Sierra
Leone was a sad place during my teenage years, but it was my home. For
much of my life, my small West African country was torn by a civil war.
The war affected everything. My family
and I were constantly on the run, trying to escape the rebel soldiers.
It was terrifying every time the rebels came through a city. Someone
would see their torches approaching in the night, warn the others, and
we would all run for the bush, grabbing whatever we could along the way.
About
seven years after the war began, the rebels came to our city. My whole
family was running to escape, but my parents, who were just a few steps
behind me, were shot and killed. I was so sad to lose them, but I had to
keep moving.
My
brother, sister, and I moved to a safer place, and for a short while we
were all right, but the rebels eventually hit that town, too. This time
we didn’t have time to run away. My brother was taken and later killed.
My sister and I were lined up outside with all the other women. The
rebel soldiers were chopping limbs off of all the women in the line. We
were all so frightened. Everyone was crying and praying—even people who
had never believed in God before. I was not a member of the Church at
the time, but I believed in God and prayed that His will would be done
and hoped that He would find a way to save me.
My
dear sister, who was several places ahead of me in line, had both of her
legs cut off. But as the rebels reached the woman in front of me, our
army came rushing in and the rebels ran away. I know that I was not
better than the people who were in front of me or behind me, but I
thanked God that I had been spared and prayed that I might understand
His plan for me.
I
moved to another village to live with a friend. As I was telling my
story to my friend and some of her neighbors, one neighbor said,
“Mariama, we don’t have anything to offer you except an invitation to
church tomorrow. That’s where we find safety. That’s where we find
hope.” I loved God already and needed comfort in my life, so I decided
to go.
My
first Sunday in that LDS branch is a day I will never forget. I learned
of hope. You could just see that there was hope in those people, and I
was drawn to them. I was given the Book of Mormon
and started reading right away. I remember hearing in church about how
families could be together again after death and then reading in Alma 11 where Alma teaches about how our bodies will be made perfect again in the Resurrection.
I felt the Spirit so strong as I thought of my family. I knew that the
Church was true and that we could be together forever—each of us well
and whole.
There
were no missionaries in Sierra Leone at that time, so I took the
lessons from my branch president and was baptized soon after. We were
blessed in our town, because the Church sent food and humanitarian kits
for the members of the Church and others. The food kept us all alive.
Everyone was so grateful even to receive a small bag of rice or beans. I
received a blanket and a hygiene kit that included a toothbrush,
toothpaste, shampoo, soap, a comb, and a washcloth.
Not
long after, the rebels hit again. They burned down the house I was
living in, and as I was running to escape the flames, I took time to
save only two things—my scriptures and my hygiene kit. We had to live on
the run for a while after that, and I used my hygiene kit to help those
around me. I would squeeze out one pinch of toothpaste for each person,
or we would go to the river and carefully pass my bar of soap from
person to person. The kit was so precious to us. The blanket, too, was
invaluable. It sheltered us for many days until I used it to wrap an old
woman who had died and had nothing to be buried in.
Eventually,
I went back to my town and my branch. It was then that I decided I
wanted to serve a mission. This was a difficult decision for me, because
I had nothing and would be leaving behind people I loved. As I was
trying to decide, I read D&C 84:81 and 88,
which say, “Therefore, take ye no thought for the morrow, for what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or wherewithal ye shall be clothed …
for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your
left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round
about you, to bear you up.” I knew the Lord would care for me, so I
turned in my mission papers and was called to the Utah Salt Lake City
Temple Square Mission.
I
arrived in Utah with practically nothing, but I insisted on bringing my
hygiene kit, because it meant so much to me. One day, my companion and I
were taking a tour of the Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake, and I
recognized a blanket that had the Relief Society logo embroidered on it,
just like the one I’d had in Sierra Leone. I looked around and saw
hygiene kits like mine and familiar bags of beans and rice, and I began
cry.
“This
is where they came from!” I thought to myself. Tears streamed down my
cheeks as I remembered what these things sitting in stacks in the
Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake meant to my friends and to me in Sierra
Leone. I was so grateful to the Lord for preserving me, for bringing
the gospel into my life, and for allowing me to serve a mission. I knew
that His angels truly had been round about me, to bear me up.
When I received my humanitarian kit, my stepsister
received a school kit. She was the only child in her school who had
paper. Carefully, she tore out one piece for each of her friends and
broke her three pencils in half, giving one half to each friend. Every
day, the children would write down their lessons and then gently erase
everything each night so that they could use the sheet of paper again
the next day. They were so grateful for the tools to learn.
No comments:
Post a Comment