to travel in a group because we have a better chance from escaping day-to-day troubles for food. People were scared of boys our age. People would think we were the rebels and try to kill us to protect their families. We decided to bypass villages by walking through the bushes so we didn’t have to go through those people. We would be safe and avoid chaos. People stopped trusting each other. One day, right after we bypassed the forested area of the village, a group of muscular men sprang from the bushes. They had their machetes and hunting rifles. They asked for us to stop and brought their chief out. We went to the chief’s compound. A huge man pushed us to the ground and tied our feet. Then our hands were pulled behind our backs until our elbows touch. I was crying because of the pain. The chief asked if we were rebels or spies. The chief became angry because he did believe that we weren’t rebels or spies. We told them that they we students. Then the chief ordered for us to be drowned. They searched our pockets and in mine they found my rap cassettes. They played the music and chief wanted to know how we got this foreign music. We told him that we rapped but the chief didn’t know what it was. We told him that we were from Mattru Jong. The chief summoned for a young boy from Mattru Jong and confirm what they were saying. The young boy recognized us from our performance but none of us knew him but we didn’t care because he just saved our lives. They untied us and gave us some cassava and smoked fish. I noticed that Junior has changed a lot. He is being very quietly and dull. I don’t like what’s happening. I hoped that he would have some type of eye contact with me. He just sat on the ground with a stone in his hand. I wanted to know what Junior was feeling.

Junior Is Gone Forever

A large group of people passed through the village today. There was a woman who knew Gibrilla and told him that his aunt was in a village about thirty miles from where we are. She gave us the directions. We filled our pockets with unripe oranges that were too sour to eat but it was our only source of food. Kama or’s villagers were on guard and ready move anytime. So we could get food and a place to sleep we had to become watchmen. Three miles from the village was a big hill. From the top of the hill, you could see a mile down the path. We did this for a month but no rebels came. The second planting season was coming up. It was my favorite time of the year. I have known how to farm since 1993. I would help with the farming in Amatory. The first assignment was to clear a massive plot of land the size of a football field. The bush was thick which made it difficult to clear but we did. We would have to do this every day. Sometimes we would lie and rub our shoulders like they hurt and Gibrilla’s uncle knew that we were lying and would call us lazy. The first two weeks were painful; I had back pains and muscle aches. Next we had to plant cassava. We had to dig mini-holes using hoes. Then you take cassava stalks and cut then into short pieces and put them in the holes. There wasn’t much fun in planting cassava. There only sounds were nature sounds like birds and just people moving about—there was this one boy who always got into fights with his mother and she would pull him by the ear. He reminded me of myself. I was a troublesome boy. My mother didn’t stay with us she could beat us. Junior and I were the misfits of our community because of the separation between our parents. We were the gossip of the town. I didn’t like how they pitied us. I made me mad—we had been farming for three months at Kamator. I hated it. The only time I enjoyed it was during the afternoon breaks when we went the river to swim. The sad thing is that all that hard was ruined. The rebels came. Everyone ran away.  It happened unexpectedly. There were no rumors that the rebels were close. They just walked in out of nowhere. It was 8:00 p.m. People were preparing for their evening prayers. The imam was oblivious to what was happening around him. I didn’t go to the mosque that night but my friend Kaloko did. When they noticed the rebels coming in, they ran. People tried whispering to the imam but he just ignored them. The rebels captured him and demanded to know what part of the forest the people were hiding in. he refused to tell them. They bound his hands and feet with wire, tied him to an iron post, and set his body on fire. They didn’t completely burn him but the fire did kill him. His remains were left in the village square like a display. Junior was in the verandah room and I was outside on the steps. When they came, I had no time to look for him. I just ran into the bush. That night I slept by myself, leaning against a tree. The next morning I found Kaloko. We went back to the village to see if there was anyone there. The remains of the imam were still there. You could see the pain in the imam’s face. All the houses were burned. There wasn’t anyone. We went into the forest to look for the rest of our friend and Junior. During the attack, my friends and I were separated. It was the last time I saw my brother Junior. We did find a family that we knew. We stayed with them for two weeks. I thought about how Junior, Gibrilla, Talloi, and Khalilou were doing; if they had escaped or not. I was losing everyone–my family, my friends. I wish my family could be back together.

Living in Fear

We went to Kamator again to see if anyone had return yet but no one had. The silence of the village was scary. I was scared when the wind blew and shook the thatched roofs. I felt as if I was out of my body wondering somewhere. There no birds or crickets, no lizards scurrying around, only the sound of our footsteps. After every visit, we would get the brooms and sweep our footsteps. The last time Kaloko and I went; we saw a dog eating the remains of the imam and above vultures circling getting ready to attack. I was frustrated with living in fear. I felt like I was waiting for death to come. So I decided to go somewhere else where I could get some kind of peace. Kaloko was afraid to leave. I filled my pockets with oranges and headed west. As soon as a left the swamp, I felt as if I was covered in sorrow. I started crying instantly. I didn’t know why. I think it was because I didn’t know what the road ahead had in store for me. I walked all day and didn’t see anyone. I only heard my breathing and footsteps. Five days I walked from morning till night. My goal for each day was to not go in the direction I came from. I ran out of oranges the first day but I got more for every village I slept at. Sometimes I found cassava farms and uproot them and eat them raw. Another food item I found plentiful was coconuts. The only problem was that I didn’t know how to climb a tree. One village I came to had a lazy tree and I was so hungry and I got the coconut. I had to find something to crack it open. Luckily, I found an old machete to open it. I found a hammock and rested for awhile. When I got up, I felt good. I tried to climb the tree to get more coconuts but I couldn’t even make it pass the middle of the truck. I hadn’t laughed in a long time but this made me laugh. On the sixth day, I found people. I left the village I slept at for the night when I heard voices. I followed the direction of the voices. I got off the path and carefully walked through the forest. I stood behind the bushes when I saw them. There were eight of them down by the river—four young boys about my age (twelve years old), two girls, a man, and a woman. After watching them for awhile, I decided to go down there. I walked back to the path and headed towards them so I didn’t scare them. The first to see me was the man.  He spoke in a different language. So I told him hello in Mende, my tribal language. He didn’t say anything. I jumped in and swam. When I came up to the surface, I noticed that everyone else stopped swimming but were still in the water. I later learned that he was Mende and could understand Krio very well. I asked him what is the safest way to get to Bonthe was. Bonthe was the safest place in Sierra Leone at the time. He gave the directions. I met so many people on the way to Bonthe but I didn’t get any names.

The Most Difficult About Being in the Forest is The Loneliness

I have been walking for two days straight without sleep. I only time I stop was at streams for some water. My shadow scares me at times. It has caused me to run for miles at a time. I knew that I was hungry but I really didn’t feel like eating and I didn’t have the strength to find food. I would pass by burnt villages. I would see dead bodies of men, women, and children. I could see the fear in their eyes. It’s like even with death they haven’t escape the craziness of this place. Every time my mind goes to those things, I seem to go more rapidly. I would close my eyes to stop thinking about those things but they wouldn’t go away. My body would begin to twitch from fear then I become dizzy. On the third day, I found myself in the middle a thick forest. The trees were huge. It was difficult to look into the sky. I didn’t remember how I got there but night was approaching so I found a suitable tree that wasn’t too high and weave branches and leaves to make a bed. It was like a hammock. In the morning, I was determined to find a way out. My back was hurting from the way I slept in the tree but I went anyway. I ran into a spring and sat down for awhile to rest. I came in eye contact with a huge dark snake. I found a large stick to protect myself. The snake retreated into the bushes. I played with the leaves on ground to occupy but my mind still tormented me. So I decided to walk. I walked all morning and evening but then I found myself in the same place I slept last night. I accepted the fact that I was lost. So I decided to make my new home a bit more comfortable. I walked around a bit to familiarize myself with the area. After that I sat down to think about a way to get out of here. It didn’t go well because I was afraid to think. I decided that maybe it was better to be where I was even though I was lost and lonely but I was safe for now. The good thing was that I the spring there were a lot of trees with ripe fruits that I have never seen. There was one fruit that the birds came to eat every morning. I decided to try it and risk the fact that it could be poisonous and kill me. It was shaped like a lemon with the peal that was yellow and red. Inside was a crusty, watery, fruity part with tiny seeds. It smelled like mango or orange but it was irresistible smell. I took a bite. It didn’t tasty as good as it smelled but if was satisfying. I ate about twelve of them. After that I sat there and waited for the results. I thought about when Junior and I would go to Kabati and visit my grandfather. He taught us about medicinal leaves and trees whose bark was important medicines. He would always give us this special medicine that was supposed to enhance the brain’s ability to retain knowledge. The medicine worked. When I was in primary school and part of secondary school I was able to retain everything I learned. I would use it during the exams. It was like I had a photographic memory. I looked for one of the medicine leaves that removed poison from the body. I couldn’t find it. Nothing happened though so I decide to take a bath. I realized that the most difficult part of being in the forest is the loneliness. It became unbearable. The bad thing was that it forced me to think too much and I didn’t like to think because it was too sad. One night I tried to find a tree with forked branched to sleep in. I heard grunts all of sudden so I decided to climb a tree. A herd of wild pigs came running. It was the first time I had seen wild pigs. One large pig stopped and sniffed the air like he knew I was there. He began to charge the bottom of tree. I climb higher but after awhile they gave up. It reminded of my grandmother and the stories she used to tell. I missed my old life.

Once Again I was with a Group of Boys

I had been living in the forest for a month when I finally ran into people. Before the only living thing I encountered were animals. I was walking slowly because of hunger, back pains, and fatigue when I ran into young people about my age. We all arrived at the juncture at the same time. When we saw each other we stopped from fear, unable to run. I recognized some faces and smiled to break the tension. Out of the six boys I knew three of them: Alhaji, Musa, and Kanei. I attended Centennial secondary School with them. We weren’t close friend but we were flogged together after talking back to the senior perfect. I could tell who was from what tribe by the marks on their cheeks. Alhaji and Saidu were Temne, and Kanei, Jumah, Musa, and Moriba were Mende like me. They said that they were heading for Yele, a district in Bonthe, because it was safe because it was occupied by the Sierra Leone Armed Forces. I followed them and tried to remember their names especially of the ones I recognized before. I quickly felt uncomfortable around people. Kanei was the oldest maybe sixteen. He asked me where I have been. I smiled without answering. He tapped my shoulder like he knew what I experienced. I was with a group of boys again. This time it was seven of us. I knew this was going to cause trouble down the road. We would have to shout at people and tell them that we weren’t what they thought we were. It was impossible for us to get directions. We traveled more than six miles when we met a very old man. He could barely walk. We told us that everyone ran we they heard about the “seven boys” were coming and how we couldn’t run and everyone run without him. We explained to him want we were trying to do. He asked us to stay and keep him company. He fed us and drew us a map on how to get Yele. Kanei asked for his name so we could thank him. He didn’t give it to us. He told us to refer to him as the old man who was got left behind because he was not going to live to see the end of this war. He waved goodbye to us. I turned around to take one last look at him and saw his head down. I knew that he knew that he days were numbered. Someone started a rumor about the “seven boys.” Whenever we came towards other people we were stopped by large muscular man wanted to kill us. We had to explain that we are just boys running away from the war. Sometimes I looked at the machetes and was scared to get chopped up and sometimes I was too hungry to care. Sometimes villages would let us spend the night but the men stayed up to keep an eye on us. Also, when we went to the river mother would grab their children and run home.

