Ishmael Beah - A Long Way Gone

By evening, my clothes were still damp, so I put them on so that the heat of my body would dry them faster before night fell. I was still alive, despite eating the nameless fruit, so I ate some more for dinner. The following morning, I ate some more for breakfast and later for lunch and dinner again. The nameless fruit became my only source of food. The fruit was plentiful, but I knew that sooner or later there would be no more. Sometimes I felt as if the birds gave me angry looks for eating so much of their food.

The most difficult part of being in the forest was the loneliness. It became unbearable each day. One thing about being lonesome is that you think too much, especially when there isn’t much else you can do. I didn’t like this and I tried to stop myself from thinking, but nothing seemed to work. I decided to just ignore every thought that came to my head, because it brought too much sadness. Apart from eating and drinking water and once every other day taking a bath, I spent most of my time fighting myself mentally in order to avoid thinking about what I had seen or wondering where my life was going, where my family and friends were. The more I resisted thinking, the longer the days became, and I felt as if my head was becoming heavier each passing day. I became restless and was afraid to sleep for fear that my suppressed thoughts would appear in my dreams.

As I searched the forest for more food and to find a way out, I feared coming in contact with wild animals like leopards, lions, and wild pigs. So I stayed closer to trees that I could easily mount to hide myself from these animals. I walked as fast as I could, but the more I walked, the more it seemed I was getting deeper into the thickness of the forest. The harder I tried to get out, the bigger and taller the trees became. This was a problem, because it got difficult to find a tree that was easy to climb and had suitable branches to sleep in.

One evening, as I searched for a tree with a forked branch to sleep in, I heard grunts. I wasn’t exactly sure what animals were producing such noisy grunts, but they became louder. I climbed a tree to be safe. As I sat there, a herd of wild pigs came running. It was the first time I had seen wild pigs and they were huge, all of them. If they stood up, they would all be taller than me. Each had forked teeth extending out of its mouth. As they passed underneath me, one of the biggest pigs stopped and sniffed the air in all directions. It must have sensed my presence. When they were gone, I climbed down, and all of a sudden a couple of enormous pigs came running at me. They chased me for about half a mile as I looked for a tree to climb. Fortunately, I found one that I was able to mount in one jump. The pigs stopped and started charging at the bottom of the tree. They grunted loudly and the rest of the herd came back. They all started charging at the tree and tried to chew the bottom. I climbed higher and higher. After a while they finally gave up as a cricket started calling for night to commence.

My grandmother once told me a story about a notorious hunter of wild pigs who used magic to transform himself into a wild boar. He would then lead the herd into an open area of the forest where he would change back into human form, then trap and shoot the pigs. One day during his trickery, a small pig saw the hunter biting a plant that enabled him to return to his human form. The pig told all its companions what it had seen. The herd searched the forest for the hunter’s magic plant and destroyed every single one of them. The next day the hunter performed his trickery and lured the herd into an opening. But he couldn’t find the plant to become human again. The pigs tore him to pieces. Since that day, the wild pigs have distrusted all humans, and whenever they see a person in the forest, they think he or she is there to avenge the hunter.

After the pigs had gone and I had surveyed the terrain to my satisfaction, I climbed down and continued walking. I wanted to be away from that area before dawn, since I feared that if I stayed I might run into the wild pigs again. I walked all night and continued during the day. At the beginning of night, I saw owls coming from their hiding places, revolving their eyes, and stretching to become familiar with their surroundings and get ready for the night. I was walking very fast but very quietly, until I accidentally stepped on the tail of a snake. It started hissing and scuttling toward me. I ran as fast as I could for a long time. When I was six, my grandfather had inserted a medicine into my skin that protected me from snakebite and enabled me to control snakes. But as soon as I started school, I began to doubt the power of the medicine. After that, I was no longer able to make snakes stop in their tracks until I went by.

When I was very little, my father used to say, “If you are alive, there is hope for a better day and something good to happen. If there is nothing good left in the destiny of a person, he or she will die.” I thought about these words during my journey, and they kept me moving even when I didn’t know where I was going. Those words became the vehicle that drove my spirit forward and made it stay alive.

I had spent more than a month in the forest when I finally ran into people again. The only living things I had met were monkeys, snakes, wild pigs, and deer, none of which I could have a conversation with. Sometimes I watched the little monkeys practice jumping from tree to tree or watched the curious eyes of a deer that sensed my presence. The sounds of branches snapping off trees became my music. There were certain days when the sounds of the branches breaking made a consistent rhythm that I would enjoy very much, and the sonority of it would echo for a while and would gradually fade into the depths of the forest.

I was walking slowly, staggering from hunger, back pain, and fatigue, when I ran into some young people my age at an intersection where two paths merged into one. I was wearing a pair of trousers I had recently found hanging on a pole in an abandoned village. They were extremely big for me, so I had tied them with ropes so they wouldn’t fall off while I walked. We all arrived at the junction at the same time, and upon seeing each other, we became paralyzed with fear. As I stood there, unable to run, I recognized a few of the faces and I smiled to break the tension and uncertainty. There were six boys, and three of them, Alhaji, Musa, and Kanei, had attended Centennial Secondary School with me in Mattru Jong. They weren’t close friends, but the four of us had been flogged once for talking back to the senior prefect. We had nodded at one another after that punishment, which we all agreed was unnecessary. I shook hands with the boys.

I could tell who was from what tribe by the marks on their cheeks and their features. Alhaji and Saidu were Temne, and Kanei, Jumah, Musa, and Moriba were Mende. They told me they were heading for a village called Yele in Bonthe district that they had heard was safe because it was occupied by the Sierra Leone Armed Forces.

Quietly I followed them as I tried to remember all their names, especially the names of the faces I recognized among them. I walked in the back, creating a little distance between us. I began to realize how uncomfortable I felt being around people. Kanei, who was older, perhaps sixteen, asked me where I’d been. I smiled without answering. He tapped me on the shoulder as if he knew what I had experienced. “Circumstances will change and things will be fine, just hold on a little more,” he said, tapping my shoulder again and nodding. I responded with a smile.

Once again I was with a group of boys. This time there were seven of us. I knew this was going to be a problem, but I didn’t want to be by myself anymore. Our innocence had been replaced by fear and we had become monsters. There was nothing we could do about it. Sometimes we ran after people shouting that we were not what they thought, but this made them more scared. We hoped to ask people for directions. It was impossible.