Seidu Swaray and I are the same age. But in February 2002, when I was enjoying life, his town was attacked by LURD* rebels.
I met him in Liberia last year and he introduced himself as Swaray.
His mother gave birth to 12 children and 4 survived. He was the first in his family to finish high school. His parents were shocked to hear he had passed the University of Liberia entrance examination and wished to enroll.
Not one to be discouraged by a lack of resources, he registered on his own in 1998.
He was sleeping when one of his students pounded on the door of his home to warn of the approaching rebels. Everyone in the city grabbed their flashlights to pack their belongings and flee to Monrovia, the capital city.
En route, many people, including Swaray, were tortured by men who wanted to force confessions of being rebel collaborators. They stole his money and watch, but when they searched the bag holding his educational credentials, said they found nothing of value.
A day later, bullets rained down on them, and they desperately trudged through a swamp, directly toward a mushroom cloud from a rocket that had landed in the very mud that was their only way ahead.
He and his fiancée, Musu, were escaping together. She wore a yellow t-shirt that day. Her shirt was his beacon, even as a feeling of numbness overcame his whole being.
He plodded forward, relieved to find the bag of their belongings that had been dropped in the chaos. He struggled to release himself from the mud, weighed down by the mattress he carried on his head. He threw the bag forward and Musu dragged it to drier ground.
Swaray ran back to grab his educational credentials. A bullet whizzed by his ear.
Musu was reluctant to escape to neighboring Sierra Leone without her mother’s permission, so they separated. After four days of walking, Swaray crossed the border.
It was in a refugee camp that he encountered The Center for Victims of Torture, where he received trauma counselling. A few months later, he was trained and hired as a psychosocial agent in order to help his fellow traumatized refugees.
Three years later, he returned to Monrovia and two years ago he completed his bachelor’s degree in business administration and management. Today, he is the executive director of the Liberian Association for Psychosocial Services and I am proud to call him my colleague.
June 26 is the United Nations International Day in Support of Victims of Torture. This year, I think of Swaray. He’s a quiet man, a modest man with a genuine smile. And he is a man who demonstrates what is possible. Swaray has become the yellow t-shirt for others, a beacon that guides them forward through the mud.
* Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy, a rebel group in Liberia.
Kristi Rendahl
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Very inspiring story, Kristi.
Thanks for sharing.
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Shows that human suffering and the will to survive and overcome what life has dealt you knows no nationality.
It’s good to hear these stories and get shaken out of our American comfort zone from time to time.
Our ‘problems’ pale in comparison with what individuals like Seidu Swaray faced, overcame, and achieved – despite the incredible odds.
Did he re-connect with Musu?