The Sand is Too Hot

One morning, after we passed an abandoned village, we heard something like the roar of big engines, the rolling metal of drums, a thundering exploding, and roll after roll. We hurried into the bushes and lay on the ground. We looked to Kanei because he usually knew the answers to everything but not this. So we began to crawl towards the sound. Kanei said he saw lots of water and sand. He crawled out of the bushes and started walking on sand. It was the Atlantic Ocean. The sound was from the water hitting the shore. I had never seen the ocean before. The sky was the bluest I had ever seen. A smile started to form on my face. In the middle of all this madness, there was natural beauty. We sat at the edge of the sand and admired the waves. We ran away from where we sat because the waves would hit the shore and send particles flying high into the air. When the waves calmed down, we had fun. We wrestled and chased each other. We did somersaults and played running games. We took Alhaji’s old shirt and tied a rope around it and played soccer. We each scored a goal. We celebrated the goals with a soukous dance and we sang our secondary-school songs. We started walking on the beach early in the morning and saw the sunrise. We saw a cluster of huts and went to them. We became worried because no one in the village. Things were left scattered everywhere and fires were left unattended. Our first thoughts were that the rebels might have been there. Before we think could think of anything else, a fisherman came out from behind the huts with machetes, fishing spears, and nets in his hands. We were so shocked that we couldn’t even run. We explained to him that we are harmless and just passing by. He jabbed us with the flat edges of their weapons until we fell to the ground. They sat on top of us and tied our hand together. The villagers heard that some boys, maybe rebels, coming this way. They armed themselves and hid. We didn’t except it to happen here because it was so far away from harm. They asked us quite a few questions. Alhaji was the tallest who was mistaken for the oldest. He tried to clarify the fact that we are just passing by. After that the man yanked our shoes off and chased us out of the village. We didn’t realize how severe the punishment was until we stopped running. The sun was in the middle of the sky and it was over 120 degrees and we were barefoot. There was no shade so the sun rays directly hit the sand making it hot and loose. It was like walking on a hot tar road. We couldn’t walk in the water or the wet sand met land and the waves were too dangerous. After numerous hours, I felt became numb. I continued to walk but I could feel the soles of my feet. We walked until sunset. When I lifted my feet I felt the sand particles digging into the bleeding soles my feet. The next several miles I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Finally, we came upon a hut. None of us talked; we just walked in and sat on the logs around a fireplace. There were tears in my eyes. I looked at everyone else, they were crying also. I looked at the bottom of my feet. There was skin hanging down cover with sand and blood. It looked like someone took a blade and cut the skin in between my heel and toes. As we were looking at our feet, the owner of the hut walked in. He was about to leave then he noticed that we were suffering. Musa was cleaning the sand from his foot when the man told him to stop. He left and when he returned had a bucket of grasses. He heated the grasses and put them under our feet. The steam from the grass lessened the pain. Then he left again and returned with fried-fish soup, rice and a bucket of water. He left and returned with fishing supplies. We wanted to know how we were and where the sleeping mates were and that we would be going fishing and will return in the morning. He returned the next morning with food. He was happy see that we were getting better. We couldn’t walk well so we hobbled around and made fun of each other to avoid boredom. The pains went away by the fourth night. We stayed in a hut for a week. He would bring us water every morning and evening. He had very white teeth and shirtless all the time. We asked for his name but he said it wasn’t necessary. The next night, we had a conversation with him and learned some things about him. He was in his early twenties. He took us to the ocean. He told us to put our feet in the ocean and soak them so they could heal. We were there two weeks when his mother came running in and told us to leave. She told us that the other villagers had found out about them and are going to capture us. We were fast enough for the men to catch us. Twelve men chased us, seven boys. They wrestled us to the sand and tied our hands. Knowing that I couldn’t out run them, I offered my hands to be tied. The man was a little shock but really didn’t care that I was young child. The chief ordered us to be undressed. They found my Naughty by Nature cassette. They played it. Everyone listened to it. The chief asked me where I had gotten this music. I explained everything with my brother and friends did with it. He asked me to perform the “OPP” dance. The next song to play was “I Need Love” by LL Cool J. The chief turn his head from side to side. He looked like he liked the music. The chief let us go but said he had to leave the village. He gave me back the cassettes. As we walked, we looked at the rope marks left on our wrists and laughed about what happened to avoid crying.

To Survive Each Day

One of the most unsettling things about my journey was that I didn’t know when and where it was end. I felt like I was starting over and over again. I was always on the moving. I was always going somewhere; never staying in one place. My goal in life was to survive each passing day. At the villages, we found some food or fresh water. It made us very happy. One night I was sitting in a village square. I was thinking about how far I had come and what lies ahead for me. I looked at the night sky. There were dark clouds covering the moon but the moon would always reappear. It reminded me of my journey. I have had thick clouds all throughout my journey to make me sad and dull but I always come out on the other side. Saidu said “Every time people come at us with the intention of killing us, I close my eyes and wait for death. Even though I am still alive, I feel like each time I accept death, part of me dies. Very soon I will completely die and all that will be left is an empty body walking with you. It will be quieter than I am.” This is what most of us think. Even though our journey was hard, every once in a while, we would do something normal and would make us happy. For example, we came up to a village and the men were preparing to go hunting and invited us to go with them. When we came back, the women and children clapped for us and welcomed us back. We hung out at the village. I walked around the village by myself and found a hammock. I laid in it. I thought about when I visited my grandmother and how I would sleep in the hammock. Junior and I sometimes fight over the hammock. If he got it, I would loosen the rope so he would fall when he sat in it. I was thinking about all those things: my two brothers, my father, mother, and my grandmother. I put my hands behind my head and lay on back, trying to hold on to the memories of my family. I longed for everyone, their faces, their touch, their voice, and the wonderful moments I experienced with them. I went back to the village in the evening. They brought the food out to the village square and shared it with everyone. There was some type of celebrations happening, everyone was dancing and singing. I was wondering why everyone was being so nice to us but I didn’t want to dwell on this for too long because I wanted to enjoy myself. We sat outside on the verandah and Musa offered to tell the story of the Bra Spider. When he was done, nightfall had arrived. I stayed in a room with my friends but I didn’t sleep until really late into the night. I thought about the nights I had spent with my grandmother. Later, some days later, we talked about what the rebels did to each of us and how we got to where we are now.

The Dead Crow

One day, we agreed to walk during the night. During the day we would search for food and take turns sleeping. At night we walked along the path with the moonshine being our light. Some night the sky was full of dark thick clouds and other it sparked with thousands of stars. The sun didn’t shine like it did before because of the clouds in the blue sky would cover it. While we were looking for food, a crow fell out of the sky. It wasn’t dead but it lost its ability to fly. We knew that it was unusual but we needed food. As we took the feather off the crow, Moriba asked what day it was. We all thought out the question, trying to remember the last day we could remember. Kanei said it was a holiday. Musa explained that this day wasn’t a normal day and that we shouldn’t eat the bird. Kanei didn’t care about what Musa said and he said he was going to eat every bit of it. When Kanei was done humming, there was an eerie silence everywhere. Everything went still and quite. The night after we ate the crow was very dark. There were no stars in the sky. As we walked, it seemed like it was getting darker. We could barely see each other so we decided to hold each others’ hands. We were walking for hours when we came across a bridge made of sticks. The river blow was quiet. We took some steps on to the bridge. We heard other footsteps coming towards us from the bridge. We let go of each other and hid in nearby bushes. I was lying with Alhaji, Jumah, and Saidu. There were three people wearing white shirts. Two of them were the same height and the third was shorter. They were holding hands, too, when they came off the bridge. They stopped ad if they knew we were there. They mumbled something to each other. It was tricky to hear what they were saying because their voices we like bees. When they were done, the two taller ones starting pulling the shorter one in the different direction they wanted. After a minute, they decided to continue going in the direction we had come from. We waited a few minutes before we got out of the bushes. Kanei was calling everyone’s name. When he called Saidu, he didn’t answer. He searched for him in the bushes. He found him lying there quietly. He shook and called his name but he didn’t respond. Alhaji and Jumah began to cry. Kanei and I dragged Saidu onto the path. My hands began to tremble badly. They thought it was probably the crow they ate. Everyone else started crying but I couldn’t. I stared into the night as if I was looking for something. There was no gradual change between night and day. Saidu was still quiet. His forehead was sweaty and his mouth was slightly opened. I put my hands by his nose to see if he was breathing. They all looked as if he had die and wasn’t coming back. They didn’t want to leave him so they decided to carry him to the next village. Once we crossed the bridge, Saidu coughed. Kanei sat him down. Saidu began to vomit. We said that those people they saw last night were ghost. We said that he fainted after the ghosts starting talking. We tried to help him up but didn’t want it. He kept on saying that he was fine. It was past midday when we go to the crowded village. It was the biggest village we had come upon. We could believe how loud during the war. It was like a marketplace.  We found a place to sit away from the crowd; we saw some familiar faces. A woman told me that she knew me but I didn’t know her. She told me that we knew my family. She told me that Junior was here a few weeks ago looking for me and that my mother, father, and my little brother we in the next village. She gave us the directions. I wanted to leave immediately but we decided to stay a night so Saidu could rest. We went to the river for a swim and to play hide-and-go-seek. That night we slept on one of the verandah. I didn’t sleep. I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. Alhaji woke me up and told me dogs were barking. We stared into the night trying to see what the dogs saw. People started getting up so Alhaji and I began waking up our friends. We shook Saidu but he didn’t move. We thought he fainted again. A man came in a splashed a bucket of water on him but he didn’t move. He was lying on his stomach with his buried in the dust. The man turned him over and checked his pulse. His forehead was sweaty again. His mouth slightly opened and a dried tear path on his cheek. The man asked if Saidu knew anyone at the village and we said no. He wanted to the oldest which was Kanei. They stepped to the side. The man told him something in his ear and Kanei began to cry. Everyone started to cry. It was when we realized that Saidu had left us; he was dead. When they came back, they brought two men to carry Saidu on a wooden stretcher. His body was prepared for a burial the same day. He was wrapped in linen and placed in a wooden coffin. The man in charge of the burial asked if any of us were his family. We all shook our heads. I felt as if we were denying Saidu. He had become our family but the man wanted his real family member. Kanei was the only one who knew his family. The man called him over. I was trying to read the gestures to figure out what they were talking about. We were the only ones to attend the burial along with the man verandah we slept on. I could believe that Saidu was never coming back. It really hit me when they lowered him into the hole. I began to cry quietly. Kanei explained that Saidu had to be buried because it was a custom of the village. We walked up and down the village. I thought about when he was talking about how pieces of him die and when he dies completely it will be an empty body and he will be quiet. I thought about that night when we saw those ghosts and he fainted. It made me shake. Kanei told us that he would leave after sunrise. That morning we thanked the man who helped bury Saidu. As we left everyone in the village lined up to watch us leave. We went to the cemetery to see Saidu one last time. We were leaving our friend.

