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“I was ready to help the gentleman who was the driver’s assistant. It was a game, and I had to play it wisely. I volunteered to help carry a load for a certain woman. She was old and her luggage was heavy, but that was the way I would escape to victory.”
“The day came, and I boldly asked Duran when I would return home to my grandmother. He did not like the way I spoke to him. I spoke soft but stern for my age. All my rights were seized.”
“I stayed home while the other kids in our big compound went off to school. This was certainly a tough time. My brother would flog me very well if I made any mistake with his combat uniform. I was also responsible for cleaning his military boots. I had to shine them until he could see his face on the shoe toes.”
“When I entered the principal’s office, he laughed and asked for my receipt. He said that without the receipt, I was committing a crime by coming to school. He told me in a loud voice, ‘If education is expensive, try ignorance. Go quickly and bring your receipt.’ ”
“T-Boy had watched the omolé flow in the house. We were constantly selling and brewing. Many came to the house to get their shots. T-Boy had made arrangements to take some bottles out to sell. But we were uncertain of his true motives.”
“My grandmother was afraid, because the police would come to investigate why a woman died in front of our house. I was busy playing soccer that day, but seeing everyone running toward our house, I knew I should be there. It was an unpleasant scene. My uncles had to lift the woman up and my grandmother cleaned the place. And I stood there crying aloud.”
“I was getting thinner every day. I was also very resilient. Back with my grandmother and uncles in Motema, our only source of income was the illicitly brewed local moonshine, ‘omole,’ which was a hot commodity, sought either by those who drank it or the police who thought it was a drug and should not be consumed.”
“That morning I left with the intention that I would stay in school all day. I was wrong. I did not have the school uniform, neither did I have the admission. I returned to Motema in tears. A lot worked on my mind. It was all geared toward my return to school. It was hard for me. My grandmother was waiting for good news.”
“I decided to walk to freedom one day, just five days after my interview at the Wesley Secondary School. I went to the military barracks junction looking for any military personnel going to Freetown — Bo, where my mother lived and my potential new school was located, was on the way. A truck was going by at 11 a.m.”
Many unanswered questions came to mind. I hoped it was a boarding school because I could not travel from Daru to Segbwema every day, and I knew no one who lived in that town. Suffering was hanging over my head. I cried alone when I had no answers for these questions. I cried aloud at one point, prompting everyone in sight to look at me.