The Bite of the Mango

In a society where teenagers find a failed internet connection to be a major disaster, what would an audience of high school kids make of a 12 year old girl having her hands cut off by soldiers, and living to tell the tale?

This was a question on my mind at the the event titled The Bite of the Mango which featured Mariatu Kamara in conversation with CBC radio's Kathryn Gretsinger, about her memoir as told to journalist Susan McClelland.

Mariatu and Kathryn

It would be a devastating story to hear if the now 22 year old Mariatsu weren't so composed, easygoing and still a little bit shy. It's hard to fathom the charming young woman's path from a remote village in Sierra Leone to Toronto. She grew up in a tiny village with no electricity, beds or bathroom. But she was happy with her loving family, friends and “wonderful trees.” It was an agrarian life, and the routine was simple.  

“We'd go farm in the morning and go back and sleep at night and then go back in the morning,” she said. “I used to get beatings because I was lazy. I didn't like working in the hot sun. I don't know why I was born in Africa.” Kathryn Gretsinger: Well, you're in the right country now.

But that life was interrupted when rebel soldiers, which included children,  raided her village. She had friends who were burned alive, and she and three cousins had their hands cut off. This was a measure taken to keep people from voting. After hiding and passing out in the woods for a night, she met a man the next day who offered her a mango. When she took a bite, holding the mango with her bleeding arms she knew she had the will to live.

She ended up in a refugee camp on the outskirts of Freetown, where she joined a theatre group. She'd go into the city to beg during the day, and then come back at night to dance and perform with the company. When she first arrived, she was angry and bitter, but the theatre group started her on her path to healing. “We performed stories about AIDS and the war. It was fun.”

One of the things that strikes you about Mariatu is that she doesn't use prosthetics. She says she finds them uncomfortable, but you get a sense that there's also an act of defiance. “The only difference between hands and no hands is you do things differently. You make do with what you have. You have hands so you should use them well.”

Mariatu eventually came to Canada after a family in Toronto saw her story in the news. She arrived in Toronto in August, satisfied that she was amenable to this Canadian weather. People warned her it would get cold, though. She thought 'okay, I'll be ready.' After all, she knew what cold-er was,but  she was about to get a lesson in the difference between a relative concept and the absolute.

“The first time it snowed, and the first flakes started falling, I wondered why sugar and salt was falling.” And it just kept getting colder. She couldn't believe she had to wear jackets and boots.

But the biggest challenge wasn't the weather. It was school. By this time, she's 15 years old, and had never been. Seven short years ago, she started learning English, starting with her ABC's.

“High school was a hell thing. Trust me.” I was in school with 12 and 13 year olds. “it was embarrassing.” But she was quick to acknowledge, “The teachers made me who I am.”

In the question period she was asked what her goals were now. “My mission is to open peoples eyes and hearts and help protect women and children around the world. When I've done that, then I will think of myself as good.”

And when asked by a teacher what advice she had for kids in the audience who wanted to become a writer, she said  “I'm not really a writer,” and praised the work of Susan McClelland, who helped her write the book. There was a real charisma to her humility. As she chatted and signed books afterword, there were even a few awkward teenage boys who thanked her for inspiring them.

I hope they think of her the next time their internet connection is down.