I Watched Them Burn in Front of Me

We walked in silence through the night. As we sat on the edge of the path, Moriba began to sob. He usually sat away from us with Saidu. Everyone started crying except for me. I covered my face with my hands to hold my tears back. After everyone stopped crying, we continued walking. The Alhaji broke the silence talking about what he will do when he sees his mother. None of us could wait until we got to the next village. We all wanted to see our families. Kanei heard that Alhaji had beautiful sisters and was teasing about getting with them. We played and sang for awhile but the silence did return. One side of the sky was blue and the other was filled stagnant clouds. There was a quiet breeze that snapped a branch that sounded like someone wailing. The breeze picked up its pace which intensified the wailing. The trees looked like they were in pain. The clouds rolled over the sky and it became dark. A heavy rain came after that with thunder and lightning. It lasted for less than fifteen minutes. At night, it rained again. It was too hard to continue so he sat at the foot of a large tree and waited for the storm to pass. We were soaked by the time the rain stopped. We found some sun to let our clothes dry in. By midday, we put our damp clothes on and walked a few hours before we were finally approaching the village. The village where are family was. I couldn’t stop smiling. I saw footprints on the path. We heard rice being pounded and whisper in the wind. We walked faster. We came across a man cutting down hands of ripe bananas. His face was behind a banana left so he could see him. We said hello. I knew this man from my old village. His face was a little wrinkled and skinner. His name was Ngor (kind of like Mr.) Gasemu. He used to be one of the notorious single men in my town. When he got on the path he smiled, I knew it was him because he was missing a front tooth. He asked us to carry the bananas back to the village. We started talking. We told me that my parents and brothers will be happy to see. We walked slowly and I wanted to drop the bananas and run as fast as I could to the village. After a few minutes, we reached a river. I was really excited because at the edge of every village are rivers. Gasemu said that the village was just over the hill. It was a long hill with rocks on both sides; some of the rocks were immovable. I followed the path with my eyes and I saw thatched roofs which meant that that was the village. I walked fast so I could be in front. As we were going down the path, I heard gunshots. People were screaming and crying. We dropped the bananas and starting running. Thick smoke started to rise above the village. Sparks and flames leapt into the air. We hid in nearby bushes and listened. The gunshots finally stopped. I wanted to the village but Gasemu held me back. I shoved him into the bushes and ran as fast as I could. When we got to the village, it was on fire and bullet shells were all over the ground. Gasemu and my friend followed me. As we watched the flames roar, we heard screams and loud banging a few house away. The people were looked it in. We grabbed a rice mortar and banged the door open. It was too late, only a woman and a young child came out. They were on fire; slamming themselves against everything to take out the fire. The woman stopped and fell. The child gave a loud screech and sat next to a tree and didn’t move. Gasemu wandered off to the side of the village. We found twenty people face down in the ground and blood pouring out of their heads. Gasemu began to cry. We found remains of the people trying to take the fire off them. Gasemu pointed out the house that my family stayed in. The fire house was on fire. My body went into shock. I fell to the ground. I ran towards the house. I kicked and punched the walls that we were still burning. I screamed at the top of my lungs and cry loudly. My heart felt like it was going to explode. I thought if I hadn’t stop at the hill and if I hadn’t ran into Gasemu, I would have been able to see my family. I didn’t know what happened to me. I put Gasemu in a headlock. He pushed me next to a pestle. I pick it up and threw it at him. His nose began to bleed. My friends pinned me to the ground. Some said it was Gasemu and other said it wasn’t. I didn’t care; I just wanted to see my family even if I was going to dying with them. My friends started fighting amongst themselves. Gasemu stopped it and said it was none of our faults. After he said that, we heard loud voices. He ran into the nearby coffee field. They were rebels. They were talking about how they burnt three villages. They decide to stay and hang out. Someone moved and the dried leaves made a noise. Two started walking towards us. They walked fast and crouched down. Bullets came towards us too. Gasemu was in front so we followed him. We ran for hours. It was nighttime so we could see the redness of the bullets. They finally stopped because of the rain. We spent the night in the rain under bushes. Gasemu began to cry. We picked him up to see why he was crying. He had been shot. Alhaji asked me to hold the wound so the blood flow would stop but it didn’t work. He stopped cry but tears still flowed. Musa could stand that sight of blood so he fainted. Gasemu want us to take him to the wahlee (the person who processes the coffee beans). By midday, he was heaving. He asked us to put him down. He started rolling forth from pain then he stopped. He was lying on his back and staring into the sky. His body began to shake then he stopped. His arms were cold but he was still bleeding and sweating. We all know what happened to him. We took him to the wahlee. I sat there with his blood on my hands. I regretted hitting him with the pestle. I started to cry. I just sat there, next to him. I didn’t sleep at all that night. For a few minutes I tried to imagine what it felt like for Gasemu when his fingers vibrated to let the last breather out of his body.

It Seemed We Had Finally Found Safety at Yele.

We have been walking for days; suddenly two men put us at gunpoint and motioned for us to come closer. We walked in between two rows of men carrying machine guns, AK-47s, G3s, and RPGs. Their faces were extremely dark and their eyes were very red. We got to the back of the line. There were four men lying on the ground with the guts spilled out. I turned my head only to see another man’s head had been smashed. His brain was still pulsating and he was breathing. I felt nauseated. One of the soldiers threw water in my face. Gunshots came from somewhere close so the soldiers moved and took us with them. We came to a river where we saw a boat. We saw eleven and thirteen year old boys in army shorts piled by the river. Then more gunshots fired. We got into the boat. An RPG came out of the bushes. A man in army pants was running down toward the boat. A man in the boat started shooting at the man, and then the boat started going downstream. A soldier led us to Yele. This village was occupied by the military. It had more than ten houses. In the beginning, it seemed like we finally found safety in Yele. It was a lively place. Adults and soldiers were having everyday conversations with each other. All that darkened the mood of the village was the sight of the orphaned children. There were over thirty boys between seven and sixteen years old. I was one of them. We stayed in an unfinished cement house. We slept on the cement floors with a tiny blanket that was for two people. The soldiers would separate themselves from the civilians. In the evening they watched movies, played music, laughed and had fun, and smoked marijuana. The children had to help in the kitchen during the day. Kanei and I would fetch water and wash the dishes. Our friends would cut onions, eggplants, and meat. I liked keeping busying because it distracted me from the bad thoughts that gave me severe headaches. By midday everything was done. The evening was when all the fun began. There were soccer games and children and parents talking and playing. I distanced myself from the village games. I would go behind the house and stare at empty spaces and wait until my migraines went away. I didn’t tell anybody about my migraines. When the sergeant doctor came, he called out fever, cold, and other illnesses but he never asked for migraines or nightmares. At night, my friends would play marbles. I would seat in the corner and try not to show my pain. I had nightmare where I would wake up sweating and unable to sleep. One morning the village became tense. Something had changed. All the soldiers were in the village square with their backpacks and weapons. I heard the drill instructors when I went to go fetch water. Then Lieutenant Jabati stood in front of all the men and talked to them for hours. When the lieutenant talked to the men, we did our chores quietly mainly for us to eavesdrop. In the evening, the soldiers cleaned the guns and would send random gunshots into the air. Lieutenant Jabati would sit on the verandah and read. He saw me watching him and asked me to come over. He was reading Julius Caesar. I read in school. I started to recite some of it to him. I thought about when I used to recite Shakespeare when I was younger. After our conversation I went back to go to sleep. I was awake when the soldiers left in the middle of the night. That night was quiet. I woke up to the soldiers coming back or at least by the ones who did come back. Everything they cleaned was covered in dirt. The soldiers were going mad right in front of my eyes. By midday twenty more soldiers had arrived. Then the soldiers prepared themselves and went to war. Then they would come back with wounded soldiers, prisoners, and ammunition. These went on for some days. One day, Lieutenant Jabati addressed everyone. We said that they needed the boys and young men to help them in this war. We stood there in silence. My friends and I went inside and talked about what we were going to do. The next day, they came with another order from the lieutenant. The lieutenant had some bodies with him and showed them to everyone to show what the rebels are capable of doing.

I Became a Soldier

After the lieutenant’s speech, all the girls and women were asked to report in the kitchen and men and boys to the ammunition department. When we came to the building, a soldier with a G3 stood in the doorway and shot a couple rounds into the air. When we walked in, there were tents everywhere. The building was roofless. Guns were stacked across the wall. The only common place was a huge TV set that was on top of a dilapidated drum. The soldiers came out to lead us back to the house. There were thirty boys. Two of them were Sheku and Josiah, who were seven and eleven. The rest of us were between thirteen and sixteen, except Kanei who was seventeen now. A soldier handed each of us an Ak-47. My hands were trembling. He also gave me magazines and my hands trembled some more. That night I stood outside my tent hoping that my friends would come out and talk to me. Alhaji came out. He looked in my direction for a few minutes then went back into the tent. I took a deep breath and I got the scent of marijuana thrown at me. It was the first night that I woke up without a migraine. I shared a tent with Sheku and Josiah. They were still sleeping with the 6:00 a.m. training bell rang. I had to drag them out of bed and slap them until they woke up. When we got to the training group, we received new crapes and army shorts and T-shirts. I got a black Reebok Pump T-shirt. I was very excited about my crapes because my old ones were torn and falling apart. When I was putting on my new pants, a soldier took my old pants that had my rap cassettes in them, and he burned them. I ran towards the fire but it was too late. I cried. After that, we got our backpacks to fill with as ammunition we could put it in without it being too heavy. We ate breakfast really quick and then went to train. During the exercises, Sheku and Josiah watched me instead of Corporal Gadafi. We ran around the building then crawled in the bushes. We had to crawl quickly without making sound. After that we had to go to our late breakfast. We had to eat everything within one minute. It was the only part of the training I mastered. After that they gave us another AK-47. This time, during our training, we had to carry our gun. Sheku and Josiah could barley carry the gun. They kept on dropping it and picking it back up. They took us to a nearby banana farm. We practiced stabbing the bananas with bayonets. They told us to visualize it as the person who killed our families. That afternoon we learned how to put in magazines and other basic skills. That night Sheku and Josiah practiced the drills we learned today.

First Time In Battle

It had to be Sunday because we took a day off of training. We went to the village square and started a soccer game. We stopped our game to salute him and then carried on. After the game we decided to go the river for a swim to cool off from the game. A corporal called us out of the river. He said our holiday was over. When we got to the village, they gave us our AK-47s and our backpacks and wrist packs. Two crates of ammunition were set out. The corporal told us to take as much as can but not too much still be able to run fast. All the boys, except Alhaji, we excited because they thought we were getting ready for a drill. Alhaji and I knew what was happening. The corporal handed all of us head ties. He told us that if he see someone without the head ties to shoot them. Sheku fell backwards because he had too much ammunition in his backpack. After that, we sat on the ground. It seemed like everyone went into their own train-of-thought. Sheku and Josiah sat next to me with their watery eyes. I got up and walked to my friends. We made a pact that no matter what, we would try and stay together. A young soldier came around with a plastic bag filled with some kind of tablets. They were white tablets. He told us to take them. He said it will boost our energy. When we were done, it was time to leave. When we were leaving a baby started crying uncontrollably as if he knew want was in stores for us. I have never been so scared in my life. A lizard running across my path made me jump. Tears began to come out of eyes and I gripped my gun for some kind of comfort. We walked into the forest holding our guns like it gave us our strength. The lieutenant raised his fist and we slowly kneeled on one knee so we could survey the forest. We moved to the swamp inaudibly and formed the plan of ambush. When we were lying there, a pain came above my eye then spread to the rest of my head. My ears became warm and then I tears were running down my face but I wasn’t crying. Our fingers were caressing the trigger like hunters watching our prey. The silence tormented me. The trees began to shake; the rebels are coming, but we couldn’t see them. We saw a group of men dressed in civilian clothes waving their hands. The lieutenant ordered for a RPG to be fired. It exploded and a few bodies went into the air. After the fire, both sides started shooting. I was lying there unable to shoot. Everything began to spin. I held onto a tree because I felt like I was going to fall if the ground moved at all. I could hear people dying of pain. I felt like I was in a nightmare. A splash of blood hit my face. My mouth was opened a little bit; I tasted blood. I spat it out then a soldier came towards me with multiply bullets holes. Blood was pouring out of them like rushing water. All of a sudden I heard Josiah scream. He screamed for his mother in the most piercing voice. I felt my brain shake. Bodies began to pile on top of each other. I looked for Josiah. A RPG had tossed his body off the ground and he landed on a tree stump. He shook his legs as he cried. Then his cry stopped. His eyes were full of tears. His lips were shaking but he couldn’t speak. There was blood all over the place. He reached for my shoulder as if he wanted me to help him up. Midway he stopped; a bullet pierced his body. I covered his eyes with my hand. His backbone was shattered. I didn’t realize that I stood up to pick him up. The corporal tugged my pants to get me to go down. He told me to get down and shoot. Then I got a glimpse of Musa. He was covered in blood. His hands looked too relaxed like he had done this before. There was a gunman running trying to cross over. I raised my gum and shot him; I killed him. Once I did that, everything that had had to me flashed back into my mind. I kept on see my dead friends. I shot everything that moved until we had to retreat. We took the ammunition of the dead bodies and left them. Then we crouched down and planed another ambush. When they got close, we shot them. Some we chased into the swamp, where we lost them. Again we flipped bodies and took the ammunition. I wasn’t afraid of the dead bodies. I despised them and kicked them to flip them over. I noticed that most gunmen and boys wore a lot of jewelry. We lost a few adult soldiers and Musa and Josiah. We arrived in the village at night. We sat against the wall. We were quiet. We started cleaning our guns. I went to dinner unable to eat. I stumbled and my knee bled but I didn’t feel anything. That night, I slept with my AK-47 on my chest and the G3 I brought back next to me. I had a bad dream. I began shooting inside the tent until the thirty rounds were out. Then the corporal and lieutenant splashed water in my face and gave me a few more white tablets. I didn’t sleep for a week. The next two times that week I had no problem shooting.

