I waited to recuperate a little while living at Kissy Lowcost [Editor’s note: A complex for low-income residents of Sierra Leone that is more encampment than public housing, and is often referred to as if a separate community], but time was running out. I had to move fast while the little money I had lasted.
I moved one evening with my daughter’s tiny bag. I did not have much to carry because I had only the shorts and sandals I wore during my operation. The shorts belonged to Florence Suluku, a childhood lover who had dated my best friend. She knew my story and was very kind to me.
I left the place at Lowcost and tried to see my cousin, who had become a very prominent radio manager with Citizen Radio, which broadcast a much-listened-to program named “Monologue.”
My cousin was revered as the program manager at the station and in the town. Seeing me was not a priority for him; he had his own agenda and never thought I was suffering for anything. We talked about how we hunted rats and recalled how he was nearly killed by a snake when he dug in for rats.
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