A Long Way Gone Part 7

I got up and hugged my uncle, and he embraced me harder than he had the first time and kissed me on my forehead. We briefly stood in silence before he began to speak again. aI canat stay long, because I have to finish some work at the other part of the city. But from now on, I will visit you every weekend. And if it is okay, I would like you to come home with me at some point, to see where I live and to meet my wife and childrena"your family.a My uncleas voice trembled; he was trying to hold back sobs. He rubbed my head with one hand and shook Leslieas hand with the other.

aSir, from now on, you will be informed about how this young man is doing,a Leslie said.

aThank you,a my uncle replied. He held my hand and I walked with him toward the van that he and Leslie had arrived in. Before my uncle got into the car with Leslie, he hugged me again and said, aYou look like your father, and you remind me of him when we were growing up. I hope you are not as stubborn as he was.a He laughed, and I did, too. Esther, Mohamed, and I waved them off.

aHe seems like a nice man,a Esther said as soon as the van disappeared from our sight.

aCongratulations, man, you have a family member in the city away from all the madness,a Mohamed said.

aI guess so,a I said, but I didnat know what to do in my happy state. I was still hesitant to let myself let go, because I still believed in the fragility of happiness.

aCome on, man, cheer up.a Mohamed pulled my ears, and he and Esther lifted me up and carried me back to the hospital, laughing. At the hospital Esther put the Bob Marley ca.s.sette on the tape player, and we all began to mime aThree Little Birdsa together. aDonat worry about a thing,a we sang, aacause every little thing gonna be all rightaa That night I sat on the verandah with Mambu, Alhaji, and Mohamed. We were quiet, as usual. The sound of an ambulance somewhere in the city took over the silence of the night. I began to wonder about what my uncle was doing at that moment. I imagined him gathering his family to tell them about me. I could see him sobbing during his account and his family gradually joining him in crying. Part of me wanted them to cry as much as they could before I met them, as I always felt uncomfortable when people cried because of what I had been through. I looked at Alhaji and Mambu, who were staring into the dark night. I wanted to tell them about the discovery of my uncle, but I felt guilty, since no one from their families had been found. I also didnat want to destroy the silence that had returned after the ambulanceas wailing died down.

As my uncle promised, he came to visit every weekend.

aMy uncle is coming. I saw him down the road by the mango tree,a I told Esther the first weekend after his initial visit.

aYou sound excited.a She put her pen down. She examined my face for a while and then continued. aI told you he seemed like a good man.a My uncle walked through the door and wiped his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief before hugging me. He said h.e.l.lo to Esther during our embrace. As soon as we stood apart, he began to smile so widely that my face relaxed and I too began to smile. He put his bag on the floor and pulled out some biscuits and a bottle of cold ginger beer.

aI thought you might need some fuel for our walk,a he said as he handed me the presents.

aYou two should take the gravel road up the hill,a Esther suggested. My uncle and I nodded in agreement.

aI wonat be here when you return. It is nice meeting you again, sir,a she said, looking at my uncle. She turned toward me. aI will see you tomorrow.a My uncle and I left the hospital room and started walking in the direction Esther had suggested. We were quiet at first. I listened to the sound of our footsteps on the dusty road. I could hear the rattling of lizards crossing the road to climb the nearby mango tree. I could feel my uncleas eyes on me.

aHow is everything? Are they treating you well at this place?a my uncle asked.

aEverything is fine here,a I replied.

aI hope you are not as quiet as your father.a He wiped his forehead again and then asked, aDid your father ever talk about his home?a aSometimes he did, although not as much as I wished he had.a I raised my lowered head and briefly met my uncleas kind, inviting eyes before looking away. The gravel road was getting narrower as we approached the bottom of the hill. I told him that my father had mentioned him in every one of his stories of a troublesome childhood. Told him that my father had recounted to me about the time they went to the bush to fetch firewood and accidentally shook a beehive. The bees chased them and they ran toward the village. Since my father was shorter, most of the bees concentrated on my uncleas head. They ran and dove into a river, but the bees circled on top of the water waiting for them to resurface. They had to catch their breath, so they got out of the water and ran to their village, bringing the bees with them.

aYes, I remember. Everyone was upset with us for bringing the bees to the village, because they stung the old men who couldnat run fast and some younger children. Your father and I locked the door, hid under the bed, and laughed at the commotion.a My uncle was giggling and I couldnat help but laugh. After he stopped laughing, he sighed and said, aAh, your father and I, we did too many troublesome things. If you are as troublesome as we were, I will give you some leeway, because it wouldnat be fair for me to get down on you.a He put his arm around my shoulder.

aI think my troublesome days are long gone,a I said sadly.

aAh, you are still a boy, you have time to be a little more troublesome,a my uncle said. We became quiet again and listened to the evening wind whizzing through the trees.

