Civil War

It is routinely amazing to compare the perspectives between Americans and Sierra Leonians. It's easy to come here and say:
'Wow, half of Waterloo doesn't have electricity?'
'Can you believe that people can buy injection Ceftriaxone and IV malaria meds in the street? Isn't that dangerous?'
'Look at all these cars that look to be on the edge of just falling apart!'
'Sometimes they eat plain rice for 2 meals a day!'

But if you catch a Sierra Leonian in a good mood, they can easily talk about all the improvements: cellphones, good roads, less people are dying because drugs are more available, electricity is more reliable. Oh, and the civil war and Ebola are over.

Both of those events still weigh frequently on the mind of the people. There's a region of houses called 'camp,' because that's where the refugee camps used to be. Mr. Abu knows many of our patients because, "They lived near us in the camps." Even when I'm talking about histories of disease, people talk about before or after Ebola and before and after the war to describe time. Time is squishy here, so Ebola is roughly 2014-2016 and War from 1991-2003.

About a month ago I was hanging around and chatting in Danquah's office. He is the hospital chaplain and district evangelist. The district pastor and some other people were also there. I don't even remember how we got started talking about the war, but it was story after story of atrocity. I'll keep it brief and don't worry, the conclusion is surprisingly redemptive.

A squad of soldiers walks up to you and demands you take off your shirt. Then they ask, do you want a long sleeve or a short sleeve shirt? If you don't answer, you get shot. If you say long sleeve, they cut off your hands at the wrist. Short sleeve, and you're off mid humerus.
They find a pregnant woman. An argument breaks out, is it a boy or a girl? They place bets and find out in the most barbaric way possible.
If they meet someone with dirty hands, they bring them to a kitchen with boiling oil. They demand that you wash your hands, or be shot.

But the crux of the stories in the office wasn't evil, it was restoration. After the war, I was told that the government made a huge effort to take all the guns, provide amnesty, and provide work and trust to the majority of the rebels. Because they had integration, a purpose, and were spread throughout society, things have remained peaceful. I was told that I've interacted with many rebels and never known it.

With these memories so fresh for almost all the adults, it sometimes manifests as judgement on the younger generation. They will see children using sticks as guns and swords and scoff, 'Ah, these Pikin (children) don't know anything about war!' This wasn't explicitly told to me, but it was implied that sometimes adults forcefully break up children's war games.

When I compare my perceptions and focus on Sierra Leonian poverty with their perceptions of progress and hope I am humbled. When I feel like life is difficult here, I'm immediately shamed anytime I leave my front door. This contrast has also forced me to compare cultural values.

This whole blog post spawned after listening to a song written in the 1960's about childhood in America. Its discussion centers around war toys and culture. I grew up in the deep American south with trucks, guns, and camo. It's nostalgic and pleasant to me. But in Africa, I'm reminded daily that every culture has both something to learn and something to share. For now, I'm only learning.




Tom Paxton "Buy A Gun For Your Son" 1965
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WphNO24h9nA&t=0s