Lungi, the airport town of Sierra Leone, was cool; staying on to recuperate was the best thing to do at that stage. I prayed and hoped for the better.
I had already made friends around town, and my brother’s wife was great. She had a lot of joy to share. Betty, an adopted child herself, was a good source of encouragement, but poverty was her name.
I had no food to contribute, but Betty did not mind. My brother sent money to support the house when he received his salary. Peter, who was also known as PA, was such a kind man.
I lived away from my brothers for a long time. They expected me to do well and have more money than them, but here I was sitting again with them and leaning on them for food. It was great that I had to bring money for my operations. My old friends helped.
Each day had its own story. And my stories were full of challenges, but the new story this afternoon was scary, full of hope and full of anxiety.
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