I loved the walks with my uncle, because they gave me a chance to talk about my childhood, about growing up with my father and older brother. I needed to talk about those good times before the war. But the more I talked about my father, the more I missed my mother and little brother, too. I didnat grow up with them. I felt as if I missed that chance and would never get it again, and that made me sad. I spoke to my uncle about it, but he just listened, because he knew neither my mother nor my little brother. So in order to balance things out for me, he made me talk about the time my family lived in Mattru Jong, when my parents were together. Even then, there wasnat that much to say, as my parents separated when I was very young.

I got to know my uncle quite well during our walks, and I began to eagerly await his arrival on weekends. He always brought me a present and would tell me about his week. He talked about the roof he had built for someoneas house, the beautiful table he had to complete the next day by polishing it, how well my cousins were doing in school. He said h.e.l.lo from his wife. I in turn would tell him about the table tennis and soccer tournaments I had partic.i.p.ated in, the performance we had given for visitors, if there was any that week. We walked so many times on the same gravel road that I could close my eyes and still avoid all the big rocks on the road.

One weekend my uncle took me to meet his family. It was a Sat.u.r.day and the sun was so bright that we couldnat see our shadows on the ground. He lived in New England Ville, a hilly area in the western part of Freetown. My uncle came to Benin Home earlier than usual to get me. We took a noisy lorry to the center of the city. My uncle and I were quiet for a while, but began to laugh, because the two men sitting next to us were discussing which palm wine was better, one that was tapped from a standing palm tree or one from a fallen tree. The men were still arguing when we got off the lorry. We walked slowly toward my uncleas house, his arm around my shoulders. I was happy walking with my uncle, but I worried whether his family would accept me the way he hada"without asking me anything about my war years.

As we walked up the hill, nearing my uncleas home, he pulled me aside and said, aI told only my wife about your past life as a soldier. I kept it secret from my children. I donat think they will understand now as my wife and I do. I hope it is okay with you.a Relieved, I nodded, and we continued on.

Immediately after a bend and a rise on the gravel road we came upon my uncleas house. It overlooked the city, and from the verandah one could see the ships in the bay. It was a beautiful view of the city, this place that was to become my home. The house had no electricity or running water, and the kitchen that stood apart from the house was made entirely of zinc. Under a mango tree a few meters from the yard was the latrine and the kulea"open-air shower. It reminded me of Mattru Jong.

When we walked onto the verandah, my uncleas wife came out, her face glowing as if she had polished it all her life. She stood at the doorway and tied her wrapper before proceeding to embrace me so tightly that I felt my nose and lips being squashed against her arms. She released me, stood back, and pinched my cheeks.

aWelcome, my son,a she said. She was a short woman with very dark skin, round cheekbones, and bright eyes. My uncle didnat have children of his own, so he raised the children of family members as his own. There were four of thema"Allie, the oldest one; Matilda; Kona; and Sombo, the littlest, who was six years old. They had all stopped doing their ch.o.r.es and came onto the verandah to hug their abrother,a as my uncle explained my relation to them.

aIt is good to have another boy in the family,a Allie said after he hugged me. He and my uncle laughed and I smiled. I was very quiet that afternoon. After the introduction, everyone went about his or her business. I was left with my aunt and uncle, and we sat on the verandah. I loved the view from the house and kept looking toward the city. Each time I turned to look at my uncle, he was smiling widely. My aunt continually brought us huge plates of rice, fish, stew, and plantains. She made me eat so much that my stomach became too big. After we had finished eating, my uncle showed me his carpentry tools and his worktable, which was outside, occupying most of the little yard.

