The Other Side of the Ocean

By Beverley Bell

In Freetown, Sierra Leone, the boy Saah Kamandu is enjoying a secure and loving childhood in the care of his family. His days are filled with school, soccer, friends and family. His main concern is to succeed at school.

This changes dramatically when r

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookTrail Publishing
• Release date: Aug 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637674031

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Copyright © 2021 by Beverley Bell.

ISBN-978-1-63767-402-4 (Paperback)

ISBN-978-1-63767-403-1 (Ebook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Chapter 1

There was always war. Saah sometimes heard Papa and Mama talking about before the war but that was a time he could not understand. There was always war. He heard Papa say once that the war was about diamonds and the government should make it stop.Saah didn’t feel scared about it, the war was out in the villages and he knew he was safe in Freetown.

Except once. Once when the peace keeping force was going from door to door in his street Saah saw his neighbour’s daughter step outside, probably trying to see what was going on. They shot her. One minute she was standing in her yard and the next she was dead, with a bullet hole in her head and a puddle of blood where she had been standing. Saah resolved to keep well clear of the peace keeping force. He went to find Papa, told him what he had witnessed and said he wanted to know now, why there was a war anyway and why the girl had been shot.

He was surprised that Papa did not respond to him immediately as he usually did. Papa said he knew about the shooting and as soon as it was safe he would visit the neighbours and find out what he could do to help. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, blew noisily into a large handkerchief and turned to face his young son. Saah suddenly realised his father was deeply distressed and regarded his impulsive demand for information with regret. Papa sighed heavily, swallowed and resolutelygave his attention to Saah.I can tell you as much as I know he said, Are you ready for a bit of a history lesson? Saah said he was.

Sierra Leone used to be ruled by Britain but we became independent in 1961.

What do you mean-became independent?

It means we stopped being ruled by another country and became our own boss. Stop interrupting and listen. He raised one eyebrow at Saah, a trick Saah recognised as a sign he was getting impatient. Saah asked him to continue.

Papa gave Saah a level glance and continued. "Where was I? Oh Yes. Well when Sierra Leone became independent in 1961 things did not go well. A lot of people in charge were crooks really, just out to line their own pockets. Many people got fed up and that led to violence and more corruption. Before you ask,corruption means doing your job dishonestly Saah. Things got so bad that a rebel army was formed and they are trying to overthrow the government. They have taken over many of the villages. If they can get control of the capital, Freetown, where we live, they will be able to take over the whole country."

Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Saah wanted to know.

I very much doubt it. Rebelling against the government of a country is not the way to go. And all I’ve seen from the rebels is murder and violence andhatred and self-interest. Worse than the government ever was. And I haven’t even mentioned the diamonds.

What about the diamonds?

We’ll talk more about that later if you’re interested. Our country is rich in diamonds and whoever controls the diamond mines could make millions. But that’s enough for now. We’ll talk again later.

Saah knew the conversation was over for now. He had seen that Papa was both angry and sad about the shooting and about the war. Papa took his leadership role seriously, often speaking out about any injustice he saw if it impacted on his neighbours and friends.

Papa was a busy man so Saah did not often get the chance to speak alone with him. Yet he felt a sense of security in his home, with clear rules and much praise and encouragement when it was earned. There was often laughter and teasing, happy loving, good natured fun. Most of the time he considered his life was normal, sometimes exciting, sometimes a bit boring. There was church, school, soccer and music and lots of other kids.

His home was familiar and comfortable, something of a sanctuary for family and extended family, in fact anyone who needed a place to relax or shower or sleep. Or visit the latrine. Rarely did Saah arrive home from school to a house filled with less than twenty people. There was not much money but they always had enough for food, for a comfortable bed and a little left over to help others. Besides they had a huge breadfruit tree in the yard, food to spare when the season was right. And a comfortable shade to lounge in when it was too hot to play.

He shared his home with Mama, whose name was Fatou, his sister Tenneh and of course Papawhose name was also Saah. Papa was alocal elder, an important member of the community. He had an office, separate from the main house, called his burffa. Here he met with local and visiting dignitaries and occasionally facilitated ceremonial rituals.

Saah was an only son so he would one day follow Papa into a leadership role. Papa often told him that being a leader carried a lot of responsibility. It meant being a servant to the people he led. Saah had no problem understanding this concept as he saw it being enacted daily in Papa’s everyday concerns. It was a way of life. Right now, Papa said, it was Saah’s responsibility to get a good education.

