I have walked many roads during my life, some good, and some bad. I have always had a very photographic memory, ever since my grandfather gave me that medicine. My thoughts are carried with me everywhere like a heavy load on my back. I have seen horrible and tragic things, bloody and gruesome actions. The war took away my childhood that I so desperately wanted back. It makes furious that I allowed myself to be brainwashed and to fight and kill without an ounce of feeling. I feel shame for all the lives I took for the sake of “revenge”. Memories can not be erased and my memories seem as endless as the sand on the seashore. The sand reminds me of the time when the kind fisherman helped my friends and me after being set free from a hostile village.
I write because I remember and I want others to know what we boys went through. I do not write for others to feel sympathy. The things that happened in my life are in the past. Sympathy will get us nowhere, rather it is how you will respond and act to help prevent such tragic things to happen again. I would never wish it upon anyone to go through what I and many others did. I write for my culture. It is traditional in Mende culture to tell stories. I remember the many times that I heard the story of Bra Spider. I want to stray true to my heritage and carry on this tradition. But mostly I write for me and the people I love most. I want to share my story and answer the many questions that I have been asked. I have been blessed to be surrounded by friends and family that encourage and guide. I believe I owe it to them. I write because it’s the right thing to do.
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