My name is Mariatu, and this is my story. I was browsing in Chapters and came across this book. It really wasn’t what I thought I wanted to read, but as I skimmed through the pages I felt a connection. It turned out to be a beautifully written and telling story with as much joy as horror and sadness coming through the pages.
The people of Mariatu’s story touched my heart right off, and at times I wanted for their life of simplicity - eating free run chickens and self-farmed vegetables, rice, and hot peppers, picking fruit right off trees, and dancing and celebrating at night under the stars and moon.
Mariatu grew up as a happy child in a village in Sierra Leone. She made a wish to go to school like the other children from wealthier villages. After a nightmare about palm oil, Mariatu was confronted by her worst fears when rebels invaded her village. After the attack, and after having her hands cut off by children close to her own age, Mariatu began a journey of survival through the forest, where she met black cobras and other animal spirits, helpful and loving people, and eventually ended up in Canada.
Mariatu’s journey came across as spiritual to me. I was very moved at the end when she had a conversation with her grandmother who’d warned her that to dream of palm oil will lead to blood spilling. Her grandmother said:
Mariatu, many things have changed because of the war. And witchcraft can’t change the past. I wish a spell could have stopped the attack on you. But you have turned your hurt and pain into something positive. When those demons reappear, think about all the angels who have come into your life since then.
Even though this is a small book, it’s full of information, heart and soul, and it’s worth every word. It made me believe that it does not matter where we’ve been, or are, but rather where we want to go that matters most. And that’s moving towards our heart’s desires and trusting our chosen path.
