This is a journey through the reality of Sierra Leone, a country in which the Augustinian Recollects have left their mark. The author, with his soul in pain but in love with Sierra Leone after a year in the country, tells us the story sometimes in the first person, other times from the point of view of the objective observer, with traces of humor and dreams for the future of this country.
It lasted for ten years and now another ten have passed since it finished. But it has not been forgotten by those who saw its images and in the bodies of those who suffered in the first person. Even today many believe that travelling to Sierra Leone could be dangerous for its violence, but they are wrong. In Rio de Janeiro a life could have the price of a mobile phone, but here no one would risk their life for a thousand leoens note (twenty cents of a euro).
Arms were dispelled from the country, up to the point that not even police carry them. One of the UN programmes included their total prohibition with an additional clause: they would hand over a lot of money for every one handed in and with the guarantee that no one would ask any questions. You leave the gun, they put money in your hand and you leave. In a country of such misery there is not one left in the houses.
But the war continues to be present, not now in the form of violence, rather in economic collapse. The country lost everything: it was a bloodletting of prime material badly sold for the buying of arms and the payment of mercenaries. They destroyed all the communication and transportation networks; the companies and foreign investment fled and do not return; those who had money and preparation disappeared and left the country without professionals who continue in England and the United States; schools, hospitals and electric networks all that was productive fell.
Neither international help nor the NGOS have achieved that ten years later things are as they were (this is the only country of course that I know where the NGO vehicles have number plates different from the rest).
Also, the humanitarian catastrophes that have appeared in the last five years (tidal waves, hurricanes, floods, droughts, earthquakes and wars never officially started nor officially terminated) have meant lots of work. Were it not for the violence the world would have, it cannot be denied, looked at other places that need more help at the moment.
Socially, what has happened at first sight a miracle, but I don’t at what level it is entirely positive. I will explain: there has been an authentic reconciliation national and the rebels of yesterday that raped your daughters before slaughtering them or cutting their arms off are now your neighbours. Everyone knows, but everyone keeps quiet.
No-one wants to know anything about violence; they have been tired out, and with reason. The war happened and has ended. One of the painters of the work team in the mission had been a rebel chief in Binkolo, close to Kamabai, and had persecuted the missionaries with the intention of kidnapping them. Ten years later it didn’t stop him having work; he lost the job for robbing the house whilst he painted it.
The problem is that, along with this type of universal pardon has come an undesirable companion: impunity. Robbing (in truth, always without violence and never in front of you), lying, swindling, being corrupt, managing power for your own benefit, abusing your wife and children, nothing has any consequences. Absolutely nothing. According to the most extended version, “you have to forgive and forget”. Therefore, there is a sense of piracy, and as a result, continuous mistrust towards everyone.
I don’t know if this impunity existed before the war. The issue is that at present it profoundly wounds the weakest, the exploited, the cheated, the enslaved, those without a voice. This same impunity imposed in the post-war started from zero without vengeance (attention, also without justice) and has passed onto the social life, economic relations, and family life. I believe this is far from being positive.
NEXT PAGE: 9. Traditions which enslave