aIf you are interested in carpentry, I will be glad to have you as my apprentice. But knowing your father, I could probably guess that you want to go to school,a my uncle said. I smiled and didnat say a word. Allie came back and asked Uncle if it was okay for me to go with him to a local soccer match. My uncle said only if I wanted to. I went with Allie down the street to a field in an area called Brookfields.

aI am happy that you will be staying with us, we can share my room,a Allie said as we waited for the game to begin. He was older than I was and had finished secondary school. He was jovial and very disciplined. It showed in his manners. He spoke well and to the point. Before the game started, a girl waved to us from the other side of the field. She had the most beautiful and open smile, and she was laughing a lot. I was about to ask who she was when Allie spoke. aShe is our cousin, but she lives across the street with a foster family. Her name is Aminata. You will get to meet her.a Aminata was the daughter of my fatheras second brother, who had a different mother. I later became closer to her and Allie than to the other children in my new family.

During my many walks with my uncle, I learned that my grandfather had many wives and that my father had brothers he never talked about. My father was the only child from his motheras side.

At the soccer match, all I could think about was the discovery of a family I never thought existed. I was happy, but I had become accustomed to not showing it. Allie laughed throughout the game, and I couldnat even get myself to smile. When we returned, my uncle was on the verandah, waiting to take me back to the center. He held my hand as we walked to the bus station. I was quiet the entire trip. I spoke only to thank my uncle after he had given me transportation money to use if I decided to visit on my own. At the entrance of the center, my uncle hugged me, and as we parted, he turned around and said, aIall see you soon again, my son.a

19.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER, Leslie had told me that I was to be arepatriateda and reinstated into normal society. I was to live with my uncle. Those two weeks felt longer than the eight months I had spent at Benin Home. I was worried about living with a family. I had been on my own for years and had taken care of myself without any guidance from anyone. I was afraid that I might look ungrateful to my uncle, who didnat have to take me in, if I distanced myself from the family unit. I was worried about what to do when my nightmares and migraines took hold of me. How was I going to explain my sadness, which I am unable to hide as it takes over my face, to my new family, especially the children? I didnat have answers to these questions, and when I told Esther about them, she told me that everything was going to be fine, but I wanted more than just a rea.s.surance.

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 didnat know. I stopped playing soccer and table tennis. I went to see Esther every day, though, and would say h.e.l.lo, ask how she was, and then get lost in my own head thinking about what life was going to be like after the center. Sometimes Esther would have to snap her fingers in front of my face to bring me back. At night, I quietly sat on the verandah with Mohamed, Alhaji, and Mambu. I wouldnat notice when they left the bench that we all sat on.

When the day of my repatriation finally came, I packed my few belongings in a plastic bag. I had a pair of sneakers, four T-shirts, three shorts, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a bottle of Vaseline lotion, a Walkman and some ca.s.settes, two long-sleeved shirts, and two pairs of pants and a tiea"these had been bought for me to wear for my conference talks. I waited, my heart beating faster, the way it had when my mother dropped me off for the first time at a boarding school. The van was heard galloping on the gravel road, making its way to the center. Picking up my plastic bag, I walked to the hospital building where I was to wait. Mohamed, Alhaji, and Mambu were sitting on the front steps, and Esther emerged, smiling. The van made a turn and halted at the side of the road. It was late afternoon, the sky was still blue, but the sun was dull, hiding behind the only cloud. Leslie sat in the front seat and waited for me to board, so he could take me to my new home.

aI have to go,a I said to everyone, my voice shaking. I extended my hand to Mohamed, but instead of shaking it, he leapt up and hugged me. Mambu embraced me while Mohamed was still holding me. He squeezed me hard, as if he knew it was goodbye forever. (After I left the center, Mambu went back to the front lines, because his family refused to take him in.) At the end of the hug, Alhaji shook hands with me. We squeezed each otheras hand and stared into each otheras eyes, remembering all that we had been through. I tapped him on the shoulder and he smiled, as he understood that I was saying we were going to be fine. I never saw him again, since he continually moved from one foster home to another. At the end of our handshake, Alhaji stepped back, saluted me, and whispered, aGoodbye, squad leader.a I tapped him on the shoulder again; I couldnat salute him in return. Esther stepped forward, her eyes watery. She hugged me tighter than she ever had. I didnat return her hug very well, as I was busy trying to hold back my tears. After she let go, she gave me a piece of paper. aThis is my address. Come by anytime,a she said.

