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Ashley: Just when I thought I had seen the worst of it, the fragile clutch of my hopeful spirit took yet another blow.
After interviewing Reverend Spencer (Kissi Town Shelter founder and Makripodis School Principal) on the dismal state of his shelter home and school, Jonah and I sat, once again speechless, struggling for a way to give immediate and realistic encouragement to this selfless man. Painfully conscious once again of the huge divide between our world and that of Reverend Spencer, Jonah reiterated the importance of telling the individual stories of Sierra Leoneans to his students and everyday Americans. “When Americans hear about Africa, they hear numbers and statistics. Yes, they are horrible, and sad,” he said. “This many dead, this many living on under a dollar a day. We have to turn these numbers into names…tell the stories…make the human connection.” He mentioned the Africa unit he teaches at the Marin School and that the main book he uses, titled, “A Long Way Gone,” about a boy soldier in Sierra Leone. I mentioned that my senior thesis was about peace building in post-conflict Sierra Leone. Surprised and grateful to hear that students in America were learning about his country, the Reverend replied, “Ah!? Wonderful! So you came here to see it for yourself, did you? Have you visited the amputees yet? “
Perhaps the most senseless and disgusting element of the Sierra Leone war was the rebels’ tactic of systematically chopping off thousands of innocent civilians’ limbs, for reasons that cannot be rationally explained. They went for the young and the old, sometimes amputating babies not old enough to crawl. The result: thousands of farmers unable to work their land, students unable to write, business people unable to type, athletes unable to run. I’ve seen many amputees since we arrived here a couple of months ago. Mostly we see them in Central Freetown, gathered in groups and begging for change or food. Some are in wheelchairs, others in wagons with awkward hand cranks, I guess the more affordable (and less comfortable) means of mobilization. We met a couple of boys who played for the amputee football league, strapping, youthful, and robbed of an invaluable leg. I have yet to see any prosthetics. It’s pathetic.
Perhaps the second most senseless and disgusting element of the war was, and is, the government’s handling of the thousands of civilian amputees. I became aware of this pitiful truth when Reverend Spencer scheduled us a visit to an amputee camp on the outskirts of Freetown.
The leader (or spokesman of sorts) of the amputee camp, Ishmail Daramy, agreed to us coming and interviewing himself and the other residents. York Road Amputee Camp was built by the Norwegian Refugee Council in 2002 and has been home to 10 amputees and their families ever since. The Norwegians paid for the construction of the rudimentary buildings while the World Food Program supplied the amputees with about 6 months worth of food. Since then, funding from the Norwegians has ceased, food supply has been cut, and the residents of York Road have been left to fend for themselves.
As soon as we arrived at the camp, Ishmail greeted us outstretched wrists; both hands stolen 13 years prior. As if fearful of a missed opportunity, he quickly began to illustrate the litany of injustices faced by the Sierra Leonean amputees. “We are suffering greatly,” he said over and over again. Struggle and frustration was written all over his face; his eyes weary and the wrinkles in his forehead deepened by years of unspeakable grief. With a cigarette clutched between the stumps of his wrists, he asked kindly for a light. As we spoke, he looked me straight in the eyes, as if begging for help without having to say the words. He has begged enough and was clearly tired of it.
Ishmail Daramy at the York Road Amputee Camp
The government of Sierra Leone has done little, if anything to assist the amputees. The official response to these atrocities was, and is shameful. Ishmail informed us that the rebels began amputating civilians as early as 1994 in the rural areas of the country; however, neither the government nor the international community made anything of it until the RUF made it into the capital city, Freetown, in 1999. Only then did the amputating massacre that had ripped through the hinterland for the past five years make the headlines.
Ishmail was amputated at half past 8 in the morning on June 26th, 1996, in his home town of Kono, the most strategic diamond mining area in all of Sierra Leone. After his hands were severed by the rebels, he walked 15 miles through the bush to find a vehicle who could take him to the hospital. When he finally reached the hospital it was 10 o’clock at night, his life slowly fading away. This man was not a rebel, a kamajor, a government soldier, or a politician. He did not pledge allegiance to any faction of the war’s many splintered parties. He was an honest man doing honest work; a commercial driver trying to survive and support his family in the nucleus of a brutal war zone. He was pulled from his car and given no say in the matter…his hands would be cut off and that was that. The rebels wanted control of the diamond mines. If they took everyone’s hands or legs, there would be no one to fight back. This was the logic.
Once a final ceasefire was signed and the war was finally over, the Sierra Leonean government and UNAMSIL (the United Nations Armed Mission in Sierra Leone) orchestrated a large DDR (disarmament, demobilization and reintegration) program for the 40,000+ rebels who had been terrorizing the country for the past eleven years. The rebels went through counseling, schooling and/or vocational training in order to be reintegrated into civilian life. They were given a resettlement package which consisted of a $140 allowance, supplemented by several tools of their chosen trade to get back on their feet. Several NGOs and UN agencies worked with former combatants after the war and numerous services have been made available to ease their transition. Many of the former rebels are living comfortably today.