Actually Acting Like a Soldier

The migraines stopped as my daily activities were replaced with soldierly things. In the daytime, instead of playing soccer, I took turns guarding posts around the village, smoking marijuana and brown brown (cocaine mixed with gunpowder). Also we would take white capsules. I had become addicted to them. The first time I took all these drugs at the same time, I sweated so much that I had to take off my clothes. My body shook and my vision blurred. I would lose my hearing for several minutes at a time. I couldn’t sleep for weeks. At night we would watch war movies like Rambo: First Blood, Rambo II, Commando, and movies like that. We liked Rambo because we like to learn new techniques and wanted to try them out. When we ran out of things, we would raid the rebels’ camps. Before we got to a rebel camp, we would deviate from the path and walk inside the forest. We would go on the lieutenant’s command. I would shot as many people as I could. We would search the houses and gather gallons of gasoline for the generator, huge amounts of marijuana and cocaine, clothes, crapes, watches, rice, dried fish, salt, gari (African food), and a lot of other things. We would round up the civilians and make them carry it. One time, we had rebel prisoners. We tied them until their chest was as tight as drums. One of them spat on the corporal. The corporal immediately shot him in the head. We all cheered for him for his fierceness. Suddenly Lansana, one of the boys, was shot in the chest and head by a rebel hiding in the bushes. We found the rebel and the lieutenant slit his throat. After that, we set fire to the rebel village. I felt special because I was part of something that me seriously and I wasn’t running from anyone anymore. One morning after the lieutenant’s speech, we practiced the lieutenant’s way of killing prisoners. There were five prisoners. The corporal choose Kanei, three other boys, and me. We supposed to slice their throats on the corporal’s command. Whoever’s prisoner died the quickest won. We had to look into the eyes of each prisoner. I didn’t feel a thing throughout the contest. I thought that he was another rebel who was responsible for the death of my family. The corporal gave his command. His Adam’s apple made the line jagged. He leaned on me with his last breath. I dropped him and wiped my blade on him. I was the winner and Kanei was in second. I was ranked as junior lieutenant and Kanei was named junior sergeant. We celebrated with drugs and war movies. I had a tent to myself. I never slept in there because sleep never came to me. Lansana used to hum until he went to sleep. Some nights the wind would bring them to me. I would listen for awhile then shot some rounds that would drive the hums away.

“The villages that we captured and turned into bases as we went along and the forests that we slept in became my home. My squad was my family, my gun was my provider and protector, and my rule was to kill or be killed. The extent of my thoughts didn’t go much beyond that. We had been fighting for over two years, and killing had become a daily activity. I felt no pity for anyone. My childhood had gone by without my knowing, and it seemed as of my heart had frozen. I knew that day and night came and went because of the presence of the moon and the sun, but I had no idea whether it was a Sunday or a Friday. In my head my life was normal.”

This was the most powerful part in the whole book. It stated in a few words what the effects of this war were for the children involved. It talks about the way they change from innocent little creatures to savage beasts basically wanting to kill and get blood. It makes me think of what it would be like to have a conversation with a current child soldier. Would I even make it out of the conversation without any cuts? Will he let me talk to him about something so serious? Will he justify this statement? He is amazing how we could summarize the most horrific part of his life in a few simply words.

What’s Happening?

Everything changed in the last weeks of January 1996. I was fifteen. One morning, I left with twenty squad members for Bauya to get ammunition. Alhaji and Kanei came, too. We were excited because we would get to see our old friend Jumah. He was stationed now. He wanted to hear his stories and we wanted to know how many people he had killed. Also I was looking forward to see the lieutenant. I hoped we could take about Shakespeare. We arrived just before sunset and waited in the bushes as our commander went ahead to make sure our colleagues wouldn’t shoot us. The commander came back and motioned us to come. The cement houses were bigger than the ones in the other villages. We found Jumah sitting in a hammock. There was a semiautomatic machine gun. He seemed lost in his thoughts. We walked slowly so we wouldn’t scare him. He heard our footsteps and turned around. He looked like we had gotten older and he had stopped nodding when he spoke. Alhaji and Kanei went to go eat, so I stayed and talked with Jumah. We talked for awhile then we had to report in the village square. We found Alhaji and Kanei, who were already smoking. Lieutenant Jabati was there. I got a little excited to see him. When he finally came to me, he shook my hand tight and began to recite Shakespeare. After that, my friends and I partied all night. We smoked and sniffed cocaine and brown brown, which Bauya had a lot of. Before the morning Jumah went on a raid. My friends and I said our goodbyes. Few hours later, a truck came to the village. Four men dressed in clean blue jeans and white UNICEF T-shirts came out. One was a white man and another was light-skinned possibly Lebanese. The two other were nationals, one with tribal marks on his cheeks, the other with marks on his hands. The men were too clean to be part of the war. The lieutenant had some type of meeting with them. Then he gave us an order. The boys that we choose had to go to a separate line. I was chosen. Alhaji was picked but not Kanei, maybe because he was older. We told us to remove the magazines in our gun and put the guns on the ground. When we did that, the two foreigners started smiling. The lieutenant told us that our work here was done and was going to send us off and put us in school and to find another life. After his talk, the soldiers strip us. I hid my bayonet in my pants. When one of the soldiers came to me, I pushed him and told him if he touched me I would kill him. We were all so confused about what was happening. They gathered us together to make sure no one would runaway. As we pushed to the trucks, I looked back at the verandah where the lieutenant was standing wondering why. I became angry because I didn’t know what was happening and I had never parted from my gun since the day I became a soldier. In the truck, there were three MPs (city soldiers). I could tell because their pants were tucked into their boots and there gun was clean. I assumed their gun had never been fired because it was too clean. I looked at their gun with envy. Then the truck started moving. I had no idea where we were going. We were driving for hours. I got used to walking places and hadn’t sat in a truck doing nothing. I loathed it. When I felt like taking a MP’s gun, we would stop at a checkpoint. There were some many checkpoints. At the last checkpoint, there were soldiers dressed in complete army gear. We drove past it onto a busy road. There were so many cars everywhere—like Mercedes, Toyotas, Mazdas, and Chevrolets. They were cars honking and music blasting. I didn’t know where we going but I was sure we were in Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone. It was getting dark outside. I was astonished about how many lights were on. I watched the lights for a few minutes then we stopped. The MPs asked us to get down and follow the guys in the UNICEF shirts. We walked into a fenced compound with many houses. The Lebanese-looking guy motioned for us to follow him into the house where he gave us a twin-sized bed and a locker. In the kitchen, we sat on one side of the long dining table. The man went into a little room and brought out bowls of rice. By the time we got his food, we had already finished. We sat quietly for a minute then Alhaji asked anyone if they had any cocaine or marijuana. One boy had some and passed it around but it wasn’t enough. Then Alhaji asked where they could get good drugs at this place. When we pondered the question, the man brought in another group of boys. The man asked who was smoking marijuana but no one answered. Alhaji asked where the other boys where from to break the silence. The boy came at Alhaji aggressively and rude. Alhaji pushed him and that when all hell broke loose. The boy fell. When he got back up, he pulled a bayonet out of his pants and jumped on the table toward Alhaji. We all stood up, ready to fight. I took my grenade and put my finger on the pin. I threaten the other boys. Alhaji brought up the point that we all fought on the same side. Then we all calmed down. The man who brought us food was stilling at the edge of the table shaking. The boy fighting with Alhaji was named Mamba. He later became one of my best friends.

Fighting Again

We were talking about why our commanders sent us off with civilians. Mambu said that he was a civilian because he didn’t wear civilian clothes. One boy said he was in the RUF (rebels). He took off his shirt like he was going to fight him. Mambu shouted that they were rebels. The boy punched Mambu in the face. His nose was bleeding. The rebel boys drew their bayonets. They ran towards us. It was like war all over again. I threw my grenade at them but the explosion was delayed. We went into the yard where we fought. A boy grabbed my neck and squeezed hard enough to kill me. I couldn’t get a good grasp on my bayonet so I elbowed him in the stomach. He fell to the ground then I stabbed him in the foot. The bayonet was stuck. So I kicked him in the face and pulled it out with force. Someone came behind me and sliced my hand. Alhaji stabbed him in the back. Then we kicked him until he didn’t move. Three MPs and the two nationals came out and stopped the fight. We attacked the MPs, pulled them to the ground, and took their guns. The army boy got one, the rebel got one, and the third ran way before we got to him. Mambu got a gun. Before the rebel could swith the safety off Mambu shot him. The rebel boy dropped the gun and the other rebels tried to get it; Mambu shot all who tried to get it. He killed a few and wounded some. Then another rebel got the gun and shot two boys on my side. More MPs came. We fought for twenty minutes. The MP shot a few rounds into the air to stop us but we kept on fighting. Then they placed us at gunpoint and forced us apart. Six people died: two on my side and four rebels. Many were wounded including the two people who brought us here. I had a little wound on my hand but I hid it because I didn’t want to go to the hospital. That night we praised Mambu for his lethal behavior. The army boys went to the kitchen for some food and talked about the fight. Mamba talked about we plucked the rebel’s eye. We laughed and picked Mambu up. In the middle of this, MPs asked us to follow them. Their guns were pointed at us but we just laughed and walked outside. There was a military vehicle waiting for us. Alhaji thought we were going to back to the front lines. They took us to Benin House. It was a rehabilitation center in Kissy town. There, the MPs made sure to search us thoroughly. The blood of the victims was still fresh. That night the MPs guarded us. Mambu asked the MPs if they had any marijuana but they ignored him. The drugs that we smoked last night had begun to subside. My head began to hurt.