I went to Estheras home several weeks after that. My timing wasnat good, as she was on her way to work. She hugged me, and this time I squeezed back; this made her laugh after we stood apart. She looked me straight in the eyes. aCome and see me next weekend so we can have more time to catch up, okay?a she said. She was wearing her white uniform and was on her way to take on other traumatized children. It must be tough living with so many war stories. I was just living with one, mine, and it was difficult, as the nightmares about what had happened continued to torment me. Why does she do it? Why do they all do it? I thought as we went our separate ways. It was the last time I saw her. I loved her but never told her.

My uncle picked me up in his arms as soon as I got off the van and carried me onto the verandah. aI welcome you today like a chief. Your feet may touch the ground when you lose your chieftaincy, which begins now,a my uncle said, laughing, as he set me down. I smiled but was nervous. My four cousinsa"Allie and the three girls, Matilda, Kona, and Somboa"took turns hugging me, their faces bright with smiles.

aYou must be hungry; I cooked you a welcome home sackie thomboi,a my aunt said. She had made ca.s.sava leaves with chicken just to welcome me. To have chicken prepared for anyone was a rarity, and it was considered an honor. People ate chicken only on holidays like Christmas or New Yearas. Auntie Sallay held my hand and made me sit on a bench next to my uncle. She brought the food out, and my uncle and I ate together from the same plate with our hands. It was a good meal and I licked my fingers, enjoying the rich palm oil. My uncle looked at me, laughing, and said to his wife, aSallay, you have done it again. This one is here to stay.a After we washed our hands, my cousin Allie, twenty-one years old, was called to the verandah and asked to show me where I was to sleep. I took my plastic bag and followed him to another house that was behind the one with my uncleas bedroom. The pa.s.sageway between the houses was like a pathway with stones carefully placed on each side of the walkway.

Allie held the door for me as I entered the clean, organized room. The bed was made, the clothes that hung on a post were ironed, the shoes were properly lined on a rack, and the brown tile floor was shiny. He pulled a mattress from under the bed and explained to me that I would sleep on the floor, as he and his roommate shared the bed. I was to fold the mattress and put it back under the bed every morning. After he was done explaining how I could contribute to keeping the room clean and in order, I went back to the verandah and sat with my uncle. He put his arm around me and pulled on my nose.

aAre you familiar with the city?a Uncle asked.

aNot really.a aAllie will take you around sometime, if you like. Or you can venture out there yourself, get lost, and find your way. It will be a good way to get to know the city.a He chuckled. We heard a call for prayer that echoed throughout the city.

aI have to go for prayers. If you need anything, ask your cousins,a he said, taking a kettle from the stoop and beginning to perform ablution. After he was done, he walked down the hill to a nearby mosque. My aunt came out of the room, tying her head with a cloth, and followed my uncle.

I sighed, sitting alone on the verandah. I was no longer nervous, but I missed Benin Home. Later that night, when my uncle and aunt returned from prayers, all my new family gathered around a ca.s.sette player on the verandah to listen to stories. My uncle rubbed his hands, pressed the play b.u.t.ton, and a famous storyteller named Leleh Gbomba began telling a story about a man who had forgotten his heart at home when he went traveling around the world. I had heard the story in my grandmotheras village when I was younger. My new family laughed throughout the telling of the story. I only smiled and was very quiet that night, as I was to be for a while more. But gradually I adjusted to being around people who were happy all the time.

A day or two after I had started living with my uncle, Allie gave me my first pair of dress shoes, a dress belt, and a stylish shirt.

aIf you want to be a gentleman, you have to dress like one.a He laughed. I was about to ask him why he had given me these things when he began to explain: aThis is a secret. I want to take you to a dance tonight so you can enjoy yourself. We will leave after Uncle goes to bed.a That night we snuck out and went dancing at a pub. As Allie and I walked, I remembered when I used to go dancing back in secondary school with friends. It seemed so long ago, but I still recalled the different names of the dance nights: aBack to School,a aPens Down,a aBob Marley Night,a and many more. We would dance until c.o.c.kcrow, then take off our sweaty shirts, enjoying the cool morning breeze as we walked back to our dorms. I was truly happy back then.