Meanwhile, the innocent people who lost one or more of their appendages at the hands of these rebels got nothing of the sort. The government of Sierra Leone made provisions to support the amputees in the Lome Accord (the ceasefire agreement which officially ended the war), yet nothing has been seen of these provisions to this day. Other than a few NGOs that supported the amputees with immediate (meager) assistance following the war, the ones victimized most by the rebels (who managed to survive) were the ones most neglected. With contempt in his voice, Ishmail admitted, “The ones who did this to us, we have to sit around and watch them become rich men. They got everything and we got nothing. If the government is going to pay someone for being a rebel, why shouldn’t my children take up guns?” How is that for a slap in the face?
In order to provide for his family, Ishmail has taken to begging on the streets. Regrettably, this is the fate of most of Sierra Leone’s amputees. All ten of the York Road amputees beg for a living. There has been no support structure put in place by the government to provide gainful employment opportunities for the large amputated population. Employers turn a blind eye to the men and women searching for a job with one arm, or one leg. Yet Ishmail’s concern is not for himself. He has long ago given up on hope for his own future. It is the fate of his 5 children that keeps him from sleeping at night. “How can I send my children to school? How can I give them an education so that they know better than to take up arms again? Education is the only hope for my children and this country. If my children don’t go to school, what is to keep them from starting another war?” What, then, is to keep them from repeating the past? Eight years after the war has ended, the state of education in Sierra Leone is dangerously similar to how it was before to the war started. Ishmail’s nightmare is all too close to reality.
Residents of the York Road Amputee Camp
When asked if he was resentful to the government for their neglect, his response revealed a painful truth. “Of course. The government has abandoned us. How are we supposed to survive? During the war, who was responsible for protecting us? The government. They failed to protect me and I was amputated – destroyed physically and psychologically. I paid my taxes during the entire war and they neglected their responsibility to my security; they failed to protect me. Now I am amputated and begging on the streets to survive. This is my situation now.”
I left York Road amputee camp feeling tired and angry. This place is so messed up.
Departure from Freetown felt like a numbed and woozy escape from the dentist’s. Freetown is situated beautifully: swooping green hills with the Atlantic beckoning. Sadly, its geography plays the role of a disapproving older sibling to the traffic, waste…more waste. We arrived in Kambia after 5 hours in torrents of rain in a mini-van with no air circulation. It was the first transport in the last 7 weeks that did not result in some sort of grinding breakdown on the edge of soupy roads. Luxurious! I sat next to an Imam who kept falling asleep on my shoulder. His smell a mixture of Old Spice and mothballs. To my right a young boy happily introduced himself as Mohammed. He read a crumpled book called The Voyage of Mimi. The first page set the scene somewhere in New England, the father and son in pleated pants and crisp shirts, speaking with hands on hips about the wind, knots, and jibs. Mohammed’s head swiveled around in exhaustion and Mimi’s voyage would wait to be discovered another day. They slept for most of the trip, the Imam wrapped in a brown Nautica jacked once white, nuzzling my shoulder; Mohammed’s head crushed between his legs.
We were excited to see the Bangura family, our friends who live across from the AMNet office. As usual, the mother out back by the ever-lit fire, cooking. She hugged Ashley, and a few minutes later was removing her breast and telling her about a current ailment. Alhasan gave us a hug, smiled, but seemed to have aged since seeing him just 3 weeks ago. I noticed a series of shaky creases at the edges of his mouth. He informed us that his brother Alusine had left for Freetown the day before because their stepmother was in a coma. We stood there trying to digest the matter while Alhasan fought back the lengthening creases and a shaky voice.
Abas arrived a while later and said he had recovered from malaria. The boil on his leg was healing fairly well.
After numerous greetings and children running full speed into my legs, I spent part of the evening typing up a draft of Child Rights Bylaws for Kambia District. Each district is to submit a draft of Bylaws, with (un)necessary variances, to the central government in Freetown. Trainings for the Child Rights Act are to taken place in all 14 districts of Sierra Leone. We participated in a Child Rights Act training several weeks ago in Kambia. The rights are straight forward and necessary, simultaneously wonderful and disturbing that they are just now being implemented in 2009. The Sierra Leone Child Rights Act now include the following:
1. All children have the right to life and to grow and develop. 2. All children have the right to have a name that has been legally registered, and to a nationality. 3. All children have the right to live with their parents and family and to grow up in a peaceful and caring environment. 4. All children have the right to live in dignity and to be treated with respect. They also have the right to relax and play, grow up in liberty, and to receive education, shelter and the things they need to stay healthy, including immunization against diseases.
