dear Moses

Dear Moses,
I’m happy that you feel a bit better now, after Tuesday when again you were very disappointed in people around you, who you wanted to train for a job, or give opportunities to do better what they do.
I heard you, last Tuesday. First excited, angry, convinced of the wrongdoing to you.
Then later; broken down, frustrated, sad and lonely.

I remember long ago already, also before Christmas. We lived in Casavafarm, You went to the market in the evening, it was dark, and you returned. Four people grabbed my golden necklace from your neck where it was after I gave it to you.
We went to the station together. A lot of shouting, one policewoman keeping order without fear. We gave a statement. You were accused of having used a knife, which was very untrue. We went back home on the bike. And never heard of it again by the way.
There at home, lying on the bed, your energy broke down. ‘What did I do wrong?’, you asked me with a very sad voice. My heart broke. ‘You didn’t do wrong. You’re too big for them; you keep your principles’.
We went asleep with our hands tight together, the first and last time in our history. And I swore that I would always be behind you.

Now I’m not with you. The ebola and the effects on daily life in Sierra Leone made me decide that it was better to stay in Holland; here I can work to support you and the ones around you.
At the end of last year I got an opportunity to get my own house, and thinking of a very unsecure future in Sierra Leone, for both of us, I decided to take it and remigrate to Holland. Maybe our chances would be better here.
Although I was happy the first days, later I cursed the way that thinks were going; rationally well but emotionally wrong!, I should be with you.

I worked, and called you daily or you called me. Both trying to be positive, and yes, there are a lot of things to be grateful about: we are both still alive, have our daily food and a good roof over our heads and work. But while I am surrounded by good people that I would trust my life to, around you is jealousy, bullying and cheating.
Where Holland is safe and still mostly respectful, when driving the Toyota you are stopped by the police several times a day, forced to pay money for nothing like all the bus drivers, but for you the price is higher because you have a white woman.
Most people you help expect more the next time, and if they don’t get it they become enemies. You’re getting more lonely and this when your heart is so loving and concerned about your people with their difficult lives.
You told me that there are times that you can’t feel any joy in your heart.

Your visa for Schengen expired some months ago and without that there’s no way that you can come to me by legal ways.
I try to explain my staying away from you; I work to support the life there. But how can I expect you to understand that even when we are already married for over five years now, still you are not allowed to visit me unless we go to Ghana to try and get a new visa?
I don’t even understand it myself. I could support you when you are not allowed to work here, and if they would allow you to work you would do anything with pleasure because that is how you are.

You are not allowed to come, even when the previous times that you came you kept all the rules and we never needed the state to fund your visit. Can you believe that, while Syrian refugees come in, get food and housing and even have the right to re-unit here with their families?
There’s a war in their country, they say that’s why.

‘Every day here’s a war’ I hear you say. And I am scared.
But how and to whom can I explain that people with a little bit more than the average Sierra Leonean are an easy target without protection from anyone or anything? I think of last year, when you passed a bar and ended up in a quarrel between two men there. One used a broken bottle. Some people accused you, knowing your background and our marriage. You had to hide for your life, the police that smelled money came after you and only with the help of some good people around you, and a settlement of a thousand euro’s and the payment of two hospital-admittances, because after the first the ‘victim’ got very drunk and collapsed again and of course this was all your fault and he had to go to a hospital again the case could be closed.

I’m scared about what people can do in this fokked-up time before Christmas. I’m scared about your mental health. What is becoming of you, always on alert when you leave the house and too much alone? And this after being dropped somewhere by your mother, only four years old, later the civil war, then a period of happiness but now lonely, lonely and almost a prisoner for safety’s sake?

Thank God you answered the phone just now, although we both were confused and could not speak properly, sad as we were by how things are going and that we are not together.
At first I tried to explain you that even I might underestimate your difficulties and the threats around you. Then I wanted to give you hope, and give myself hope, but it was not convincing enough. Then, what rested, was a prayer, your voice dark with emotion; mine almost unhearable of the sadness and the incapability to offer a straight solution and the fear for your life.

Hold on Moses! I pray that the time that I can come to you is not too far anymore, and that your life will change because you are one of the best people I met in my life.
And you’re my husband.

One love,
Kiki