aWe are here,a Allie said, shaking my hand and snapping his fingers. There were lots of young people waiting in line to get into the pub. The boys were well dressed, their pants ironed and shirts tucked in. The girls wore beautiful flowered dresses and high heels that made them taller than some of the boys they were with. Their lips were also painted with bright colors. Allie was excited and he chatted with the people in front of us. I was quiet, looking at the different colored lights that hung at the entrance. There was one big blue light that made peopleas white shirts especially beautiful. We finally made it to the entrance and Allie paid for the two of us. The music was extremely loud inside, but then again, I had not been to a pub for many years. I followed Allie to the bar area, where we found a table and sat on two high stools.

aI am going to the dance floor,a Allie announced, screaming so that I could hear him. He disappeared into the crowd. I sat for a while scoping out the place, and slowly began dancing by myself in the corner of the dance floor. Suddenly an extremely dark girl whose smile illuminated the dance floor pulled me and led me to the middle of the floor before I could resist. She started dancing close to me. I looked back at Allie, who was standing at the bar. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I began to move slowly until the rhythm took over. I danced one raggamorphy song with the girl, and then there was a slow jam. She pulled me toward her and I held her hand delicately as we swayed to the music. I could feel her heart beat. She tried to catch my eyes, but I looked away. In the middle of the song, some older boy pulled her away from me. She waved as she was being escorted through the crowd and toward the door.

aYou are smooth, man. I saw that.a Allie was now standing next to me. He began walking toward the bar, and I followed him. We leaned against the counter, facing the dance floor. He was still smiling.

aI really didnat do anything. She just wanted to dance with me and I couldnat say no,a I said.

aExactly, you say nothing and the women come to you,a he teased. I didnat want to talk anymore. A memory of a town we had attacked during a school dance had been triggered. I could hear the terrified cries of teachers and students, could see the blood cover the dance floor. Allie tapped me on the shoulder and brought me back to the present. I smiled at him, but I was deeply sad for the rest of our stay. We danced all night and returned before Uncle woke up.

A few nights later, I returned to the pub alone and saw the same girl. She told me her name was Zainab.

aSorry about last time,a she said. aMy brother wanted to go home and I had to go with him, otherwise my parents would have gotten worried.a Like me, she was alone this night.

I dated her for three weeks, but then she began to ask too many questions. Where was I from? What was it like growing up upline? Upline is a Krio word mostly used in Freetown to refer to the backwardness of the inner country, its inhabitants, and their mannerisms. I was unwilling to tell her anything, so she broke it off. That was the story of my relationship with girls in Freetown. They wanted to know about me, and I wasnat ready to tell them. It was okay. I liked being alone.

Leslie came to see me. He asked how I was doing and what I had been up to. I wanted to tell him that I had had one severe migraine wherein the image of a burning village flashed in my mind, followed by wailings of many voices; that I had felt the back of my neck tighten and my head become heavy, as if a huge rock had been placed on it. Instead, I told him only that everything was fine. Leslie pulled out a pad and began writing something on it. When he was done he turned to me and said, aI have a proposition for you. It is important.a aAlways the bearer of news, arenat you?a I joked.

aThis is important.a He studied the pad he held in his hand and continued. aThere is an interview for two children to be sent to the United Nations in New York, in America, to talk about the lives of children in Sierra Leone and what can be done about it. Mr. Kamara, the director of your former rehabilitation center, recommended that you go for the interview. Here is the address, if you are interested.a He tore the paper off and handed it to me. As I was looking at it, he went on: aIf you want me to go with you, come by the office. Dress up for the interview, okay?a He searched my face for an answer. I didnat say anything. Afterward, he left with a smile on his face that said he knew I would show up for the interview.

The day of the interview finally arrived, and I dressed casually for it. I wore sneakers, nice black pants, and a green long-sleeved shirt. I tucked my shirt in as I walked down to Siaka Stevens Street to the address that Leslie had given me. I told no one where I was going. I had wanted to talk to Allie about it, but hesitated, because I knew that if I did, I would have to tell him more than he knew about me, more than my uncle had told him.