5. All children have the right to receive a fair share of their parents’ property if their parents should die. 6. All children have the right to be protected from war and violent conflict. 7. All children have the right to take part in sports, in cultural and artistic activities and in other forms of recreation. 8. All children with a disability of any kind have the right to special care, education and support, so that they can lead full and independent lives. 9. All children have the right to say what they think should happen when adults have to take decisions that affect them. 10. All children have the right to be protected by the Government from having to do any kind of work that is dangerous, or that might harm their health or their education.
11. All children have the right to be protected from harsh torture and harsh treatment or punishment, including beatings. The Child Rights Act does not allow anyone – including parents – to use violence to punish children. 12. Nobody under the age of 18 is allowed to get married.
Wonderful to see these implemented! These are Child Rights that are imperative to the foundations of any healthy community or country. Yet, as I typed up the draft of the Child Rights Bylaws, I was overcome with a feeling of deep despair. It was not just because of the poor grammar nor was it word usage, nor syntax, nor the strange mechanics, that would ultimately confused people. This draft of Bylaws felt a best friend of Echo, doomed to repeat the mistakes that has trapped Sierra Leone, and so many other African countries, for so long. Example:
The Bylaws spoke of transgressions against children such as sexual abuse, forced labor, and manipulations – crimes that need to be addressed clearly. Yet with each crime spoken of – and with each fine to be imposed on the perpetrator – there was linked the phrase “or to be paid in kind.” This payment consists of goods, commodities equivalent to the price of the fine. The scales felt like they were falling from my eyes, but unlike that blessed man in the dusty road – who felt better after the fact – the process made my head ache and my sight dizzy.
“Or to be paid in kind” is one of those frightening phrases that leave room for doubt and misinterpretation, shadows of illegitimacy. Leaves room for people to make use of the devices the words allow: the Gorgon head of corruption. How many fines are actually paid and how many are “in kind” is something I’d like to know. Kindness comes in different shapes, sizes, and quantities, both tangible and intangible, does it not?
Poor word usage is not equal to all things illegitimate, certainly. It remains a symptom of a larger problem: lack of attention – or intent to avoid – details that remain comparably easy to fix. Details that would assuage a host of personal disasters.
Makrapodis Secondary School
Freetown is located on the tip of a stocky peninsula that points NW from mainland Sierra Leone. Since our return from Kambia, we’ve been visiting Makrapodis Secondary School located on the Eastern edge of the peninsula. The school is located in a small village called Kissi Town, just south of the town of Tombo, overlooking the ocean below. The school doubles as a shelter home called Fountain of Mercy for middle and high school students, most of them orphaned, parents either dead or having given them up due to lack of finances.
Revered Spencer serves as school principal, head of the shelter home, and pastor of the Baptist church a few hundred meters down the road. He receives no payment for any of these jobs and stretches his personal funds to supply a meager one meal per day for children. The Reverend also acts as security, sleeping in the church with the boys of the shelter home. There are two withered mattresses for a few of the other boys, while the rest sleep on the floor or on the church benches. Meanwhile, the 8 girls of the shelter room sleep in a 10X6 room with Teresa, the Reverend’s wife. There is one double bed in this room for the 9 women; the girls unable to fit on the bed sleep on the rat-infested floor. Appalling conditions surely, but comparably luxurious to the short-lived, painful lives of children stuck on the street. Many of the children have faced the degradation of street labor, some prostitution, to make money enough to survive. The teachers at Makrapodis, meanwhile, have worked on a voluntary basis for two years, many using their spare time searching endlessly for work. Why do they do this? “The children need help,” one teacher said simply, stalwartly, and necessarily.
Kissi Town is predominately a fishing village. Recently the government passed a law against catching fish below a certain size. Environmentally-friendly, surely, but due to the quick implementation of the law – and no options for other employment – many local fisherman have now lost their one area of reliable income. Enormous, long-tail boats now sit stranded on the beaches; fishermen stitch their nets with sad eyes, hoping their next haul will meet government standards. Rev. Spencer informed us that some fisherman, in order to thwart certain starvation, fish under the cloak of night to avoid being caught by authorities, often-times lying on the bottom of boats for hours at time. Many of the shelter children’s parents were/are fisherman and are no longer able to provide.
- local beach/fisherman
The Rev. Spencer, several teachers, Ashley, and I walked around school/shelter property. He pointed out with humility – and gratitude for – the substandard structural facilities: leaky roofs, chalkboards like reptile skin with scabs, cracks in the concrete walls, elevated holes in the ground with four claustrophobic walls that serve as toilets. Blessings, all of them, considering the vacancy of adequate funding, and nowhere else for the children to go.
