On a trip to Kabala, in the northern province of Sierra Leone, we met a remarkable woman, Mammy Sara, and heard her story.
Mammy Sara lives in what’s known locally as the Amputee Camp. Back in 2002, in the aftermath of the country’s brutal civil war, the Norwegian Refugee Council acquired land across the country to build houses for amputees and war-wounded. Fifteen of those were built in the town of Kabala.
During the war, Mammy Sara and her husband farmed a small holding. She was out working the fields one day when she heard shots and immediately thought that the rebels had come and shot her husband and children. Rushing back to the village, she met the rebels who called her over, assuring her they had come to save her and the rest of the village.
Wanting to believe this was true, the village opened its doors and welcomed them.
But it was a false promise.
Later they shot Mammy Sara in the chest when she was in her house. The bullet went clean through, exiting under her right armpit.
Many others were not so lucky.
‘Many of my neighbours died that day’, she said.
They then set fire to the grass huts, hers included.
‘The heat of the fire was unbearable’, she recalled.
Despite the odds, she managed to crawl into the bush where she lay for three days, fading in and out with the pain.
The bleeding stopped of its own accord, her wound clotting naturally.
Her dad finally found her and took her to the nearest town. From there she was taken to Freetown, to Connaught Hospital where she was operated on.
There, she said, God gave her back her life.
She pulled up her top and showed us her scar.
It was incredibly moving to see how strong this woman is.
When the NRC built the village and gave her the deeds to her new home, they also gave her a loom and taught her to weave the traditional Salone country cloth.
Hers is one of three looms in the village.
Her office, she told us with a smile, waving her hand around her, is outside.
Weaving requires a lot of patience. It takes time. But she’s getting older now, and slowing down.
Her daughter, Sunkarie, has come home from Freetown to carry on the family business, a business that has put all Mammy Sara’s kids through college.
Her determination is remarkable.
As she spoke about the rebels, she said that before she met them, she didn’t think they were human.
She thought, she said, they were monkeys and had tails.
Others nodded in agreement.
They, too, had thought the same. Animals with tails. Not human. How could they do what they did and be human?
Stories of the atrocities had made their way around the country to places the rebels hadn’t yet been. News of their brutality travelled before them. So when they finally came, the shock of realising that they were human, ‘just like me’, she said, was, well, shocking.
Naomi, who owns and runs the nearby Hill View Guest House where we were staying, agreed.
She was in Freetown with her family when the rebels came. She was maybe 6 or 7, hiding in the basement with her siblings listening to the argument going on above.
The rebels wanted her father to give them fuel so that they could burn down his house.
‘I don’t have a car. I don’t have a bike. I don’t have any fuel’, he said. ‘If you want to burn down my house you have to go and get your own fuel.’
They took her older sister to marry her off but thankfully, she was returned the next day, unharmed. Four of her neighbours were shot that day.
I can’t begin to imagine what living in Salone was like during those tumultuous years. I’m not sure I even want to try.
Meeting people like Mammy Sara and Naomi has put a face to what until now has been an abstract war. Something I’ve read about. Yet another example of man’s inhumanity to man.
I love to travel, to visit new places, and experience new things. When travel changes me on some fundamental level, that’s a bonus.
While we were hiking up Senekedugu, I willed myself to keep going.
If Mammy Sara could have survived three days in the bush after being shot, surely I could get to the top of this mountain.
I pushed and pushed, wanting to find strength and inspiration in her story.
But I found something more.
I found pragmatism.
Mammy Sara had wanted to live. That’s what drove her.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t at all pushed about getting to the top of a mountain, especially as it would wreak havoc on my back. Why was I worried about saving face?
So I sat.
And said my rosary.
And gave thanks for the few minutes we had spent in each other’s company and the lesson I learned.
Next time before I go all out to do something I feel I should do out of guilt or obligation or for the sake of appearance, I’ll remember Mammy Sara. And I’ll think again.
Magical.
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2 responses
Beautiful story and message❤️
What a magical woman and story. Truly inspirational, and your revelation at the end a good one for us all to adopt.