"Lying in a hospital tent, surrounded by rows of dying people, I knew I would never forget the agonising groans that filled the air. They were all battling the horrific Ebola virus – and so was I.
When word of the disease trickled into our tiny village in the rural district of Kono, Sierra Leone, last May, we had no idea what an epidemic it would be. It hit my family that September. My lovely, vibrant aunt Mamusu suddenly became violently sick and her temperature rocketed. Within two days she was dead.
The speed of her death was shocking, but we had no time to grieve, as just a few days later her husband – my uncle, Alpha – had the same terrifying symptoms. Like Mamusu, he lasted no more than 48 hours.
As people started dying, even when they’d sought help in medical centres, panic set in around the village. I was petrified my one-year-old son Ibrahim would catch the disease and tried to keep him away from people. But less than a week later, my mum Alimamy, dad Robert and I were all struck down with a fever.
A medical team diagnosed us with Ebola but, as my symptoms appeared to be much more severe, they took me to hospital in Freetown 200 miles away, while my parents stayed at home. I was told to bring Ibrahim, as it was safer to have him with me. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to his dad.
Once there, I was put on to a camp bed in a tent operating as a makeshift hospital ward. As I fought the virus, a nurse told me both my parents had died. Tears streamed down my face as I held my little boy and prayed we could get through this together. But then Ibrahim fell ill. He was too weak to fight the disease and died in my arms a few days later. The grief was indescribable. I wanted to die too, so I could be with my baby, but somehow my strength started to return.
Within three weeks, I’d gone from death’s door to being able to stand unaided. I’d beaten the disease, but had no idea what the future held. Everyone I loved was gone, and I felt utterly lost. But on October 20, a social worker took me to the St George Interim Care Centre
in Freetown, which is funded by the small, UK-based St George Foundation charity. The centre helps children orphaned by Ebola, and, as I had been told I was at least temporarily immune to the disease, I was given a job looking after new arrivals. I began feeding and dressing them. Some days I’d just read to them or offer them comfort, as I knew what they’d gone through.
Sadly, not all the children I helped made it, but seeing so much suffering put my own into perspective. Of course, not a day goes by when I don’t grieve for my family and my baby, but my work leaves me little time to dwell on the past and gives me a focus for the future.
The nurses who treated me inspired me to try to become one myself. It costs a lot to train, but I’m paid a small amount by the charity and I hope someone might also sponsor me. I’m determined to help eradicate the virus, so no one else has to lose their parents or their child. Then we can all move forward together."
TheSunUK
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