Fabricated, Forged and Forgotten: The Moth Radio Hour

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“I'm your host, Jay Allison, producer of this Radio Show.”

In this hour, stories of identity fabricated, forged, and forgotten.

First up is Judy Sampere Alabero from our 2014 Moth community showcase.

The showcase features some of our favorite stories to hold through our community workshop. Those favorites include this story which revolves around the forged bus pass in London. Here's Judy's live from the Housing Works bookstore in New York City. Hola, me amo yo yo, deed. So yes, pañolah, y'am uchao and ra. Maybe you want me to talk to the beginning, right?

I don't know. Maybe you can understand me better. Alright, so before telling you my story, I need to tell you a little bit about my culture. I'm from Spain, so I'm gonna let you know how the Spaniards are. The Spaniards we love to get things for free. The more we can get, the better.

Just imagine you have a bowl of candies, and the Spaniards will get one for themselves, and one for the cousin, one for the father, for the father, the sister, the daughter, for all the whole family. If there is nobody in the room, they will take all the candy.

And they're all because you will look amazing in the living room.

Well, when I was 25, I was an artist student in London, and I was broke. As you can imagine, paying rent or paying for food, it was a struggle, and certainly was paying for transport. One day, I was waiting for my bus at the stop, and I was looking at my bus person thinking, "This will be so easy to falsify."

You know, like I'm an artist, I can't do things, so I was thinking, "Oh my god, I can't do this with my eyes closed." So I decided to give a try. And the first time I tried, it was, I was happy to scare, but you know it worked. It worked. So, like, after a couple of weeks, it just became a routine to start my week, clicking around the computer, hitting print, and yes, that, I was ready to go.

So, I don't know, after a couple of months, I was so easy that I didn't feel that I had any anymore fake bus bus. It was totally real for me. So another day, I was just going to downtown London for a party, and I was going in the bus, like, listening to my music, looking through the window, and I feel like somebody's tapping my shoulder. I turn around, and I see, I see an inspector asking for my bus bus.

“So, I just hand it to him, and as soon as I get into him, I remember that I gave him a bus bus that is fake.”

And I look at his face, and I can't notice that he knows it too. So, the next thing he does is taking his notebook, name, please. And we thought about thinking, I say, Antonio Gonzales, which obviously is not my real name, and Antonio Gonzales is kind of the most spontaneous name, the most common name that you can find. It would be like, "Here's Saint John Smith, something like that."

But I, you know, I thought, "Okay, he's going to put me a find. He's find that they give to everybody when they don't pay their tickets, like 20 pounds." And that's a shame because that would be a few less beers tonight. But what can I do? Just will pay it, that's it. So, the next stop he made me go down the bus, and there is a line of 10 policemen waiting. Two of them, they grab me

to the police station, really, my rights. When I write there, I manage to sneak my ID into my panties.

“Because I realize they think I'm Antonio Gonzales there, and I don't want they think I lie”

about my name. So, after that, they treat me, and they take everything I have in my pocket, they take my preaching, everything, I they couldn't find it. And they asked me as well, what I bought the bus bus, and I said, "I bought it on the street, I didn't know it, but even it was fake." So, I don't know, they didn't blame me too much, but they have to ask if I wanted a quarter-pointed lawyer, and I say, "Of course, you know, I need to defend my innocence." So, I have to wait for a couple of

hours, and if he came, and they brought me into a cell, they took off my shoes, they opened the door, and I see like a salmon bed with a blue mat, like this one that you can find on the gyms, a metal toilet, and in front of it, that camera. So, they cannot lose any detail, they can't know even if you are constipated there. In those two hours, I was thinking about my story, what I was going to say, like thinking about where I bought it exactly, from who I bought it,

but without trying to give too many details, I didn't want it to point to anybody in concrete, because I'm a good person, you know. So, my lawyer came, I tell him, "Oh, my story, and we end the bring us to an interrogatory room." With another police officer, with a police officer, and she started recording and made me all kind of questions. I started answering, but none of my answers seems to please her, and she started playing with the fact that my

English, that English is not my mother tongue. So, everything I was saying is just changing the meaning of everything. And after like 45 minutes, like going back and forth, back and forth, she just asked me if I want to translate her, and then my lawyer, again, like in the movies, look at her and say, "Can I talk to my client, please?" So, she, she's still recording, leaves the room, my lawyer turned to me and say, "Listen, this is how the scenes work in England."