I Woke Up in the Hospital

It made me angry to be told what to do by a civilian. I would punch the wall, my locker, or anything that was in close range. We refused to do whatever they asked us to do except eat. We were unhappy because we needed our drugs. At the end of every meal, the nurses and staff members would come and talk about attending schedule medical checkups and one-on-one counseling sessions that we hated. When they started speaking, we would throw spoons, bowls, food, and benches at them. We would chase them out and beat them up. Because we were so violent and they were scared of us, we were left to wander about our new environment for the first week. I craved marijuana and cocaine. I craved it so badly that I would roll a piece of paper and smoke it. We broke into the mini-hospital and stole some pain relievers and red and yellow capsules. We would ground then mix them. We got madder and madder by each day. We would beat up people in the neighborhood just because. They stopped walking pass the center because they were scared. We would fight all the time for no reason. During the fights we would destroy everything. After the fights, we would bring our mattresses outside and sit on them until breakfast. One night, it began to rain and the next day it wasn’t very sunny so our mattresses didn’t dry. We went to Poppay, man in charge of storage, and demanded dry mattresses. He said we had to wait. We got angry and fought him. A security guy took him to the hospital. He returned some days later with a smile on his face and said,” It is not your fault that you did such a thing to me.” I hated when the staff members we say that. My hands had begun to shook and my migraines returned worse than before. They were unbearable. One day I decided to break the windows in the classroom. I broke many panes then my hand got stuck. I managed to get it out but I was losing a lot of blood. I had to go to the hospital. I stole the first-aid kit and fixed myself up but the nurse was there. She made me sit on the counter as she removed the pieces of glass from my hand. She would look at me searching for any sense of pain. I didn’t feel a thing. I just wanted to stop bleeding. The nurse bandaged me up and asked me to come back the next day so she could change it. I didn’t come back. My body was aching, my throat hurt, and I felt nauseated. I threw up something green and slimy then I fainted. I woke up in the hospital to the same nurse. She said that I could leave if I wanted to. I couldn’t move. I was getting weak then my eyes grew heavy. I woke up to the nurse whispering to someone. I was so confused, I didn’t know what time of the day it was. My head was pulsating. I asked the nurse how long I had been there. She helped me sit up and then I saw a soldier. He was obliviously a city soldier. He was a lieutenant and supposedly there to check on how we were being treated medically and psychologically but he looked more interested in the nurse. He reminded me of the times I was a junior lieutenant. I was in charge of a small unit. All of my friends were in my unit. During this time, I acquired the nickname “Green Snake” because I would situate myself in the most advantageous and sneaky positions and would take out a whole village from under a tiny shrub without being noticed. Alhaji got the name “Little Rambo” because of what he did during the raids. When the lieutenant and the nurse were talking, I got up and walked out but the lieutenant and nurse started talking to me. The nurse told me to drink a lot of water. The lieutenant asked how I liked here. I looked at him in disgust and spat on the ground and I walked back to the hall. We were still traumatized even though we went through the withdrawal stage. The memories of war began to come back. When I was turn on the tap, all I could see was blooding gushing out of it. Before I took a shower or drank water, I would stare at it until it looked I like water. Sometimes boys would be screaming that the rebels are coming. Other time, they would cry and say that the rocks are there dead family members. Then we would tie up the staff members and asked the whereabouts of our squads and where they got their supplies.

We Were Awestricken

They would give us school supplies. We usually made campfires out of them but they would always give us more supplies. One day Mambu suggested that we sell them. I told him no one would buy them because everyone is scared of us. Mambu said that we would get a trader to do our business for us. Then my friends and I put are supplies in a plastic bag and sold it to a vendor. We were so happy that we got that money, we even smelled them. Mambu shared the money with everyone. Everyone talked about what we were going to do with the money. Some boys brought little treats while Mambu, Alhaji and I planned a trip to Freetown. The next morning we ate our breakfast fast. I pretended that I was going to the mini-hospital. Mambu went to the kitchen and climbed out the windows and Alhaji went to the bathroom. We met at the juncture down the street and waited for the bus. None of us have been to Freetown before. We got off on Kissy Street. When we got off the bus, the city was loud, music blasting and people talking loudly like a marketplace. A man in the aisle began to dance and others joined including Mambu. We were overwhelmed about what we were seeing. We walked slowly to admire it. We went all the way to the Cotton Tree, the national symbol of Sierra Leone and landmark of the capital. We were awestricken because we have only seen this on the back of our money. We brought ice cream and Vimto drinks. It was hard to eat the ice cream because it was melting to fast. I spent most of the time licking it off of me. We walked all day and Alhaji and Mambu would ask me when we should stop and which way to go. I was in front the whole time. I felt like a squad leader again. We arrived back at the center in time for dinner. As we walked to the bus, we realized that we didn’t have enough money for the bus fare. We decided to sit in the front so we could jump off when the conductor came to get the money. When the bus was about to come to our stop, the conductor asked for those who were getting off to raise their hands. He walked down the aisle taking the money. The bus stopped and the conductor stood at the door so no one who didn’t pay would get off.  I walked up to him and put my hand in my pocket then pushed him to the side and ran. He chased for awhile and then gave up. We were laughing. We told the boys about Freetown. Everyone was excited and wanted to go to the city too.

Memories of War

For some reason our school supplies weren’t selling. Even when we lowered our prices, no one would buy them. Now school was a requirement if you for weekend trips to the city. It was an informal school. In math, we learned addition, multiplication, and long division. In English, we read passages and learned how to spell words. Sometimes the teacher would read stories aloud and we would write them in our notebooks. They school was to refresh our memories. We didn’t have to pay attention. We just had to be there so we could take our trips to the city. We fought each other in the middle of class. Sometimes we would stab each other with pencils. The teacher would continue teaching and ultimately stop the fight. The he would say, “It’s not your fault that you cannot sit still in class. You will be able to do so in time.” It would make us angrier so we threw pencils at him as he left. After class, we would go to lunch then play table tennis or soccer to busy ourselves. At night, some of us would wake up from nightmare screaming, sweating and punching our head to get the images out of our minds. Some boys would wake up and choke the person next to their bed. Even in the morning, they would find many boys hiding in the grasses by the soccer field. They didn’t remember how they got there. I would greatly try to think about my childhood but all I could think of was what happened in the war. The war memories had formed a barrier that I had to break in order to think about any moments in my life before the war.

Esther the Nurse

I had been to the hospital since I walked a few months ago. One afternoon, in the middle of a table tennis game, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was the nurse. She was wearing a white uniform and a white hat. It was the first time I really looked at her. She had white teeth and dark skin. She was tall and had big brown eyes. When she smiled, her beauty increased and her charm glowed. She gave me a Coca-Cola. She told me to come and see her whenever I felt like it and walked away. Alhaji and I went outside and sat on a rock drinking a cold Coca-Cola. Alhaji said that she likes me and asked me if I liked. I said that I didn’t know. He asked me if I was afraid of women. I told him that I don’t think that she likes me in that way. We finished the drink. Alhaji left and I went to the hospital. When I walked, I saw that she was on the phone. She motioned me to come in. I noticed that there was a chart on the wall with all the names of the boys of the center. There were boxes next to the names. There was a check in the boxes indicating that they have attended at least one session. There wasn’t a check in the box next to my name. The nurse took the chart and put it into drawer. She pulled her chair to me and asked me what name was. I told her she knew my name, which she did. She insisted I tell of I did. She told me her name is Esther. I asked her if she really wanted to be my friend. Then she said maybe not. It was quiet for awhile after that. I didn’t know what to say. At this point of my life I didn’t trust anyone. I ignored her and stared out the window. She said,” I am your nurse and that’s all. If you want to be friends with me, you will have to ask me and I will have to trust you first.” I smiled. She told me that I had a nice smile and should smile more often. I stopped smiling. She asked me if I wanted anything from the city. I didn’t answer. That was the end of our first session. A few days later she gave me a present. I was watching the boys play volleyball. Alhaji just came back from his session with Nurse Esther and he told me that she said I should see her. I continued watching the volleyball game. Alhaji pulled me all the way to the hospital. Alhaji pushed me in and ran away laughing. I was on the ground then I saw Esther sitting at her desk. She threw a package at me. I opened it and found out it was a Walkman and a rap cassette. I jumped up and hugged her. I asked her how she knew that I liked that stuff. She had asked my friends before about me. The cassette was Run D.M.C. I started bobbing my head to the beat. Esther said that she was going to examine me while I listen to the music. I did everything she told me to do. When she got to my leg, she saw scars. She asked me how a got them. I told her that they were bullet wounds like it was nothing. She wanted to know how I got them. Her eyes were glued on me. I told her the whole story. By the end of it she was in tears. She told me that if I wanted to tell her anything to go right ahead. She said,” None of what happened was your fault. You were just a little boy.” I hated when they would say that. I regretted telling her the story. I started to walk out but then she stopped me. She told me to keep my Walkman at the hospital so the other boys wouldn’t steal it. That night I tried to think of my childhood. I couldn’t. I thought about the first time I slit a man’s throat. The scene kept on replaying in my head. I went to my bed and stared at the wall to try to stop think about then I had a severe migraine. I couldn’t even walk because it was so painful. I began to cry. The night nurse gave me sleeping pills, but I couldn’t sleep even when my migraine stopped. I was too afraid to face my nightmare. Esther got me to tell her my nightmares. She would never ask questions in the middle of my story. If she had any questions, she would ask at the beginning.

Freetown with Esther and Alhaji

One afternoon Esther didn’t have to work. She came to the center wearing a jean skirt instead of her uniform. She came in a Toyota with two men. One was a driver and the other was a field-worker for Children Associated with the War (CAW). It was a catholic organization that worked with UNICEF and NGOs to make center like Benin House. She said that we were going to the hospital for an exam then a tour of the city. I asked if Alhaji could come; she said yes. As we were driving to Freetown, the field-worker introduced himself as Leslie. He was seating in the passenger seat. He watched Alhaji, Esther, and I in the rearview mirror.  Esther was between Alhaji and I. Esther put her arms around Alhaji and I. Esther pointed out the post office, shops, the UN building, and the Cotton Tree at the center of the city. We finally arrived at the hospital. The doctor kept on asking me if I felt anything when he touched or squeezed body parts where I have been shot. I was getting upset. When we finished, I put my clothes back on and went to the waiting room where Esther, Alhaji, and Leslie were. Esther pulled my nose to cheer me up. We went to the market that we pasted on the way. I spent most of my time looking at all the cassettes. Leslie bought me Bob Marley’s Exodus cassettes. I grew up listen to reggae music and tried to remember the songs. My head began to hurt. Esther noticed my pain and took the cassette from me and put it in her bag. She bought us each a cold Coca-Cola. I was happy. I smiled all the way back to the center. During the car ride, Leslie told me that he was assigned to me and a few other boys. His job was to find me a place to live after I completed my rehabilitation. He told me that if I wanted to contact him just go Esther and she will call him. Before she left, Esther pulled me to the side and told me that she was going to keep my Bob Marley cassette and to come by and listen to it. The next we went back to the city. I went to the hospital after class and waited for Esther. She was surprised to see me waiting for her. She told me that the doctor sent her the results and that there was nothing seriously wrong with me. Then she gave me my Bob Marley cassette and my Walkman. She also gave me a pen and notebook to write down the lyrics. I learned that she learned about me through the informal schooling. We were given a questionnaire as an exam. After that, I began looking forward to seeing Esther. We would memorize songs. I was good because I didn’t have much time to think about the war. As I grew more comfortable with Esther, we spent more talking about music instead of war. Leslie would come by twice a week and we would go over the lyrics to Bob Marley songs. I liked when we would tell me about the history of Rastafarianism. He would tell me the history of Ethiopia and the story of the meeting of the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon. I could relate to them because of their long distances that they had to travel and their determination. I wish my journey was more meaningful and filled with merriment. One night I had a nightmare about my brother and my family. The next afternoon I wanted to see Esther. When she saw me, she knew that something was bothering and asked me if I wanted to lie down. She asked me if I wanted to tell her or talk about it loud like she wasn’t there. I began to tell her about my nightmare. After that, she said, “None of these things are your fault.” I have heard it from everyone before but this time I actually believe it. The more I spoke about my experiences to Esther, the more I began to cringe at the gruesome details. I only liked talked to her about those things because I felt like she didn’t judge me. She looked at me as if I was a child and not a bad little kid who did some much wrong. One evening she took me to her house and made me dinner. After dinner, we went for a walk in the city. We looked at the sky and its shapes. I saw a mother holding her baby. I didn’t look at the lights on the way back. I looked at the sky. When I little, my grandmother told me that the sky speaks to those who look and listen to it. She would said, “In the sky there are always answer and explanations for everything: every pain, every suffering, joy, and confusion.” That night I wanted the sky to talk to me.

