In Early 1993, When I Was 12,

The Places I Come From Have Such Rich Languages, Such A Variety Of Expression. In Sierra Leone We Have About Fifteen Languages And Three Dialects. I Grew Up Speaking About Seven Of Them.

In Early 1993, When I Was 12, I Was Separated From My Family As The Sierra Leone Civil War, Which Began Two Years Earlier, Came Into My Life.

When I Was Young, My Father Used To Say, ‘if You Are Alive, There Is Hope For A Better Day And Something Good To Happen. If There Is Nothing Good Left In The Destiny Of A Person, He Or She Will Die.’ I Thought About These Words During My Journey, And They Kept Me Moving Even When I Didn’t Know Where I Was Going. Those Words Became The Vehicle That Drove My Spirit Forward And Made It Stay Alive.

How Many More Times Do We Have To Come To Terms With Death Before We Find Safety?

I Lay In My Bed Night After Night Staring At The Ceiling And Thinking, Why Have I Survived The War? Why Was I The Last Person In My Immediate Family To Be Alive? I Didn’t Know.