“Like, the police here has a 90% of sold cases, and that's because you need to say,”

what they want to hear. So, when she come back, just say to her that you are still in, you don't have much money, you knew we was fake, and you know it's wrong what you did,

you regret and you're never going to do it again. At that point, I was so convinced of my story,

I'm my innocent, that I wasn't, I wasn't like, I didn't want it to do that, I was like, "Why do you have to say that?" But you know, I said, I saw, you know, I was like the whole night there, I was like five, six hours with them, and I was thinking, "Okay, maybe he's the lawyer, maybe I should follow his advice." And the police officer came back, and I say my speech, and after that, she doesn't make me any more questions, I'll say anything else. He's told the

record and leave the room, and when she come back, she said that they are going to release me. So, I say, "Great, I'm just feeling great. Everything is finished. They are going to release me as soon as they certify my identity." Yeah, Antonio and Thales. So, at that point, my whole work crumble. I was like, "I just start crying, I'm crying, and the lawyer and the police officer, they were handing me cleaners, they didn't know what was going on, I couldn't even

talk, keep crying, and they like men as to say to them that I lied about my name. And then the

“lawyer was looking at me, and he was kind of smiling, thinking, "I think he knew, I was such a”

young person, I didn't know what I was doing, but the police officer, the police officer thought that I was a terrorist." So, after that it took me like hours to make them believe which one it was my real identity, and demonstrate that I wasn't a criminal, because they thought that too.

During all that time, I never once pulled out my ID. Because, you know, I thought I thought it was,

it was going to be an insult to the police officer for three, three, maybe four. So, I think at the end, they just fell sorry for me, and they thought it was, you know, like having me the whole life like that. I think they thought it was in the punishment. So, they let me go without any fine, at the end, no fine, nothing. So, when I get out that six

how I'm going to get home now with all my bus bus. And, obviously, I learned my lesson.

“After these, I never in my life, even there, I will falsify another bus bus. But, you know, lately,”

I've been observing at the Mama Membership car, because $25 to get in, come on, I shall be free. Thank you. That would do deed, some pair of a barrel. To deed is from Vienna, a Mediterranean city in Spain. She moved to the US nine years ago, and currently teaches at California State University, and works as a virtual reality specialist and a illustrator, while continuing to develop her passion for art. She loves camping with her dog, too.

Judy told us that luckily, her bus pass forgery has only come back to haunt her one time. Last year, during her green card interview, this issue came out, and she had to request her

“criminal records from England. They let her go home without a warning, and it didn't affect the”

process of her permanent residency beyond an extra three months of paperwork and some anxiety. She told us, "Thankfully, youthful stupidity gets cured with time." Next up is Sean Gole, who told this story at our open-my-story slam series in New York where WNYC is a media partner from off. Here's Sean.

So, it's the first night of summer camp, and I'm trying really hard to bond with the other

guys in the dorm. When one of them goes, "Hey Sean, it tells about your first kiss," and I'm like, "This is my nightmare question for two reasons. One, I'm a huge dork." At this point in my life, at 16, I've only kissed like my PSAT book for good luck. And two, I am in the closet, so anything about intimacy in general makes me retreat into my body like a shy turtle. But luckily, I have prepared an answer for this very specific question, fake answer. So, I turned to him

and I go, "Ah, my first kiss was Sarah Brown. We met at Disney World, sparks flew. We had our first kiss

outside the Franspa Villian at Epcot. But unfortunately, you know, we lost touch and the guys are like, "Ah, very good. Yes." So, we're leaving the room and one of them goes, "Hey, did you really kiss Sarah Brown?" And I'm like, "Ah, there was a matter of fact. Yes, I did." And he goes, "Ah, that's so crazy because like, you know, she's here." And I was like, "Who is here?" So, it turns out that their mayor may not be a Sarah Brown in Florida, but there definitely was a Sarah Brown at this camp in the girl's dorm.

That in itself is not a problem because then I was going to go to plan B. Oh, wrong Sarah Brown, common name, common mistake. But what I didn't anticipate was that this news would pinball across

camp and get to Sarah and that made her nervous because Sarah, like me, had never kissed anyone.