Spokesperson of the Center

I had been at Benin House for five months. One day I was sitting in the back of a classroom when Esther walked in. She sat by me and didn’t say anything. I told her, “I feel as if there is nothing left for me to be alive for. I have no family, it is just me. No one will be able to tell stories about my childhood.” She put her arms around me and pulled me close. She told me to think of her as my family like a sister. I said she can be my temporary sister. She told me to come by and visit her and covered her face as if she would be sad if I said no. I said yes then she laughed. Her laugh reminded me of Abigail. She was a girl I went to secondary school with. I wished Esther was Abigail so we could talk about the past before the war. Sometimes when Esther was busy with paperwork, I would stare at her. When she knew that I was staring, she would throw folded paper at me without looking in my direction. I would pick it up and put it in my pocket as if it had a note written on it. The next day, Esther told me that there were going to be visitors at the center and that the staff was holding a talent show. I told her that I would recite a Shakespeare monologue. By this I had fallen for Esther but I didn’t show it. Mambu and Alhaji would make fun of me and would call her my girlfriend. The visitors were European Commission, The UN, UNICEF, and a lot of NGOs. All of them were smiling. They were placed in the dining room. We got ready for the show. Mr. Kamara, the director of the show, said a few words then the show began. They started telling the story of the Bra Spider and monster stories and performed tribal dances. I read a monologue from Julius Caesar and preformed a short hip-hop played about the redemption of a former child soldier that I had written. I became popular at the center after the event. Mr. Kamara called me to his office and told him that the visitors were impressed with my friends and me, and that we could possibly be rehabilitated. I was just happy because I got to perform again. He asked me if I wanted to be the spokesperson for the center. I agreed. Less than week later, I was talking at gathering in Freetown about child soldiering and how is must be stopped. I tell people that I believe children have the resilience to outlive their sufferings, if given a chance.

My Father’s Brother

It was the end of the sixth month when my childhood friend Mohamed arrived at the center. The last time I saw him was when I left Mogbweno with Talloi and Junior to go and perform in Mattru Jong. He could come with me because he had to help his father fix their kitchen. I wondered what happened to him. I never thought that I would see him again. I was coming back from a gathering when I saw a skinny light-skinned boy. He looked familiar but I wasn’t sure if I knew. He asked me if I remembered me. He started doing the running man. I had done some group performance with him before. We talked about the past and reminded me of my troublesome ways. In the beginning of the seventh month, Leslie came to talk to me. He looked sad but happy. He told me that they couldn’t find any of my family members so they were going to put me with a foster family. I told him that my father told me about his brother who lived in the city. I didn’t even know how he looked like. His name was Tommy and he was a carpenter is all I knew. Leslie told me that he might be able to find him. One Saturday afternoon, I was talking to Mohamed and Esther then Leslie walked in. He had a big smile on his face. Esther asked Leslie what the good news was then a tall name walked in. He was smiling right at me. He was my uncle. He came over and hugged me. I thought what if he was pretending to be my uncle. He started crying. That was the time when I actually believe that he was my uncle. He apologized for never coming to visit me before. He told me that when I was done at the center I was going to live with his family then he called me son. I haven’t been called son in a long time. He told me that he couldn’t stay long because he had to finish some work but that he will visit me every weekend. Mohamed and Esther congratulated me. He came to visit me every weekend. We were quiet at first then we talked about my father. I told him that my father mentioned him in every story about his troublesome childhood. I loved the walks with my uncle because they gave me a chance to think about my childhood. I need to talk about the good times before the war. I got to know to know him well through the walks. He always brought me a present. One weekend he took me to go meet his family. He lived in New England Ville. It was in the western part of western part of Freetown. When we were getting closer to his house, he told me that he told his wife that I was a child see but he didn’t tell his children. Immediately after a bend and a rise was a gravel road then my uncle’s house. It was a beautiful city. His house had no electricity or running water. The kitchen stood apart from the house. Under a mango a tree a few meters from the yard was a toilet and an open-air shower. It reminded me of Mattru Jong. We walked onto the verandah where his wife was. My uncle didn’t have any children of his own so he raised the children of his family members as his own. There were four of them: Allie, the oldest, Matilda, Kona, and Sombo, the smallest who was six years old. After the introduction everyone went back to their chores. My aunt brought out large plates of rice, fish, stew and plantains. After we ate, my uncle showed me his carpentry area and told me if I was interested him would teach me a few things. Allie came back and asked Uncle if he could take me to the soccer game. He said only if I wanted to. Allie was older than me. He was jovial but disciplined. On our way to the game, there was a girl who waved at us. Her name was Aminata. Allie told me that she was our cousin. Later, I became closer to her and Allie than the other children. After the game all I could think about was that I had a family that I never knew about.  When we got back, Uncle was waiting to take me back to the center. I was quiet during the walk to the bus stop. I only spoke to thank him. Then he told me that he see me you again soon.

Goodbye Friends

Two weeks later, Leslie told me I was to go back to be into a normal society. I was going to live with my uncle. Those two weeks felt longer than the eight months I spent at Benin House. I worried about living with a family. I had been on my own for so long and I didn’t know how I going be like. If I got sad, how would I explain that to my family, especially the children? I wanted to see Esther every day and talk to her. What was life going to be after the center? When the day of my repatriation (when we could back to normal life) finally came, I packed a few of my items in a plastic bag. I waited and my heart was beating faster. I was supposed to wait at the hospital so I walked there. Alhaji, Mambu, and Mohamed were sitting on the steps waiting for me. Esther came out with a smile on her face. A van made a turn and stopped on the side of the road. Leslie was in the front seat, waiting for me. I told my friends I had to go. Mohamed jumped on me and gave me a hug. Mambu hugged me while Mohamed was hugging me. Mambu squeezed my hand hard as if he knew it was goodbye forever. Alhaji shook hand and stared into my eyes thinking about all the things we went through together. I tapped his shoulder, reassuring him that everything was going to fine. After the handshake, he stepped back and saluted me and said, “Goodbye, squad leader.” He moved from foster home to foster home. I later found out that Mambu return to the front lines because his family refused to take him back. I never saw him again. Esther had watery eyes and hugged me very tightly. I didn’t respond. She handed me a piece of paper with her address on it. She told me that I could back at anytime. I visited her weeks later. The timing was bad because she was on her way to work. She hugged him and this time I squeezed back. So she told me to come and visit her next weekend. It was I the last time I saw her. I loved her but I never told her that.

My New Family

As soon as I got off the van, my uncle picked me up in his arms. I smiled but I was nervous. My cousins took turn hugging me. My aunt cooked me a welcome home meal. She made cassava leaves with chicken. People didn’t cook chicken every day. It was only cooked on special occasions like Christmas and New Year’s. She took my hand and made me sit next to my uncle. She brought out a plate for my uncle and me. We ate together with our hands. After we ate, Allie, twenty-one-years old, showed me where I was going to sleep. The room was clean and organized. The bed was made, the clothes were ironed, the shoes were lined up, and the floor was shiny. He pulled a mattress from under his bed and told me that I was to sleep there. After that, I went to back to the verandah. My uncle asked me if I knew the city. He told me that Allie would show me around or I could get lost and find my back. Then we heard a call for prayer that echoed throughout the city. After we ate, Allie, twenty-one-years old, showed me where I was going to sleep. The room was clean and organized. The bed was made, the clothes were ironed, the shoes were lined up, and the floor was shiny. He pulled a mattress from under his bed and told me that I was to sleep there. After that, I went to back to the verandah. My uncle asked me if I knew the city. He told me that Allie would show me around or I could get lost and find my back. Then we heard a call for prayer that echoed throughout the city. He said that if I had any questions to ask my cousins. I sat on the verandah by myself. I wasn’t nervous anymore but I missed Benin House. When my aunt and uncle returned from prayer, the family gathered around the cassettes player and listened to stories. They laughed throughout the whole story. I smiled and was very quiet but I gradually adjusted to being around people who were happy all the time. A day or two of living there, Allie gave me my first pair of dress shoes, a dress belt, and a classy shirt. He wanted to take me to a dance that night. It was a secret so we had to sneak out. When we got there, Allie was greeting everyone. There were a lot of people waiting in line to get in. all the boys were dressed nicely and all the girls had flowery dress and high heels and lip gloss. Allie was excited and started talking to the people in front of us. We finally got to the entrance where Allie paid for both of us. We went to the bar area and found a table. He went to go dance. I watched for awhile then I went to go dance in the corner. Suddenly a very dark girl with very white teeth came and danced with me. She started dancing closer to me. I looked at Allie who gave me a thumbs-up. Then a slow jam began to play so held her hand delicately as we swayed to the beat. She tried to make eye contact with me but I look away. In the middle of the song, an older boy grabbed her and they went toward the door. I went Allie and he complemented me about that situation. Something triggered a memory of a town we attacked during a school dance. I was sad for the rest of the night. A few nights later, I went to the pub and saw the same girl. She told me her name was Zainab. She told me that her brother wanted to go home and that she had to go with him. I dated her for three weeks because she started asking too many questions. I wasn’t willing to answer her questions so we broke up. it was okay because I liked being alone.

The Interview

One day, Leslie came to visit me. He asked me how I was doing. I wanted to be him that I had one severe migraine when an image of a burning building flashed into my mind. I told him everything was fine though. He told me that there was an interview for two children to be sent to the United Nations in New York City, in America, to talk about the lives of children in Sierra Leone and what can be done about it. Mr. Kamara recommended me to be sent for the interview. He gave me the address if I was interested. If I was, I was to come by his office and dress up nice. I didn’t say anything. The day of the interview, I went. I dressed casually. I wore sneakers, nice black pants, and a green long-sleeve shirt. I tucked in my short to look dressier. I walked to the address Leslie gave me. I told no one. I wanted to tell but if I had told him, I would have to tell him everything which I was ready for. It was midday and the tar road was too hot. I watched a plastic bag fall and immediately melt. When I arrived at the address, I was staring at a tall building. There were about twenty boys in the lobby. All of them were dressed well than I was. Their parents were fixing their outfits and giving them last minute pointers. Whiling I was marveling at the building, a man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was there for the interview. He pointed me towards a box with metal doors. I dint know what it was. I walked in and stood there. The boys inside laughed at me. Then a boy behind me pushed the number 5 button. Then the door closed. The box began to move fast. When the door opened, I was the last person to step out. The room was larger with brown leather chairs. The other boys had already found a seat so I sat away from them and looked around. I saw a window so I to see how high we were off the ground then a really light-skinned man called my name. He told me that to take a seat and that he will be with him in a moment in English. He eyed me and began to question me. She asked me what my name was very slowly in English. I told him and he checked me on the list. He asked me why I should go to the UN. I told him my reason. He asked me if I had any questions. I asked him why he was smiling. He told me that I could go and continued smiling. I got up and left. I walked towards the box and stood by it and waited for it. I didn’t know what to do to make it come upstairs. The other boys started laughing at me again. The man behind the desk pushed the button on the wall. The doors opened and the man pushed the 1 button and waved as the door closed.  As I walked out the building, I thought of telling Mohamed. I walked home very slowly, watching cars. At one point, a convoy of cars, military vans, and Mercedes-Benzes festooned with the national flag pass by. Their windows were tainted, so I couldn’t see who rode in it. They were going too fast. When I got home, I asked Allie if he knew a powerful man who goes places like that. He told me it was Tejan-Kabbah, the new president. I have never heard of this man.

