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Biography of Ibrahim Daramy nee Tholly
Family
History: I was born in a polygamous family
with my father having four wives with eighteen children plus several
children of my father’s brothers and sisters, including other children
of his extended family. I grew up sharing with over 25 other children;
my home was like a community with some children speaking different
languages. My father was initially thought to be rich in the Sierra
Leonean standard, he was a local diamond miner and dealer until the
inception of the war when he lost all his properties including houses,
fleet of cars, money and precious diamond when the war broke out in the
area where he was doing business at Zimmy, a town bordering Sierra Leone
and Liberia. While he was trying to brace up the loss in another area
close to his home village, another attack from the marauding rebels of
the United Revolutionary Front (RUF) blew another devastating loss in
his business again. His only place of safety for his life and children
was to come to the city, Freetown where he had earlier secured
properties. The safety of Freetown was soon undermined by another attack
from the rebels again, we sought refuge at the National Stadium where
the whole family was protected by the West African Economic Monitoring
Group known as ECOMOG. One day my father went to find food for the
family to our already burnt home and did not return to us, we stranded
in the stadium with my mother trying to keep the family together but the
news of our father’s death in the hands of the rebels broke my mom’s
zeal and panic encompassed the family. One of my cousins, Abubakarr who
was raised up by my dad involved in a coup that chased the former
president from the country for almost two years in 1997 though executed
by the reinstated government, my dad’s name never blotted out from the
government bad book especially from the ruling government militia group,
the Kamajors. Our family name became target for complete annihilation.
My
Earliest Memories:
I was born in Bo, the second capital city of Sierra Leone in 1984, and I
started school at a very early age but because of the war my family was
always on the run so my earlier memories are full of many uncompleted
memories. I lived in fear of been killed or conscripted into the child
soldiers fighting group. My education was always interrupted b y this
helter-skelter syndrome and my high school classes were always cut short
so I did not have the chance to complete my high school education as a
normal high school child. In January1999, the RUF rebel attacked the
city and with all the confusion that ensured thereafter, we escaped with
my sisters and brothers to the Gambia.
Refugee Memories: We arrived in the Gambia with nowhere to go,
not even relatives to stay with, a kind passerby saw our predicament and
told us about our embassy in the city. We were led to the embassy with
disguised identities because we feared people will discover us and send
us back to Sierra Leone. However, the embassy official connected us with
the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) and we had help.
We were sent to the refugee camp which was situated about 480km from the
capital city of Banjul near a town called Basse, the second city of the
country. We were further taken to the refugee camp itself which was
actually in a place I called “no-where” because it was located to a
place 12km from any other town with no electricity and no cooling system
with a constant temperature about 101degrees hot. Everything about
Kundam Camp was a natural nothingness, water was short in supply, food,
medication and schools where situated 12km away from the camp, we
traveled about the same distance on foot to buy basic amenities like
sugar, salt and even bread, life was a menace. UNHCR supplies come once
every three to six months if any, and were very irregular, they are
expected every two months but they actually come every six months and
sometimes even longer. To make ends meet, we resorted to wood cutting
and demanded for manual axes from the UNHCR which were made available
and the forest became our mining fields but unscrupulous police officers
and natives will come to the camp with trucks and seized all our wood
until one day we revolted an had a big showdown with the authorities to
let us be. Transportation to the town was very difficulty especially
carrying a bunch of wood so we requested a donkey and a cart which is
the most popular form of transportation in modern-day Gambia.
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There were about 11houses hosting over 300 refugees, there was an
average of 4-5 persons in a 14x15 sq.ft room, boys and girls were
sometimes hosted in the same room. On arrival at the camp on the first
day, you are given a brief verbal summary of regulations to adhere or
you will face a fine or forfeit a portion of future supplies. The camp
committee was very autocratic and dictative, one of their weapons of
discipline was not only limited to forfeiting a portion of your supplies
but some crimes are punishable by public thrashing. Thieving and abusive
language can result to public flogging or even expulsion from the camp.
Memories of the camp are not pleasant, the camp meant deprivation,
hunger, humiliation, degradation, misplacement and displacement.
Thinking of insect bites, reptile sting like scorpions and sharing a
patio with wild bush animals is no joy to remember. Counting how many
days you sleep without food which was the normalcy in the camp is not
pleasant. I still have bleeding marks of the war and the camp deep in my
heart, the younger brother I lost in the camp, the quality of life at
home, the education deprived, and the childhood I did not have, make my
effort to succeed a continuous desire.
Life
in the U.S:
In 2001 I arrived in the United States under the hospices of the United
Nation Refugee resettlement Program in collaboration with United States
Refugee Program. Our family, I and my siblings were resettled in Utica,
New York where I was enrolled in school again but I have to work full
time in order to my mother and brother I left behind in the camp. News
of my father came that he was not actually killed but was captured and
taken to the forest with the rebels where he escaped and went hiding
till the end of the war in 2000 when he came out. Although the news of
my father’s discovery made me happy, news about his situation and the
family saddened my heart tremendously, he had lost everything to either
the war or to his relatives, and he is struggling to survive with us
being his only source of hope which means we have to work harder to keep
him and the family in Africa. I left school when heard the news of
younger brother’s sickness and took a second job in order to raise money
to meet the medical bills of my brother’s treatment but unfortunately we
lost him. We moved to Orland Florida when our mother arrived in search
of better life and later moved to Philadelphia where my mother had
earlier discovered his elder brother. I started exercising while in
Florida but the job I had was very challenging and could not invest
enough time to my dream till when I arrived in Philadelphia and I am
still struggling to make my membership payment and meeting my school
needs and family demands in Africa. My only strength is my desire and
determination to change the history of my story.
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DARAMY
Ibrahim 