School began at 8:20am with Assembly and prayers every week morning. Saah was only late once and got into so much trouble at home that he took care to always be on time from then on.Along with many of his friends he started school just before he turned four years old when he was enrolled in nursery school. After a year in nursery school he was promoted to Class 1.That was his only free ride. From then on he had to earn his way to the next grade by a combination of hard work throughout the year and passing a selective examination. If he failed he knew he would have to repeat the class as often as needed until he eventually passed. He knew all the classes had at least forty students and only one teacher, so if he didn’t work hard he would fall behind. The teacher would not have enough time to help him. It was that simple.

Saah failed once. He was in Class 3 and enjoying primary school. He loved running and soccer and any type of sport really, sometimes he got a little annoyed when his play time was interrupted by lessons. When he sat the selective exam at the end of his first year in Class 3 he was dismayed to find he had not reached the standard required for the next level. He would have to repeat.

Too playful and not focused enough on his work commented his teacher.

His family was most unimpressed.

Too much play said Papa.

Far too much play said Tenneh and Mama agreed.

You will not fail Class 3 a second time decreed Papa, from now on you will study at home every day before you go out to play. No excuses, no changes. Study before play every day.

Saah was upset. But…but… what about weekends? And holidays? What if the boys need me on their team?

Papa was not to be moved. "Weekends you are free from study. But every week day, whether holidays or not, you will complete your homework and study time before any play time. Is that clear?"

Saah knew when it was useless to argue. He also knew that the rest of the family would watch that he did not skimp on study time. When Papa made a rule it was not disregarded. He told Saah If I see you sneaking out there’ll be big trouble. Saah said he was clear about it.

So Saah’s routine was forcibly changed to make sure he had every chance of meeting all requirements so he could move on to Class 4. He knew there were many kids in Class3 who had failed over and over again. He was seven years old when he failed the exam, the average age for his year, but there were some boys in the class who were aged fifteen. He guessed they would keep on failing because they did not seem to be doing anything about studying or working harder.

Every afternoon, when he got home from school he settled down with his books for some serious study. Outside in the street, where they always played, he could hear his friends shouting and laughing. It was especially hard when they played soccer in the rain, his all-time favourite game. They argued and cheered and very often shouted, Come, Saah, come out and play. We need you. Come on! But he couldn’t go.

Only once did he sneak out in defiance of Papa. Getting out of the house was easy, everyone inside was busy and they didn’t notice when he sidled out the door. It was pouring rain, huge warm droplets cascading down and soaking everyone. The other boys whooped with joy to see him and he was soon engrossed in a noisy muddy game.

He didn’t notice when Papa arrived, but suddenly he was there, in the middle of the road right in the centre of the game. Someone kicked the ball toward him and he grabbed it, held it close to his chest and stood still. There was utter silence, interrupted only by the relentless rain and the squelch of mud between Saah’s bare toes as he shuffled awkwardly before Papa’s accusing glare. The game was over.

Saah was not aware of feeling any shame for his disobedience. He was too embarrassed to feel any other emotion. Back inside his home he took himself off to the nearest unoccupied bed without waiting to be told and hunched once more in front of his books. But he found his eyes filling with tears as he relived in his mind the humiliation of Papa grabbing the ball and stopping the game. He tried to focus on his work but the tears would not stop.

Someone knocked softly and he looked up. It was Tenneh. He suspected that she was the one who told Papa when he sneaked out so he did not want to talk to her. He did not want to talk to anyone just then, but especially not her.

Saah are you all right? Her voice was soft and consoling. He forgave her immediately and sobbed out his woes to her as she sat with him and patted him gently on his heaving shoulders. She waited till he had quietened then said, He’s only being protective Saah. He wants the best for all of us. I know you feel awful about it but he truly cares about your future. He’s told us so many times that we need to get a good education and I know he’ll do whatever he has to so you don’t stuff up. He’s just very protective.

Do you understand how bad I feel? I’ve gotta see all those kids at school tomorrow. What will they say?

They’re probably just glad it was your Papa and not theirs. I bet they’ve all had times when their fathers have made them feel stupid. I know Papa can be embarrassing-he’s certainly made me cringe before.