And she didn't want people investigating her kissing history and then making fun of her for never having done so. So, instead of saying, "No, I don't know who this guy is," she said, "Ah, yeah, like we did, it's not a big deal." So, the next day, I'm eating a turkey sandwich and this like, for a long of guys comes up to me and they're like, "Yo, dude, we talked to Sarah. She remembers

“her kiss." And I'm like, "What?" But I didn't think she'd remember that's so crazy.”

And they're like, "Yo, this is great. You're going to have a reunion and this summer you're going to hook up." And I'm like, "Oh, crap." So, I kid you not the next six days, I basically hit in the bathroom for 45 minute intervals, trying to avoid this hormonal twilight obsessed roving mob of teenagers hungry for a romance to make happen in real life. But all good things must come to an end. And I emerge from the bathroom one day and low and behold, there is Sarah Brown.

And she comes up to me and she goes, "Hey, Sean, I'm Sarah."

I think it's really funny that you exist." It's like the legend of Bloody Mary. Like, I've said

“you're in name enough times that you've manifested yourself and are like, "Go to ruin my life."”

And we make a little bit more small talk and then she goes, "You know, like, we don't want to keep lying. Like, we can just like quickly make this true." And she gives me the look. And I'm like, "Oh, my God." I'm just processing the fact that my fake gay beard has manifested herself and is now proposing the summer fling that everyone thinks we already had at Epcot.

And the second thing growing through my mind is I don't want to make this real, but also I don't

want to keep lying. And it's like I am in this weird in between where I don't want the social capital. I'm lying solely as a defense mechanism. But my lies have backfired and instead of making me disappear, they've been pushing me further and further into the spotlight. So I realized in order to stop this roller coaster, I just have to be honest with this girl. And I'm like, Sarah, I can't. And she looks at me and she like squins her eyes and I can see the wheels turning.

And she goes, "You can't." And I say, "Yes." And she goes, "Because of your religion." And I go, yes. So actually that pretty much settled the matter. When you bring up Hinduism in rural Pennsylvania, people are just like, "Okay, cool." But not only was I thankful that

“this story died, I was really thankful that at this time in my life, this secret was such a burden.”

And I was really thankful for that moment. So I could see that in an environment as difficult as high school, there were other people sort of putting on a performance. And it made me feel a little bit less alone. So, thank you. That was Sean Gold. Sean won the story slam that night with this story and went on to tell another story at our New York City Grand Slam, which brings winners from 10 story slams across

the city to compete. In a moment, stories of personas and costumes, one done by an actor at a children's party, one worn by a lawyer, arguing in front of the Supreme Court, when the "Moth Radio Hour" continues. The "Moth Radio Hour" is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. With Cuba, every cafe on the street is at its place. With the new Cuba-Wan Capsule Machine

of Chibu, the famous cafe from special occasions. Full-Mondical Aromans, thank innovative press-brut technology and over-17-year cafe for every match. A book is already in the 1920s. And there are now the Cuba-Capsule Machine in their Chibu fiale and on Chibu. Our experience

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delicious. Cut, say fresh for Aldi, at all price, this week, Cess Brisangold Kiwi. The price of $5,50 or $5,500 for only $1.75. In a decade there are many of other Angebotes in Diner Aldi, North, Filialle, and Vieter Geetz. This is the "Moth Radio Hour". I'm Jay Ellison. In this episode, our stories are about crafting your image, playing a part,

“faking it until you make it, and dressing for the job you want. That's what our next storyteller,”

Dave Moran has to do when called upon to argue in front of the Supreme Court. Dave told the story to Grand Slam and Ann Arbor, where we partner with Michigan Radio. Here's Dave Moran. Mr. Moran, the deep baritone voice ring out,

United States. Four months earlier, the Court had granted review in a case that I was representing

“an indigent defendant who had been convicted of a crime greater than he should have been convicted”

of, and I had never been to the U.S. Supreme Court before. So I didn't know what I was in for,

and the first thing you do when you're a lawyer and you're going to a new court, you read the court rules. And I read the court rules and one of the first things I noticed is that a council shall appear and I quote, "in dark, conservative business as hire." Well, I'm a law professor and I dress badly, so I went to the department store at Briarwood Mall and I went to the men's department and after teaching a class at the end of the day and I was wearing pretty much what I'm wearing today,

khaki pants, polo shirt, five o'clock shadow, and I said, "I need a dark conservative business suit." And the man looked me over and he said, "Job interview sir." And I said, "No, U.S. Supreme Court argument." And I'm certain he didn't believe me,

“but I got to suit. And I, of course, the other thing you do when you're preparing for U.S. Supreme”

Court is you do a lot of preparation, so the case was about the double jeopardy clause of the fifth amendment for those lawyers present. I read everything, I every case I could to get misreaded as

I could, possible. But the problem is I never even seen a U.S. Supreme Court argument.