I asked the Reverend about the reasons for his dedication to these projects, to these children, and the communities where they struggle, to which he answered, “If I don’t, who will? Someone needs to take that step.” His ‘step’ is an ultra-marathon with no windbreaks along the way.
As we walked around the school, shelter, and church property, teens approached and introduced themselves with kind, cautious smiles, said “Nice to meet you” and “Thank you for your help,” while thumbing through yellowing pages of books, holding and swinging their peaceful hands. To see a child who you can tell wants to smile widely, but holds back, only doing so with a tentative flicker of the lips, fearful that moment of joy will be swept away by an avalanche of despair as it has so many times before – it is a crushing gravity.
128 students are currently enrolled at Makrapodis Secondary School, 20 of them full-time shelter live-ins. Being that the school is private, government funds are non-existent despite being required to be registered with the government and having to meet numerous standards. Money is said to always “Be coming soon.” Teachers have to do with what materials they can find in the nearby village of Tombo, or, if they are lucky, get a ride to Waterloo for better choices (Freetown is a non-option because of the high cost to get there, about 2USD). These ‘materials’ consist of such items as one copy of a paperback entitled “Basic English Grammar” for use with all students. I spoke with the literature teacher who uses this personal copy as the basis for his grammar instruction. In addition, he teaches literature – somehow – with no copies for any of the students. Teachers spending endless hours copying lessons by kerosene lamps for students. Their fingers scraping the chalkboard along with the nubs of chalk.
Still, four block classes are taught per day, the following subjects alternating every other: Mathematics, French, Integrated Science, Business Studies, Agriculture, Social Studies, Literature, Government, RME (Religious Moral Education), History, Health Science, Financial Accounting, Cost Accounting, Economics, Business Management, and Physical Health Education.
This year students of Makrapodis Secondary School boasted the highest scores on the BECE (acronym pronounced Be’ Kay, Basic Education Certification Exam) of all schools in the rural district on the Eastern Peninsula of Freetown that includes Waterloo, Tombo, and Kissy Town. The BECE is a make or break test for youths in Sierra Leone and many are, accordingly, enormously anxious about the exam (Although the school is private, its students must take the BECE exam; the government still, therefore, regulates indirectly but gives no funding) First, they have to be able to pay to ‘sit’ in the exam. In most cases, parents cannot afford to pay the $6 required to take the exam: children discontinue their education, the cycle of uneducated youths continues. If students can afford to take the exam, they must choose an area of focus, whether it be science or art (literature, social studies) or math. They are thus funneled into a specific area of interest, eliminating the opportunity to take classes prior to the BECE outside of their field. From this point until the completion of their secondary education, they must take classes in one area of focus; it is incredibly difficult, time consuming, and expensive to retake exams if a different focus is chosen at a later date. A backward, antiquated, disheartening system that pigeonholes already-marginalized youths with little idea if they will get to eat that day or not, let alone their area of ‘specialty’ for the rest of their lives. The exams are terrifically outdated, Soviet-like in their standardization, a certain benchmark for failure, not success for many struggling youths in Sierra Leone.
Still, there are many who make it work. The students of Makrapodis make it work: orphaned, malnourished, and damaged. They receive high academic marks, the school receives glowing reviews by the Sierra Leonean government who wonders how this is being accomplished. The staff and students of Makrapodis have learned that education and hard work is the only way out. They have learned the most important of concepts. No student has been placed on an individualized learning plan. No student is able to cite his or her ADD as the reason for not completing last night’s homework. Incomplete is not an option. No student can place some obscure blame on someone else for a lack of proper test preparation. There usually isn’t a ‘someone else’ in their life. No student has the help of the limitless knowledge within computers. No student has the chance to say, “I couldn’t find it,” after a few seconds on Google. What these students could absorb in those brief moments with such a fantastic tool of technology, what they would give to be able to do so. No student can study by the comfort of electricity. No student is guaranteed of anything other than love, support, and care. The teachers at Makrapodis also make it work: with no materials, no pay, by most peoples’ standards, no anything. The teachers don’t attend workshops, are not learned on recent pedagogies, are not part of a union, are not versed on what is politically correct and what isn’t, are not skilled in matters of project implementation and ‘best practices,’ do not have an office (or permanent home for that matter), are not tethered to what periods when they are free and when they must actually work…because is all work. All the time.
It is obvious that – no matter the country or demographic – the parents, mentors, role-models, adolescents and children who embrace fact that nothing replaces hard work are only then to be the juggernaut of progress, support, and growth they are meant to be. Such is diligence. Acceptance of a situation and the ability to overcome. Hope. Being steadfast. In light of, and in spite of, the certain ‘arrows of misfortune’ that have occurred and are bound to strike at some inevitable point in the future.
