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Bite of the Mango, Bite of a Honey's Doughnut

Our lives in comparison to the life of Mariatu Kamara.

Kiera Nurmeste-Bourne

on 31 March 2011

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Transcript of Bite of the Mango, Bite of a Honey's Doughnut

The Bite of the Mango or the Bite of a Honey's Doughnut Our lives compared to the life of Mariatu Kamara in the novel "The Bite of the Mango" by Mariatu Kamara and Susan McClelland

Project by: Kiera Harnden, Stephanie Bourne, and Quinn Nurmeste "In Magborou, we kids played with stilts made from slabs of wood, tin cans, and rope." "There were eight houses in the village, made out
of clay, with wood and tin roofs. Several
families lived in each house." "Four people live in my gigantic house with five bathrooms. Some of the rooms are rarely used." "None of the kids in my village went to school." "Here, school is free, but everyone complains about going to learn." "Starting from the time I was about seven, and strong enough to carry plastic jugs of water or straw baskets full of corn on my head, I spent my mornings planting and harvesting food on our farm outside Magborou." "When I was seven, I remembered fun filled days of going to school with my friends, watching TV, and eating the food that my mom bought from the store." "I would soon learn too that kids like me, with no hands, made the best beggars of all... On a good day, we could make as much as 10 000 leones, or about three dollars, by pooling our money." "My first job was walking my neighbor's dog. I remember I could make about ten dollars each time, enough to buy a hot chocolate and a cupcake at Starbucks." Hospitals in Sierra Leone are overflowing; many people are turned away, and there often isn't enough medical supplies or even medicine. There are many hospitals available to go to in Vancouver. They have the lastest equipment: CT scanners and MRIs, and there is always enough room. Sometimes, if I have enough money, I'll take a poda poda (a taxi) to Freetown. However, I don't do this very often because the transportation is too expensive for me. I rarely take the bus because my family owns two cars. I don't want to have to walk for half an hour to get to school. Once a year, I get a new docket-and-lappa from my mother. I wear it for days on end, and after it is worn, I look forward to the new one that my mother will bring for me in seven months. Tomorrow, I'm going shopping with my friends. I'm hoping to get a new pair of jeans. The ones that I bought last month have a hole in the knee from where I fell when I was out at night. It's hard for me to leave the place that I was born. I have no official documents; I don't even know my own birthday. This Saturday, I'm flying away to Hawaii for a week. It'll be nice to see some sun, and afterwards I can make my friends jealous from my tan. It no longer seems strange to be living in the woods for a week or more to hide from the rebels. With the war getting worse, I barely see my village, or home, anymore. This is normal. War seems so far away from me, in Canada. I always feel safe. I strongly believe that I will never have to experience it. "As a little kid, I was dissapointed when I got my brother's bike instead of a brand new one." http://www.berezny.com/tim/Togo/images/journal/February/mudhuts.jpg http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1027/569828070_645f1e3720.jpg




















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