So in March 2003 and months before my scheduled argument, I flew to Washington and went to watch an argument of another criminal case. And the argument started and first thing that I noticed was that this is a really small room. Those of you who have been there know this is a really small courtroom. And the lawyer is just a few feet under the nose of Chief Justice William Rinkwist. And the argument started and it was the death penalty case and the lawyer arguing for the

inmate was getting into it was Justice Scalia about what the record really showed. And it turns out Justice Scalia had this weird habit of he would ask a question and he would think he was done

and then it'd be a deep breath and a long pause and then there'd be more question coming.

And the lawyer was very eager and he kept starting to answer the questions and then Justice Scalia would ask some more. And as happened two or three times and suddenly, just Chief Justice Rinkwist leaned forward and said, you will let Justice Scalia finish asking his questions. There will not be two people talking at the same time. Now the lawyer at the podium didn't seem phased at all. He just went on with his argument after a quick apology. But if cameras were allowed in the courtroom,

you would have a video of all of the blood draining out of me. So I came back home and I told people in Michigan about this terrifying experience and everybody had a Chief Justice Rinkwist story, how he loved to chew out attorneys. If an attorney sometimes got the name on the justice, this don't have name plates on the bench. And so some attorneys mistake the name and he would say,

“that was just a suit or not Justice Kennedy or the worst thing you could do would be to answer a”

question and start the answer with, well, Judge O'Connor, it's just a so-connor. So I was terrified that I was going to go there and be humiliated in front of my friends and family, all of who had been invited to go to Washington before me. But I prepared as best I could. I wore my suit, made sure to fit. And we flew to Washington in April 2004. Now the night before the argument, we all agreed to meet the friends and family and the other lawyers on the team. We met at a Mexican

restaurant just a few blocks from the Supreme Court. I ordered enchilada suizes. They were delicious. I thought, you know, Margarita's might help me sleep. So I had one Margarita and then I had another Margarita and I thought three Margaritas not a good idea. So I had two Margaritas and I got a good night's sleep. And I got up the next morning and we walked to the court and waited and waited until the case was called Mr. Maran and I walked up there, terrified that I was going to be humiliated, hand-shaking

and I said, Mr. Chief Justice and may it please the court and started the argument. And quickly the question started coming and the tension melted away because as a lawyer I'm very happy to answer questions as easier than just making a speech like this. And just to Scalia asked a lot of questions and I counted it to myself, thousand one, thousand two, thousand three. And I waited until I sure he was done and I began to answer. And the questions came and I thought it went pretty well

in 30 minutes of argument in front of that court and the case was over and I walked out the doors down the magnificent marble steps and thought that was pretty fun. And I've been back five times

been chewed out by any of the justices and I must say that Chief Justice Roberts runs a much nicer more friendly court than Chief Justice Ringuist but every time I walk out of there walk out those

“great doors and down those magnificent marble steps I think to myself damn that was fun.”

That was Dave Moran. Dave is a professor at the University of Michigan Law School where he

co-directs the Michigan Innocence Project. He always eats at the same Mexican restaurant the night

before a Supreme Court argument and he always orders the enchilada suezas and two margaritas and he bites a new suit. This is the second story of Dave's that's aired on the Moth radio hour and while this story features him dressing up his first story was about him dressing down way down and posing nude for a drawing class. To hear that story as well as see a photo of Dave fully closed on the steps of the Supreme Court visit TheMoth.org Next up Camille Quarabon Camille told this

“story at a story slam in Sydney, Australia where we partner with the Australian broadcasting”

corporation, ABCRN, here's Camille live from Sydney. Hello I'm Ferry Twinkle Toes, at least, at least I was. I worked at the Ferry's Wishing Wond on Unleave Road for four years I've been about 400 children's birthday parties. The Ferry's Wishing Wond was the name of the shop and it was run by a woman called Paul Lane. She used to smoke like a train during the parties that then burn marshmallow incense to cover up all the tobacco stitch. I did all the parties either

at the shop or he went out to their kids house and if you did at the shop then you had to do it in the enchanted forest. It wasn't that impressive really. There was like a big bunch of

“full and gum tree leaves and the corner that Paul Lane had spray painted gold. That was the enchanted tree.”