It was almost midday, but the tar road was already too hot. I watched a flying plastic bag land on the road and immediately begin to melt. Poda podas went by, their apprentices shouting the names of their destinations to attract customers. A few feet ahead a vehicle had stopped on the side of the street and the driver was pouring water from a jerrican into its overheated engine. aThis car drinks more water than a cow,a he grumbled. I was walking slowly, but my undershirt got soaked with sweat.

When I arrived at the address, I stood in front of the tall building and marveled at its height before entering. In the lobby there were about twenty boys, all dressed better than I. Their parents were giving them last-minute points for the interview. I studied the big cement columns in the building. I liked thinking about how people had managed to create and erect such large cement pillars. I was busy examining one pillar when a man tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was there for the interview. I nodded, and he pointed to the open metal box that all the boys now stood in. I hesitantly walked into the congested box and the boys laughed at me, as I stood there unaware that I had to press the b.u.t.ton for the box to start moving. I had never been in a box like this before. Where was it taking us? A boy in a blue shirt squeezed his way past me and pressed the number 5 b.u.t.ton. It lit up, and the box closed on us. I looked about me and saw that everyone was calm, so I knew that there was no need to worry. The box began to move up, fast. The other boys remained calm, adjusting their ties and shirts. When the doors opened, I was the last to step out into a large open room with brown leather couches. There was a man sitting at the desk at the far wall and he motioned for me to find a place to sit. The other boys had already seated themselves. I sat away from them and looked about the room. Through the window I could see the tops of other buildings, and I decided to get up and look around to see how high up from the ground we were. As I was making my way to the window, my name was called.

A really light-skinned man (I couldnat tell if he was Sierra Leonean or not) sat in a big black leather chair. aPlease have a seat and I will be with you in a moment,a he said in English, and he shuffled through some papers, picked up a phone, and dialed a number. When the person picked up on the other end, the man just said, aIt is a go-ahead,a and hung up.

He turned toward me and eyed me for a bit before he began to question me, speaking very slowly, in English.

aWhat is your name?a he asked, looking at the list of names on his desk.

aIshmael,a I said, and he checked my name before I could tell him my last name.

aWhy do you think you should go to the UN to present the situation affecting children in this country?a He raised his head from the list and looked at me.

aWell, I am from the part of the country where I have not only suffered because of the war but I have also partic.i.p.ated in it and undergone rehabilitation. So I have a better understanding, based on my experience of the situation, than any of these city boys who are here for the interview. What are they going to say when they go over there? They donat know anything about the war except the news of it.a I looked at the man, who was smiling, and it made me a bit angry.

aWhat else do you have to say?a he asked.

aNothing, except that I am wondering why you are smiling.a I sat back in the soft leather chair.

aYou can go now,a the man said, still smiling.

I got up and left the room, leaving the door open behind me. I walked toward the box and stood by it. I stood there and waited for several minutes, but nothing happened. I didnat know what to do to make the box come upstairs. The boys who were waiting for the interview began to laugh. Then the man who sat behind the desk walked toward me and pushed a b.u.t.ton on the wall. The doors immediately opened and I walked in. The man pressed the number 1 b.u.t.ton and waved to me as the doors closed. I tried to find something to hold on to, but the box was already at street level. I walked out of the building and stood outside examining its structure. I have to tell Mohamed about the inside of this marvelous building when I see him, I thought.

I walked home slowly that afternoon, watching the cars go by. I didnat think much about the interview except that I still wondered why the man who had interviewed me had smiled. I meant what I said and it was not a funny matter. At some point during my walk, a convoy of cars, military vans, and Mercedes-Benzes festooned with national flags pa.s.sed by. Their windows were tinted, so I couldnat see who rode in them, and they were too fast, anyway. When I got home, I asked Allie if he knew of a powerful man who parades the city in such a way. He told me that it was Tejan Kabbah, the new president, who had won the election under the banner of the Sierra Leone Peoples Party (SLPP) in March 1996, eight months earlier. I had never heard of this man.