I was going to New York City

One morning, Mr. Kamara came to my uncle’s house and told me that I had been chosen to go to the UN a few days before. I couldn’t believe that I was traveling to New York City. My aunt was surprised to see Mr. Kamara. I knew that I would have to tell Uncle about the trip. He was going to take me into town to get ready for my trip. I said goodbye to my aunt and jumped in the van. We went to go get my passport. Mr. Kamara made an appointment so we didn’t have to wait in line. He showed the man at the counter my photo, the necessary forms, and the fee. He looked at the documents and asked for my birth certificate. He said he needed proof that I was born in Sierra Leone. I became upset and wanted to slap him. Mr. Kamara asked me to sit down while he pulled the man aside and explained my situation. He demanded to see his boss in the middle of the conservation. They were able to find a copy of my birth certificate after hours of waiting. They told Mr. Kamara to come back in four days. Then he said we would have to go get my visa. I was so drained and wanted to go home but I didn’t complain. When I got home, my uncle was waiting for me. He wanted to know what was going on. I told him what was going on. He didn’t believe me. He told me that people are always lying about this like that and not to get my hopes up. Mr. Kamara took me shopping and bought me all the things I needed for my trip. I showed Uncle these things but he still didn’t believe me. I had to get my visa. I had been told to meet a man named Dr. Tamba at the American embassy on Monday morning. I walked into the embassy. There was a long line of people waiting outside the embassy gates. They had looks of uncertainty on their faces. After an hour or so, Dr. Tamba arrived with another boy. He looked like a dignified man, so I didn’t have to wait in line. The boy was a former soldier also. His name was Bah. A white woman behind a window asked me what my purpose of going to the United States. She didn’t even look at the papers before she asked. She didn’t look at us. I found out that she had our passports. She just looked at the pages of the passports. I was very confused especially about the window in front of the woman. She continued to ask me questions about my trip. Then she asked me if I had a bank account in Sierra Leone guaranteeing my return. I was wondering if she knew what country she was in. no child in Sierra Leone has their know bank account. Stupid I thought.  Mr. Tamba explained to her that he was going to assure our return. Then she told us to come back at 4:30. Mr. Tamba told us we got our visas and that he will hold on to them until the day we leave. It was time for us to go to America. I wore traditional brown pants and a T-shirt. My uncle told me to call him when I get to America. He doesn’t have a phone so he told me to call Aminata’s house. Everyone hugged me good bye. Then Uncle said, “My good wishes are with you. So I will see you later for dinner, then.” That’s one of the reasons I love him so much. He’s too funny.

Children from Twenty-three Countries

I wasn’t that excited to see New York City. I only thing I know about the place come from rap music. I envision it as a place where people get shot each other on the street and get away with it. I envisioned no one walking anywhere, just people driving around in nice sports cars looking for nightclubs and violence. I didn’t want to be somewhere this crazy. I had enough of that in my life already. I didn’t need more of it. It was dark when we landed at JFK airport. It was 4:30 p.m. I was wondering why it was dark. Dr. Tamba told me it was because it was winter. I only knew the word “winter” from Shakespeare. I thought I should look up the meaning again. Dr. Tamba took our passports and did all the talking at immigration. As we walking toward the sliding doors, I thought we should not go into the streets but Dr. Tamba was already outside. Bah and I were greeted by New York’s exceptionally cold winter weather. I couldn’t feel my face. My ears felt like they were going to fall off. My fingers hurt. My teeth chattered. The wind went through my summer pants. I felt like I wasn’t wearing anything. I ran back into the terminal. Bah stood outside with his arms wrapped tightly around him. For some reason, Dr. Tamba had a jacket but not Bah and I. I stayed inside until he got a cab then I ran outside and I jumped in. when we got into the city, we saw very tall buildings. Some looked like they were different colors. The city glittered. I was completely overwhelmed. There were so many cars on the street and so much honking even when the light was red. I rubbed my eyes to make sure that I was really seeing people on the streets of New York City, walking. We arrived at the Vanderbilt YMCA hotel. We followed Dr. Tamba to the desk to get our hotel room. It was the first time I had a room to myself. I had a television that I watched all night long. It was really hot in the room, so I took off my clothes and sweated while watching TV. Two days later I learned it was because of the radiator was on full blast. I thought this country was strange because it was extremely cold outside but very hot inside. The next morning, we went downstairs to the cafeteria where we had breakfast and waited for the United Nations First International Children’s Parliament. There were fifty-seven children from twenty-three countries. When I was looking for Dr. Tamba and Bah, a white woman pulled to the side and introduced herself as Kristen from Norway. I told her who I was then put a name tag on my shirt. She motioned me to the breakfast line. The boys in front of were talking in a strange language. I knew what I wanted but I didn’t know what they were called. I was so baffled that I just said the same thing as the boys in front of me. Thankfully, I liked what was on my plate. I asked Dr. Tamba if he knew where we could get some rich and fish stew in palm oil, some cassava leaves or okra soup. (This boy is too funny!!) I should have brought some of my own food, I thought. After breakfast, we walked two blocks to where most of the meetings were being held. It was still snowing; I wore summer dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I told I was going to die because it was so cold. I would worry about my nose, ears, and face falling off.  

White Woman in America knew Stories from my Childhood

In our first meeting, we learned about each other’s lives for hours. Some risked their lives to come to the conference. Others walked hundreds of miles to neighboring countries to get on a plane. We knew that everyone childhood was not easy and some would have to return to those lives at the end of the conference. After that, we sat in a circle so the facilitators could tell us about themselves. Most of them were NGOs. There was one short white woman with long dark hair and bright eyes. She said she was a storyteller. I was surprised so I listened in. She used elaborate gestures and spoke very clearly. Her name was Laura Simms. Her co-worker was Therese Plair. She was light-skinned, had African features, and held a drum. Before they finished, I decide to take their workshop. She said she would teach us how to tell stories in more compelling ways. I was curious how a white woman in New York City became a storyteller. That same morning Laura kept on looking at Bah and me. She noticed that we were wearing our light African pants and shirts, sat close to the radiator, and our hands wrapped around our bodies shaking. In the afternoon, she asked if we had winter coats. We shook our heads and she looked concerned. That evening, she gave us winter coats, hats, and gloves. I felt like I was wearing a heavy green costume but I was happy because I could go outside without freezing to death. Bah and I became closer with Laura and Therese during the conference. Laura would talk about stories I had heard as a child. I was in awe at the fact that a white woman in America, who has never been to my country, knows stories so specific to my tribe and upbringing. I called Freetown on the second day. Every morning we would quickly walk down the street through the snow to the conference room. We wouldn’t talk about our sufferings but ways to fix the problems facing children in different countries. By the end of the discussion, our faces would be glowing with hope and the promise of happiness. On the second night, Madoka from Malawi and I walked to Times Square. We were looking at buildings then all we could see were lights. There were screens everywhere. They would change quickly. That night, Madoka and I told other children about what we had seen. After that, we all went to Times Square every evening. Madoka and I would go a few places before our scheduled sightseeing days. One evening we all went on a subway together. Madoka asked why it was so quiet. Shantha, the cameraperson, told us that it wasn’t like the transportation back home. Shantha later became my aunt when I came back to live in New York. On every trip, I would make metal notes about what to tell Uncle and my cousins and Mohamed. One the last day of the conference, a child from each country talked briefly at the UN Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) chamber about their country and experiences. They were diplomats and all kinds of influential people. I sat proudly behind the Sierra Leone, plaque waiting for my turn. I talked about my experiences and my hope that the war will end. After all the presentations, we sand a chant we made up. We cried, we laughed, and we danced. It was a remarkably moving afternoon. We were sad to leave each other. Madoka and I put our arms around each other and jumped around to the music. Bah was dancing with other boys. Dr. Tamba was sitting in the audience smiling for the first time since we arrived in New York. After the dance, Laura pulled me aside and told me that she was moved by what I said. That night we went to an Indian restaurant. I was happy because they served rice. We ate a lot, talked, and exchanged addresses. Then we went to Laura’s house in the East Village. I didn’t know why it was called a village, because it didn’t look like a village. I didn’t know that Laura’s house would be my future home. There were traditional woven cloths from all over the world hanging on the walls; statues of animals were placed on bookshelves with storybooks; clay vases with beautiful exotic birds on them stood on the tables; and there were bamboo instruments and other strange ones. The house was big. First we sat in the living room and told stories then danced the night away. It was the last night in New York. It was the perfect place to spend it because the house felt like we left New York and entered a different world. The next evening, Laura and Shantha went with us to the airport. At first, we were quiet in the car then we began to cry except of Dr. Tamba. At the terminal, we cried harder. Laura and Shantha gave us their address and phone numbers so we could keep in touch. Throughout the flight I felt I like I was dreaming a dream that I didn’t want to wake up from. Some evenings I told my family and Mohamed, who now lived with us, stories about my trip.

It was Happening Again

Mohamed and I started school again. We attended St. Eduard’s Secondary School. I was excited. The school had only a small building. It was made out of mud bricks and had a tin roof. There were on doors, no cement floors, and it was too small to hold students. Most of my classes were held outside under a mango tree so we had shade. On the first day of school in Freetown, all the students sat apart from us, as if Mohamed and I were going to snap at any minute and kill someone. Somehow they learned that we had been child soldiers. We always walked to school slowly because I was able to think about where my life was going. I was confident that nothing could be worse than what it had been before. It made a smile. I got used to having a family. I started telling people Mohamed was my brother so I didn’t have to explain anything. As usual, I got up early in the morning. I sat on a flat stone behind the house and waited for the city to wake up. Instead of hearing the familiar sounds, it was woken up by gunshots near the State House and the House of Parliament. I ran and joined my uncle and neighbors on the verandah. We didn’t know what I was happening. We saw soldiers running down the street and army trucks speeding up and down in front of the prison area. More gunshots were fired throughout the day. The people were standing on their verandahs watching in fear. Mohamed and I looked at each other and thought not again. Early in the afternoon the central prison had been opened and the prisoners set free. The new government gave the prisoners guns as they got out. Some went straight the houses of the judges and lawyers who sent them to prison and killed them and their families. Some joined the soldiers who were looting shops. The smoke from burning house filled the city air. Someone came on the radio and announced himself as the new president of Sierra Leone. He said his name was Johnny Paul Koroma. He was the leader of the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC). It was formed by a group of Sierra Leone Army (SLA) officers to overthrow the democratically elected President Tejan Kabbah. Later that night another announcement came on the radio. It was declaring that the rebels (RUF) and the army collaboration in the ousting the civilian government “for the benefit of the nation.” Rebels and soldiers came pouring into the city. I hated what was happening. I couldn’t return to my other life. I didn’t think I would make it out this time. The AFRC/RUF called themselves “Sobels.”  They had being blowing up banks with RPGs and looting the money. Sobels would stop people and search them for whatever they could take. They occupied secondary schools and universities. There was nothing to do except sit. Uncle decided to finish a house we had been working on since I came to live with him. We walked up to the land and worked until the afternoon because of gunshots. Day by day, it became more dangerous to go out because stray bullets would kill people. So we stopped working on the house.

