Ishmael Beah - A Long Way Gone

“Bu-wah. Bi ga huin ye na.” He still didn’t respond. I took my clothes off and dived into the river. When I rose to the surface, all of them had stopped swimming but remained in the water. The man, who must have been the father, asked me, “Where are you from and where are you going?” He was Mende and he understood Krio very well.

“I am from Mattru Jong and I have no idea where I am going.” I wiped the water off my face and then continued, “Where are you and your family headed?” He ignored my question by pretending he didn’t hear me. I proceeded to ask him if he knew the fastest way to Bonthe, an island in the south of Sierra Leone and one of the safest places at that time, according to hearsay. He told me that if I kept walking toward the sea, I would eventually find people who might have a better understanding about how to get to Bonthe. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he didn’t want me around and didn’t trust me. I looked at the curious and skeptical faces of the children and the woman. I was glad to see other faces and at the same time disappointed that the war had destroyed the enjoyment of the very experience of meeting people. Even a twelve-year-old couldn’t be trusted anymore. I got out of the water, thanked the man, and was on my way, heading in the direction he had pointed that led toward the sea.

Sadly, I do not know the names of most of the villages that sheltered and provided me food during those times. No one was there to ask, and in those parts of the country there weren’t any signs that said the name of this or that village.

I WALKEDfor two days straight without sleeping. I stopped only at streams to drink water. I felt as if somebody was after me. Often, my shadow would scare me and cause me to run for miles. Everything felt awkwardly brutal. Even the air seemed to want to attack me and break my neck. I knew I was hungry, but I didn’t have the appetite to eat or the strength to find food. I had passed through burnt villages where dead bodies of men, women, and children of all ages were scattered like leaves on the ground after a storm. Their eyes still showed fear, as if death hadn’t freed them from the madness that continued to unfold. I had seen heads cut off by machetes, smashed by cement bricks, and rivers filled with so much blood that the water had ceased flowing. Each time my mind replayed these scenes, I increased my pace. Sometimes I closed my eyes hard to avoid thinking, but the eye of my mind refused to be closed and continued to plague me with images. My body twitched with fear, and I became dizzy. I could see the leaves on the trees swaying, but I couldn’t feel the wind.

On the third day, I found myself in the middle of a thick forest, standing beneath huge trees whose leaves and branches made it difficult to see the sky. I didn’t remember how I had gotten there. Night was approaching, so I found a suitable tree that wasn’t too high to climb; it had weaved branches with another to form something like a hammock. I spent the night in the arms of those trees, between earth and sky.

The next morning I was determined to find my way out of the forest, even though my back ached painfully from sleeping in the trees. On my way, I came to a spring that ran from under a gigantic rock. I sat by it to rest, and there I had eye contact with a huge dark snake that retreated behind the bush. I found a long strong stick to protect myself as I sat playing with leaves on the ground to avoid bringing up thoughts that occupied my mind. But my mind continued to torment me, and every effort to clear away the terrible thoughts was in vain. So I decided to walk, tapping the ground with the stick I held. I walked all morning and into the evening, but in the end found myself at the same place where I had slept the previous night. That was when I finally came to accept that I was lost and it was going to take a while to get out of where I was. I decided to make my new home a little bit more comfortable by adding leaves to the weaved branches to make them less hard to sleep on.

I walked around to familiarize myself with my vicinity. As I was getting acquainted with my new home, I cleared the dried leaves. Then I took a stick and drew lines on the ground from my sleeping place to the spring where I had met my new neighbor, the snake. There was another one drinking water and it became motionless upon seeing me. As I went about my business, I heard it crawling away. I drew lines by parting the dried leaves on the ground. These lines helped me from getting lost in between the spring and my sleeping place. After I finished familiarizing myself with the area, I sat down and tried to think about how I was going to get out of the forest. But that didn’t go well, since I was afraid of thinking. I eventually decided that maybe it was better to be where I was. Even though I was lost and lonely, it was safe for the time being.

Along the spring there were several trees with a ripe fruit that I had never seen. Birds came to eat this strange fruit every morning. I decided to try some of it, since it was the only edible thing around. It was either take the chance and eat this fruit that might poison me or die of hunger. I decided to eat the fruit. I thought if the birds ate it and lived, maybe I could, too. The fruit was shaped like a lemon, with an outer layer of mixed colors of yellow and red. Inside was a crusty, watery, fruity part with a very tiny seed. It smelled like a mixture of ripe mango, orange, and something else that was irresistibly inviting. Hesitantly, I plucked one and took a bite. It didn’t taste as good as it smelled, but it was satisfying. I must have had about twelve of them. Afterward, I drank some water and sat waiting for the result.

I thought about when Junior and I had visited Kabati and would take walks with our grandfather on paths around the coffee farms by the village. He would point out medicinal leaves and trees whose barks were important medicines. During each visit, Grandfather always gave us a special medicine that was supposed to enhance the brain’s capacity to absorb and retain knowledge. He made this medicine by writing a special Arabic prayer on a waleh (slate) with ink that was made of another medicine. The writing was then washed off the slate, and that water, which they called Nessie , was put in a bottle. We took it with us and were supposed to keep it a secret and drink it before we studied for exams. This medicine worked. During my primary-school years and part of my secondary-school years, I was able to permanently retain everything that I learned. Sometimes it worked so well that during examinations I could visualize my notes and all that was written on each page of my textbooks. It was as if the books had been imprinted inside my head. This wonder was one of many in my childhood. To this day, I have an excellent photographic memory that enables me to remember details of the day-to-day moments of my life, indelibly.

I looked around the forest for one of the medicinal leaves that Grandfather had said remove poison from the body. I might need it if the fruit I had eaten was poisonous. But I couldn’t find the plant.

Nothing happened after a couple of hours, so I decided to take a bath. I hadn’t had time to take one for a while. My clothes were dirty, my crapes were rotten, and my body was sticky with dirt. When I first threw water on my skin, it became slimy. There was no soap, but in the forest there was an area that had a particular kind of grass that could be used as a substitute. I had learned about this grass during one of the summers when I visited my grandmother. When I squeezed a bunch of the grasses together, they provided foam that left my body with a fresh scent. After I had finished taking a bath, I washed my clothes or, rather, soaked and spread them on the grass to dry. I sat naked, cleaning my teeth with sapwood. A deer came by and watched me suspiciously before it went about its affairs. I resisted thinking by listening to the sound of the forest as songs of birds collided with the shouting of monkeys and the cackle of baboons.