That night my uncle brought home a bag of groundnut. Auntie Sallay boiled the groundnut and put it out on a large tray. All of us, my uncle, his wife, Allie, Kona, Matilda, Sombo, and I, sat around the tray and ate the groundnut, listening to another recording of Leleh Gbombaas. He was telling a story about how he became friends with another boy before they were born. Their mothers were neighbors and were pregnant at the same time, so the two of them met while they were still in their mothersa bellies. The storyteller vividly described the landscape of their pre-infant life: the hunting they did, the games they played, how they listened to our worldaIt was a very funny story that took shockingly impossible twists and turns and left us in awe. My uncle, aunt, and cousins laughed so hard that they couldnat stop for hours, even after the story had ended. I began to laugh, too, because my uncle was trying to say something and he was so possessed with laughter that he couldnat say a complete word without launching into another fit of laughter. aWe should do this again. Laughing like this is good for the soul,a my uncle said, still laughing a little. We wished one another a good night and went to our different sleeping places.

One morning Mr. Kamara turned up at my uncleas house in the Children a.s.sociated with the War (CAW) van. He had told me I had been chosen to go to the UN a few days before, but I had only told Mohamed about this, as I didnat actually believe that I was going to travel to New York City. It was before midday when Mr. Kamara arrived and my uncle had left for work. My aunt was in the kitchen; the look on her face told me that my uncle would learn about Mr. Kamaraas visit. I knew then that I would have to tell my uncle about the trip.

aGood morning,a Mr. Kamara said, checking his watch to make sure it was still morning.

aGood morning,a I replied.

aAre you ready to go to town and begin preparation for the trip?a he asked in English. Since Mr. Kamara had found out that I had been chosen to go to the UN, he had spoken only English to me. I said goodbye to my aunt and jumped in the van, and we took off to get me a pa.s.sport. It seemed as if everyone in the city had decided to get pa.s.sports that day, perhaps preparing to leave the country. Luckily, Mr. Kamara had made an appointment, so we didnat have to wait in line. At the counter he presented my photo, the necessary forms, and the fee. A round-faced man carefully examined the doc.u.ments and asked for my birth certificate. aYou have to show me proof that you were born in this country,a the man said. I became really upset and almost slapped the man, who insisted that I must present proof of birth in Sierra Leone even after I had told him that no one had the chance to a.s.semble doc.u.ments of that nature when the war reached them. He was nave about the reality I was trying to explain to him. Mr. Kamara pulled me aside and gently asked me to sit on a bench while he chatted with the man. Eventually he demanded to see his boss. After hours of waiting, someone was able to dig up a copy of my birth certificate, and they told Mr. Kamara to come back for the pa.s.sport in four days.

aThe first step is completed. Now we will have to get you the visa,a Mr. Kamara said as we walked out of the pa.s.sport office. I didnat reply, because I was still upset, exhausted, and just wanted to go home.

My uncle was home when I was dropped off that evening. When I greeted him, he had a smile on his face that said, aTell me what is going on.a I did. I told him that I was to go to the United Nations in New York City and talk about the war, as it relates to children. My uncle didnat believe it. aPeople are always lying to others with such promises. Donat let them get your hopes up, my son,a he said.

Every morning before he left for work, he would say jokingly, aSo what are we doing today in planning to go to America?a Mr. Kamara took me shopping. He bought me a suitcase and some clothes, mostly long-sleeved shirts, dress pants, and traditionally waxed, colorful cotton suits with intricate embroidery on the collars, sleeves, and hems of pants. I showed these things to my uncle, but still he didnat believe that I would be going on the trip.

aMaybe they just want to give you a new look, a more African look, instead of those big pants you always wear,a he joked.

Sometimes my uncle and I went for strolls after work. He would ask how I was doing; I always told him I was fine. He would put his long arms around me and pull me closer. I felt he knew that I wanted to tell him certain things but couldnat find the right words. I hadnat told him that whenever I went to the bush with my cousins to fetch firewood, my mind would begin to wander to things I had seen and done in the past. Standing next to a tree with red frozen sap on its bark would bring flashbacks of the many times we executed prisoners by tying them to trees and shooting them. Their blood stained the trees and never washed off, even during the rainy season. I hadnat told him that often I was reminded of what I had missed by watching the daily activities of families, a child hugging his father, holding his motheras wrap, or holding two parentsa hands, swinging over gutters. It made me wish I could go back to the beginning and change things.