It had some fairy lights in it but most of them were blown out. I met Ferry Lavender. She changed me up. Ferry Lavender wore like a skin type purple leaf hard, a big purple fruit for a skirt like this purple head garland thing and big wings and size nine silver jeffice. I was horrified when I saw it was Tizzy didn't bowed and belt and I got given the exact same uniform but in pink. I was

on my way to the first party and I was in very lavender's car. She was banging a hold and

bring her up the freeway giving me tips. She was checking down the last of her up and go tell me what to do and what to do and everything. Whatever you do just don't give them me Wond. She said because they'll hit you with it. I looked down at the wand and I was just this spray painted jewel and crusted hunk of MDMF and I was really scared but she said chill. Just follow my late. So I did. Before too long twinkle toes was in demand. I was really good with kids. I'd

babysat for years. I babysat Chelsea Lambert that lived down the road for mum and dad's house.

She used to run down the street without telling her dad she was coming. Always under the

guys I wanted her hair done. She had a brush and a handful of bubbles and whatever and she'd pushed through the door and say, I need flat-stead can't do them. I always obliged because Chelsea was gorgeous. She was boisterous and bubbly. She came downing in one day when I was running off to work. Mum said no Chelsea I'll do your hair today because community was got to go to work at Subway. When I wrapped up to the fairy party that morning I heard the normal cheer and chatter

in the lawn. I walked in to the lounge room and the mum called out that the fairy was here and I saw them all come running enough the lawn and coming up the rear was Chelsea with eight plats flipping. She stopped dead in the doorway. Her lips were pierced and her forward head was just wrinkled with confusion as she stared at me. I was horrified. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't break the

to have to give the most convincing fairy performance of my life. I don't know like a academy or

“wood fairying. She sat down with the little girls in the circle and when I sang the songs that”

party I sang like an angel and I'm timed deaf. When I told her the story I put on all the voices when I painted their faces I put in extra detail I covered them in glitter I gave out all of the marshmallows. I wanted to convince her and by the end of the party she was smiling and laughing and laughing at all up. And I was like I've got these kids eating fairy bread out of the palm of my hand.

I hugged them all and gave them the hugs at the end and said goodbye and everything and

she muscled in and she kept me hugged. She put her arms around my neck and then when they're a little

“sticky marshmallow mouth she whispered in my ear. But I came out and she pulled back in the hug she”

eyeballed me. She'd be of a crooked smile and a twinkling one eye. I just blushed and then she turned a little plighted head and said it's like outside and straight to the swing set. She came round a couple of days later and she said to me that was you at that party, you know, wasn't it? Sometimes believing in something for the sake of other people can be really magical. So I looked at Chelsea and I said, no, that was very twinkle-towers. Chelsea is now 22 and I still can't admit that I'm very twinkle-towers.

Thank you. Camille Clarebaum is a production manager for broadcast news and current affairs network. She says she's also sometimes actress, terrible coffee snob, a neat freak, and a mother. Do you have a story you'd like to tell with the moth? You can pitch it to us right on our website by leaving about a two minute message summarizing your story or you can call us at 877799moth.

That's 8777996684. We listen to all the pitches and we develop many of them for moth shows all around the world.

“Remember, you can share these stories or others from the moth archive and by tickets to”

moth story telling events in your area, all through the moth.org. We have moth events here around. You can find a show near you and come out and tell a story. You can find us on social media too. We're on Facebook and Twitter at the moth. When we return, writer Ishmael Bia chronicles his transformation and that of his village when war comes to Sierra Leone. That's when the moth radio hour continues.

The moth radio hour is produced by Atlantic public media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. You're listening to the moth radio hour? I'm Jay Allison. Our final story in this hour comes from the writer Ishmael Bia. Ishmael recognizes the identity of his village by its soundscape and recognizes himself by the narratives he stores in his mind. Both of these are soon changed by war in his country. A caution, there are some vivid descriptions. He told this story at a moth event

celebrating the 100th birthday of the New York public library. Here's Ishmael Bia.