Tell me. Saah was curious.

You know Musa and I are dating? Saah nodded.

Well you know Papa is very strict about keeping to the ‘courting etiquette’ as he calls it. Musa can’t just come to see me when he feels like it–he has to ask Papa first. Every time?

Every time.

So? Saah was wondering what was Tenneh’s point about all this dating stuff.

"So…not long ago Musa tried to see me without asking. He hid until Papa wasn’t looking then sneaked round to me. But Papa was looking. He chased after Musa and Musa ran away! Papa was shouting at him ‘Go away. Go away. Come back to see Tenneh when you’ve asked me first!’ I thought I would die of embarrassment. I thought Musa would never come back."

She started to chuckle. But it’s funny now.

Saah grinned at her, feeling somewhat mollified. Yeah it does sound pretty funny.

He continued his study regime, finding to his surprise that he was actually starting to enjoy his time with his books. He still struggled to concentrate when the boys called to him but he was resolute in applying himself. He did not want Papa to have any further need to humiliate him.

The games being played outside were a constant distraction, one which he was learning to master. When they played soccer he was aware which team was winning without having to go to the window and check. Sometimes they played tennis. He could hear the preliminary chatter and knew that some of the boys had been selected to draw a makeshift court in the mud or the dust of the street, depending on the weather. He knew that teams were being selected, whether they were playing singles or doubles and who was playing first and who had to wait.

Sometimes the game was tyre rolling if they had been able to salvage an old car or truck tyre from somewhere. Had they found it behind the houses, or the junk yard, or out of the creek? He itched to take part. He loved the excitement of rolling himself up into a little ball inside the old tyre, then being pushed along by a gang of friends or even careering down the hill, landing with a thump at the bottom. The bruises were worth it.

Or were they playing marbles? Everyone had marbles. To be the one to be selected to scratch a hole in the dirt before the game could begin was an honour he coveted. Then the skill of getting your own marble in the hole, allowing you to bump other marbles out of the game! Maybe they could play again on the weekend when he was free.

He could hear the girls playing too. They hardly ever played with the boys, they preferred their own games. Right now their favourite game was skipping. Like the boys they loved playing in the rain and would wield their ropes so skilfully, chanting and skipping in intricate patterns at first slowly then faster and faster until someone was tripped up and was out.They liked playing other games too, especially touch, which involved a lot of running and screaming and fallingover in the mud.

And a weird game called akara. Saah thought it was more like a dance than a game. Dancing on the right foot, then the left foot, round and round singing the special song. Saah had tried it a few times but gave it up. It was a girl’sgame.

School took up a lot of Saah’s time. Not only the actual time at school, but also the getting to and from. He had miles to walk and had to leave home very early in order to be on time. He enjoyed the walk, especially in summer when the morning air was cool and the sun was just rising over the city. He didn’t dawdle, kept up a swift swinging stride, picking up others on the way. If there were puddles they jumped in them of course, splashing each other and arriving at school with muddy feet and clogs of grime squeezed between their toes.

Sometimes when the lessons seemed to drag, Saah grew weary during the afternoon. When that happened he longed to be at home, with the long homeward trudge behind him. In the summer it was hot, the sun still high in the sky and burning down through cotton school shirts and burnishing dark skinned arms with a coppery tinge that would be gone by morning. It was still daylight when he reached his home, still enough day left to play outside even after he had completed the study time required by Papa.

Winter was a different matter. Dawn was just breaking when he left home and he found enjoyment in striding along through rising mist and lazy fingers of sunshine. But home time was a time of dread in winter. The school was situated next door to a graveyard and many a ghost story was concocted by the boys as they jogged bravely by in the summer or raced madly, with hearts thumping and courage gone, in the dark of winter. It was usually just on dark by the time school was dismissed and they formed the habit of always congregating in a group to pass by the graveyard before dispersing to go their separate ways. Saah was one of a group who had the longest distance to walk. He fought with his fear every step of those last few miles in the darkness only daring to relax when he saw the light glowing forth from his home.

Saahusually enjoyed school; the learning, the opportunity to interact with other kids and most of all, soccer. Papa said You need to get a good education. Then you can get a good job and help support our family. After all you’re our only son and you have a sister who will need to be helped. When Saah asked whyhim, Papa told him he was more fortunate than many of the other children, especially those who lived outside the city. They had to work all the time and there was no chance of school for them. They were from very poor families with no one to help them so they had to survive on their own wits as best they could.