People Didn’t Even Dare to Leave their Homes

Armed men would take the food in the city and imported food stopped coming. What little we had left had to be sought in the midst of the madness. Laura had been sending money to me and I had some of it saved. Mohamed and I decided to go into town to try getting some gari, cans of sandines, rice, basically anything we could find. I knew that I would be risking running into my former military friends. They would kill me if they knew I wasn’t part of the war anymore, but I couldn’t stay home and starve. I had to find food. We heard about a secret market in town that was in a yard behind an abandoned house. They sold items for twice the regular prices but it was worth it. We left early in the morning so we didn’t see someone we knew. We kept our heads down when we passed young rebels and soldiers. We arrived right when the vendors put their food out. We bought rice, palm oil, salt, and fish. By the time we were done shopping, the market was filled with people. As were about to leave, a Land Rover came up and armed men jumped off before it came to a stop. They ran into the crowd and fired a warning shot. The commander ordered everyone to the bags of food on the ground. A woman panicked and ran. An armed man shot her in the head. She screamed and fell. This caused more panic. Everyone ran in different directions. We grabbed our bags and ran. It was a too familiar situation. When we were running another Land Rover came. They began firing and knocking people’s head. We hid behind a wall separating the marketplace and the main street. Then we kept to a fast but cautious path behind houses off the bay. Then we jumped on the main street with our food tucked under our food and walked home. We approached the Cotton Tree, where we saw a group of protestors. We tried to ignore them but when we returned the corner, a group of armed men fired into the crowd. There was no way out of the crowd. The armed men began to throw tear gas. People began to vomit on the sidewalks and some were bleeding through their noses. Everyone ran into the street. It was hard to breathe. I held tight to the bag and ran with Mohamed. Tears ran down my face and eyelids began to feel heavy. I was getting angry. I tried to contain myself because I couldn’t afford to lose my temper. My throat hurt and Mohamed coughed until the veins in his throat could he seen. We managed to break free. Then another group of people started running towards us and armed men were chasing them too. We found a gutter and dove in. A chopper was circling the city. It moved down to street level. A soldier was sitting on the opened side. He fired a machine gun into the crowd. The street a minute before was filled with banners and noisy people and now it was a silent graveyard. Mohamed and I ran through alleyways. We came up to a fence that faced to the main street on which there was a roadblock. Armed men were on guard. W laid in the gutter for six hours, waiting for nightfall. It was better to escape at night because the bullets could be seen. I hoped Uncle wasn’t worrying about our whereabouts. Night finally came and we made it home. Uncle was sitting on the verandah with tears in his eyes. When he saw me, he jumped up as if he had seen a ghost. He hugged us for a long time and told us not to go into the city anymore. The gunshots didn’t stop for five months. For the first three weeks people were so scared, they didn’t dare to leave their houses. People got used to the craziness. People began their daily business of looking for food. Children would guess on my type of weapon made what sound. I mostly sat outside with Mohamed. We were quiet. I was thinking about the fact that we had ran so far away from the war just to be back in it. I lost contact with Laura for five months. I would try to make a collect calls to her but they never went through. My uncle would laughed less and less and sigh more and more.

I was Always Losing Everything that meant Something to Me

Uncle got sick. One morning he was complaining about how he didn’t feel well. In the evening he developed a fever. Allie and I went to the local shop and bought some medicine, but his fever grew worse day by day. Auntie Sally would force him to eat, but he would just vomit after he done eating. All the hospitals and pharmacies were closed. We looked around the city for doctors or nurses, but those who hadn’t left would not leave their homes. One evening, I was sitting by my uncle, wiping his forehead, when he fell off the bed. I caught him in my arms. He looked at me and I could see that he had given up hope. I begged him not leave me. He was about to say something, but then his lips stopped shaking. He was gone. Auntie Sally came in soon afterward. She dropped the hot water and refused to believe that he had past. He was in arms still and I was crying. My body went numb. I couldn’t move. Mohamed and Allie came in and took him from me. After a few minutes, I was able to get up. I went behind the house and punched the mango tree until Mohamed took me away from it. I was always losing everything that meant something to me. My cousins cried. They asked who was going to take care of them and why this have to happen in these did complicated times. We buried my uncle the next morning. Even in the middle of this craziness, many people came to his burial. I walked behind the coffin. Mohamed and my cousins held my hands. My aunt had tried to come to the cemetery but she collapsed before we left the house. At we buried, people quickly left and continued on with their lives. I stayed behind with Mohamed. I sat on the ground and talked to my uncle. I told him I was sorry because I couldn’t find any help and I hoped that he knew I really loved him. I sat there and cried. I didn’t realize when it was evening. The curfew was about to start so Mohamed and I ran back home as fast as we could before the shooting started. A few days later, I was able to reach Laura. I asked her if I could stay with her in New York. She said yes. I asked her if I could stay with her in New York, if I made it that far. I had called her again in Conakry, the capital of New Guinea. It was a peaceful place. I had to leave because I thought I would become another soldier or be killed by my former soldier friends if I refused to become a soldier.

I left Freetown.

I left Freetown early in the morning. It was a week after my uncle’s death. It was October 31, 1997. I didn’t tell anyone that I left except Mohamed. He was going to tell my aunt after she was done grieving. She had turned away from the world and everyone in it after my uncle’s death. It was dark outside and the curfew was still in place but I had to go before the sun came out. I had only a small dirty bag holding a few clothes. it was to risky traveling with a fancy bag.  I was afraid as I was leaving. It was becoming too familiar. I stopped by a utility pole, took a deep breath and started throwing punches in the air. I thought that if it didn’t work, I would be back in the army. I walked near gutters so if I heard cars approaching, I could hid in them. I was the only civilian on the streets. I would bypass checkpoints by crawling in gutters or crouching behind houses. I safely made to the bus station. There were a lot of men, around their thirties, women, and a few families with their children. They all stood in a line against the wall. I walked into the line and sat on my heels to make sure my money was still in my sock. The man in front of me kept on walking back and forth and mumbling something to himself. It made me more nervous than I already was. The bus came up with its lights off and took us out of the city. The road hadn’t been used in years so it seemed like we were driving through bushes. At one point, we had to get off the bus and walk behind it so it could go up a hill. We got off an hour later at an old bridge. We paid the bus driver and walked across the bridge two at a time. We had to walk all day to the place we had to wait for the next bus. This was the only way to get out of Freetown without getting killed. We sat on the ground and waited all night. No one talked to each other. I started to walk down the road to find a good place to sleep. I jumped over the gutter and sat by a tree all night. I seemed safe so far, but I was still worried. I thought about uncle, my father, my mother, my brothers, and my friends. I thought about how everyone keeps on dying except for me. In the morning people stood up and dusted themselves off. After hour s of waiting, we heard the clucking of an engine coming down the road. We weren’t sure if it was the bus so we hid in the bushes. Then we were able to see the bus. We hurried and got on the bus. I had to pay half price because I was under eighteen but half price was more than full price used to be. After awhile of driving, we saw soldiers with big guns aiming then at the bus. They asked everyone to get off then made us walk through the barricade. We didn’t understand why they searched the bus. Everyone got on again after a few minutes. There were too many barricades. At every barricade, the soldier did different things; some asked for money, if you refused you would have to stay; if you didn’t have money, you would have to get them your valuables. We reached our final destination, Kambia, at about four in afternoon. Everyone seemed to be more relaxed when we arrived but then everyone became tense when the immigration officers came. They also requested money. Everyone reached into the places where their money was hiding. A woman with two little boys begged the officer if she could pay. She needed the money to feed her sons in Conakry. The man just put his hand out and told the woman to step aside. It disgusts me how they could ask for money from people who just got of the war, where all their money had been taken in of them. I had to pay about two month’s pay so the immigrant officers could put a departure stamp in my passport. As soon as they stamped my passport, I crossed the border into Guinea. It was over fifty miles to Conakry, the capital of Guinea. I got worried because I could speak any of the languages of Guinea but I was relieved that I had left the country.

Conakry, Guinea

The buses were on the other side of the checkpoint. There were men selling near the checkpoint selling Guinea currency at whatever rate they pleased. I changed my money and walked through the checkpoint. The border was crowded with soldiers. Their guns were in ready position. I avoided eye contact because I thought they might see that I had been in the war before. There was a wooden house that you have to pass to get to the bus. It was like a train station with airport security. It was filled with soldiers that checked my bags. We showed them our documents. A soldier motioned me to come over. He put his hand out for my passport. He said something I couldn’t understand. He put my passport in his chest pocket and placed his hands on the table, sternly looking at me. I looked down then he lifted my chin then looked at passport again. He had a grin on his face for some reason. He folded his hands and then sat down. I smiled then he laughed at me. He said something again that I couldn’t understand without a grin. I put some money in his hand then he pulled out my passport and gave it to me them motioned me to leave. On the other side were a lot of buses. I didn’t know which one to go on. I didn’t know any French. While looking for the bus to Conakry, I bumped into a man. He told me to watch where I was going. I apologized and told him that I was looking for the bus to Conakry. He told me he was going there also so we went together. The bus was overcrowded so I stood for most of the trip. There were over fifteen checkpoints. Every checkpoint looked the same as others. There was a Jeep with mounted guns parked along the road. More soldiers sat under a shack. There were a few compartments where the soldiers would people. The soldiers were ruthless. The rule was those who didn’t pay were kicked off the bus. I wondered if the set the people back to other side of the border. I got through most roadblocks for free because they thought I was the man’s son and only checked his documents and charged him for both. I didn’t think he noticed. I don’t think money was a problem for him. At one roadblock, the soldiers took me into a room and made me undress. At first, I didn’t want to take my clothes but I saw them kick a man and rip his clothes off. One soldier took me belt. It was favorite belt because the buckle was a lion’s head. I ran back to the bus and tried to hold back my angry. At the last roadblock, the soldier made me put my hands on my head. When I lifted my hands, my pants fell. Everyone laughed at me. The soldier tied my pants with a shoelace. He reached into my pockets and took my passport. He looked at it and gave it back to. I went to stand in line to get my entry stamp. I overheard some people talking about the entry fee. They said it was three hundred leones. I only had one hundred leones. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about how I can all this way for nothing. I began to cry. A man dropped his bags. I left the line and went to go pick them up. I followed him to the bus. I looked to see if any soldiers were watching me. I sat in the back of bus slouched in my seat. I entered the bus illegal. I knew that would be a problem for me later. I didn’t know what I was going to do there. I heard that the Sierra Leonean ambassador lets refugees sleep temporarily in the compound of the embassy, but I didn’t know where the embassy is. When the bus came to a stop, I looked for the man I bumped into early. I couldn’t find him. I sat and watched everyone to get off. I told myself that I could sit on the bus all night. There were a lot of taxis and I didn’t want to look like a lost foreign so I took one. The taxi driver asked me something in French. I didn’t know what to say so I just told him “embassy.” We took me to the embassy. When I got out, the guards asked me for my passport. I showed it to them and they let me in. there was more than fifty people probably in the same situation as me. Most of them were lying on mats. I found a spot in the corner. As I looked at the crowd of people, it reminded me of the few villages I passed through when I was running away for the war. There was a woman with her son and daughter telling them a story. Her gestures took me back me of stories I heard as a child. It was nighttime. We sat by the firing trying to warm up and we listened to stories and watched the night sky. I reminded me of the times my family and friends would gather around and listen to stories.

Story of My Life

My friend’s grandfather, Pa Sesay, would tell us stories back in the day. He told us a story a hunter. He kept on tell us that it was a very important story and that we should listen closely. The story begins with a hunter who went to the bush to kill a monkey. He saw a monkey sitting comfortable in the branches of a low tree. The monkey didn’t pay any attention to him, not even when we would walk closer. When he got close enough to see the monkey clearly, he raised his gun to his shot it. Just when he was about to pull the trigger, the monkey spoke: “If you shoot me, your mother will die, and if you don’t, your father will die.” The monkey reclined in the branches and continued eating its food. Pa Sesay asked us, “What would you do if you were the hunter?” They would tell the young people in the village once year. The storyteller would always ask the question in front of the children’s parents. No child would answer that question in front of their parents. The story teller would never give us any answer. There was no right answer; someone would die no matter what. When I was seven I had an answer to the question that made sense to me. I never told anyone because I thought someone might tell my mother. I concluded that if I were the hunter, I would shoot the monkey so it would no longer have the chance to put other hunters in the same predicament. (What a clever answer for a seven year old)

And The Journey Continues…….