I had been told to meet a man by the name of Dr. Tamba at the American emba.s.sy on Monday morning. As I walked to the emba.s.sy, I listened to the gradual wakening of the city. The call for prayer from the central mosque echoed throughout the city, poda podas crowded the streets, their apprentices hanging on the open pa.s.senger doors and calling out the names of their destinations: aLumley, Lumleya or aCongo Townaa It was still too early when I arrived, but there was already a long line of people waiting outside the emba.s.sy gates. Their faces were sad and filled with uncertainty, as if they awaited some trial that would determine whether they would die or stay alive. I didnat know what to do, so I stood in line. After an hour or so, Dr. Tamba arrived with another boy and asked me to follow him. He looked like a dignified man, so I guess we didnat have to wait in line. The other boy, who was also a former child soldier, introduced himself. aMy name is Bah. I am happy to be going on this journey with you,a he said, shaking my hand. I thought about what my uncleas reply would be to him: aDonat let them get your hopes up, young man.a We sat down on one of the few decent benches in a small open area in the emba.s.sy and waited for our interview. A white woman stood behind a transparent gla.s.s window; her voice came through the speakers underneath it. aWhat is the purpose of your visit to the United States?a she asked, never looking up from the papers before her.

When it was our turn, the woman behind the gla.s.s already had our pa.s.sports. She didnat look at me; rather, she flipped through the pages of my new pa.s.sport. I was very confused about why the window was set up in such a way that the human connection was lost between the interviewer and the interviewee.

aSpeak into the microphone,a she said, and she continued, aWhat is the purpose of your visit to the United States?a aFor a conference,a I said.

aWhat is the conference about?a aIt is generally about issues affecting children around the world,a I explained.

aAnd where is this conference?a aAt the UN in New York City.a aDo you have any guarantee that you will come back to your home country?a I was thinking, when she continued, aDo you have any property, a bank account that will guarantee your return?a I frowned. Do you know anything about peopleas lives in this country? I thought of asking her. If she could only look at me directly, perhaps she wouldnat have asked the last two questions. No one my age in my country has a bank account or even dreams of having one, much less property to declare. Mr. Tamba told her that he was the CAW chaperon going on the trip with us and that he would make sure that we returned to Sierra Leone at the end of the conference.

The woman asked me the final question: aDo you know anyone in the United States?a aNo, I have never been anywhere out of this country, and this is actually my first time in this city,a I told her. She closed my pa.s.sport and put it aside. aCome back at four-thirty.a Outside, Dr. Tamba told us that we had gotten the visas and that he would pick up the pa.s.sports and hold on to them until the day of our departure. It had finally begun to look as if we were going to travel, even though I had seen my pa.s.sport only at a glance.

I held my suitcase in my right hand and was wearing brown traditional summer pants with zigzag thread patterns at the bottom and a T-shirt. My uncle was sitting on the verandah when I came from Allieas room.

aI am on my way to the airport,a I said, smiling, as I knew my uncle was going to be sarcastic.

aSure. Give me a call when you get to America. Well, I donat have a phone, so call Aminataas house and she can come and get me.a My uncle giggled.

aOkay, I will,a I said, giggling as well.

aAh, children, come and say goodbye to your brother. I do not know where he is going, but he needs our blessings,a my uncle said. Matilda, Kona, and Sombo came to the verandah holding buckets in their hands. They were on their way to fetch water. They hugged me and wished me luck on my journey. My aunt came out of the kitchen smelling of smoke and hugged me. aWherever you are going, you will need to smell like your home. This is my perfume to you.a She giggled and stepped back. My uncle stood up and hugged me, put his arm around my shoulder and said, aMy good wishes are with you. So I will see you later for dinner, then.a He went back to sit in his chair on the verandah.

20.

MY CONCEPTION OF NEW YORK CITY came from rap music. I envisioned it as a place where people shot each other on the street and got away with it; no one walked on the streets, rather people drove in their sports cars looking for nightclubs and for violence. I really wasnat looking forward to being somewhere this crazy. I had had enough of that back home.

It was dark when the plane landed at John F. Kennedy International Airport. It was 4:30 p.m. I asked Dr. Tamba why it was dark so early in this country. aBecause it is winter,a he said. aOh!a I nodded, but the early darkness still didnat make sense to me. I knew the word awintera from Shakespeareas texts and I thought I should look up its meaning again.