Sometimes Saah thought not going to school might not be such a bad thing, especially when he had forgotten to do his homework. But all in all, he accepted that school was a necessary part of life and he determined to make the best of it. After all, it appeared it was his duty and it was a sure way of pleasing Papa.

He had a school uniform. Light cotton white shirt, cotton khaki shorts. Mama had to wash and dry his uniform every evening so it would be ready for school the next day. He had no shoes to wear to school.

No one wore shoes to school-shoes were kept for special occasions like church. Families passed down shoes from oldest to youngest, patching them up as needed. When Saah reached secondary school Papapurchased a new pair of shoes for himself. Before they left for church next day he called Saahin to his room and said, Try these on for size Saah. I think they’ll fit you now. In his hand, being held out to his gaping son, was his old pair of shoes. Saah could hardly contain his excitement- the honour of being invited to wear his father’s shoes almost overwhelmed him. He plonked himself on the floor and pulled on a shoe, not bothering to undo the laces.

Hey not like that laughed Papa, you’ll wreck them before we even get out the door. They lasted me for years and it’s likely gonna be years before you get another pair. He knelt and helped Saah with the other shoe, adjusting the laces to ensure as comfortable a fit as was possible with shoes that were well worn and still a size too big. Saah was delighted. He knew that because the shoes were still a little large he was sure of having them to wear on special occasions for many years to come. He could hardly wait to get to church to show off the honour he had just received.

Papa, now I’ll be like the big boys. Lots of them are wearing their papa’s shoes and now I can too. Thank you. I’ll always be very careful with them I promise.

Papa smiled knowingly. Well…we’ll see.

Secondary school was in many ways a challenge for Saah. He was streamed into the Arts section with the focus being on English language, literature, history and religious education. This pleased him, he preferred Arts to the other alternatives of Science or Commerce.

He was maturing but younger than many of the other boys. While he was still very much engrossed in sport, particularly soccer, the older boys were more interested in girls, which mystified Saah when he bothered to think about it. One boy in particular was a constant irritation to Saah, mocking, teasing and at times becoming belligerent. His name was Josef Turay. He was older than Saah, tall, powerfully built and with a reputation for fighting that earned him the respect of his peers if not his teachers. Saah learned to take care not to be going through a door way when Josef was nearby. That was after Josef once pinned him against the door and landed a few sly punches no one else could see. Saah asked him once what the problem was and received a confusing answer about Josef liking one particular girl who said she liked Saah best because he was so good at sport. Saah did not even know which girl Josef was talking about and said so. Josef called him a liar.

One day the looming conflict exploded into open battle. Both Saah and Josef had endured a particularly trying morning, hot, stuffy and their teacher impatient and cross. As they lounged out of the classroom for their break Josef shoved Saah roughly and Saah had had enough. He whirled to face his enemy, thrashing furiously into Josef’s solid trunk with his fists, kicking at his shins, head butting, careless of the growing crowd and ignoring the shouts of the teacher. Josef was smiling gleefully which further infuriated Saah.

Together they tumbled into the playground punching and kicking with Saah shouting and swearing and Josef laughing.

C’mon. c’mon, show me what you can do. Is that all you’ve got?

They continued to fight until they were physically forced apart by their teachers. Saah was secretly glad they were stopped-he was getting tired and knew he was up against a far better fighter than he was.

They were both ordered to stand at the front of the classroom before the assembled class. They were lectured on the evils of violence then both required to explain to the whole class why they had resorted to fighting.

Neither of them wanted to answer. Eventually Saah cobbled together a garbled explanation which contained a little of the truth but was for the most part, a feeble attempt to mollify the teacher and be allowed back to his seat. Josef followed his lead. The stories gelled well enough to satisfy the teacher so the incident was declared closed with a warning that any further fighting would attract severe consequences.

They spent the rest of their school lives avoiding each other.

That afternoon the long walk home was wearying and painful. Saah was bruised on both legs, his chest hurt from the pummelling and his head had been cut open. Although the blood was staunched it was a nasty cut above his eye, starting to swell, impossible to conceal. He wondered what he would say to Papa and Mama. He knew he could not tell them the truth. The truth would cause complications. What they didn’t know they