The evening always began with several commotions. One of them was the arrival of people

from their various places of work, from their farms, from whatever form of employment they had and they all came greeted each other and went into their houses. The second commotion was by children,

them to dinner, to have this grand meal of the day. And during this meal, all the young boys and

“men ate from the same plate and all the girls and the women ate from the same plate as well.”

When the eating started, which I was part of, the eldest or the oldest person at that gathering

of the male, particularly the one that I ate with, would stop it in first and then the second

oldest would stop and as it went down the line then the boy and the youngest person would be left at the plate with enough food for them to eat. And this was how the evening began in my small village in the south of Sierra Leone, West Africa where I'm from. After we finished eating, the fire had already been set with firewood and the darkness had come in very quickly that the only source of light were the flames of the fire that left into the air and we sat around and waited

for stories to be told to us. This was how we learned how to understand our history, the history

“of our families, of ourselves, our roles in the community, how we would function as children,”

but also as adults. These stories also, this oral tradition started many, many years ago before

I was born and this was a way that brought to us a way of listening actively so that we can hear not only with our ears, but also with our heart, with our eyes and we can hear beyond the words that were being told to us. At one of these gatherings I must have been about nine years old, my grandmother sat next to me and she whispered into my ears. She said, I want to let you know that each person's mind is their own personal library. And as life breeds this moment through you,

those moments becomes memories and those memories become narratives and those narratives become chapters and books that you put on that shelf of your personal library. And this is the only library

“that you have access to whenever you like. You can open and close it whenever you like. You can decide”

to nourish it. You can decide to use the information properly or improperly as it suits you. After my grandmother told me this, I began on a quest to decide, well if I'm in charge of this personal library of mine, I want to make sure that I stack on those shelves in my mind the best possible images sounds of my background, of my upbringing, of this place that I grew up. Where I grew up was so remote that most of the things that reminded me of what time of the day was where the

sounds of nature. I could tell what time of the day was by the position of my shadow and I didn't have a watch or any of these kinds of things. So the next morning after my grandmother told me this on my way to school, my school was about 30 minutes walk. But I would get all very early to go to school because going to school was a very unpredictable. You left about an hour and half to two hours because you didn't know what you encounter on the way. As a young boy in the place where I grew up in

every adult was responsible for you, every adult was your aunt, uncle, or could even be your mother and father. And so on the way to school, you greeted people elaborately, not the New York greeting hello, goodbye. It was more of you ask, how are you, how is your family, how is school, and you went on and on? And it was rude to just say I have to be in school. I'm going to be late and I'll be flog because of that you had to participate in the greeting fully. In addition to this

greeting, an older person will randomly ask you to perform a task, which could be, could you fetch firewood for me, could you go to the river and bring water for me? So young people had to get up very, very early to make sure that they can actually, you know, for this 30 minutes, right, they could think about two hours and sometimes it took that much. On my way to school, I had a plastic bag that had one X notebook that I had in it and also my shoes were wrapped in this bag so that it won't

be coated by the dust. So it was very dusty. So I walked barefoot and I allowed my mind to

take in the beautiful sounds that welcome the morning. First, there was a call for prayer that was

very loud, a zan that went deep into your heart and then in addition to that there were various birds singing, the vigorous ones were the sparrows in the door. So my grandmother also told me

And they did that every morning very vigorously. As I walked on, there were also sounds of

“brooms as people swept their yards. So the sound of the brooms meeting the dried leaves,”

filled the air as well. There are also the sounds of buckets that clattered in the arms of children as they went to the river to fetch water. There are older people sitting outside, clearing their throat, to remind young people who were still sleeping that it was time to wake up. There were people who were shopping in their cot glasses and stones and that sound actually made your tits sour as you walked by. And there was the sound of bells being wrong. This

will iron bears hung in the arms of mango trees. There were been wrong as a call for school.

When I got closer to my school, which was near the stream, I would wash my feet and then I

put on my shoes that I would ride looking very clean. We stood in line, there were cleanliness, check-up, check your hair. If you were scomed, I wouldn't survive at this point.

“And then we went into the classroom, which was the very one building that we had. It was a”

mod brick house with no roof and we would take out a few benches and some of us would sit outside under the mango tree and there was a blackboard and the teacher would start teaching. Now we didn't have very many books. So if we had one book, it was only the teachers. So for example, when we read Shakespeare, many occasions the teacher would come and he or she would recite to us. We are reading today, so so and so play,

you know, Julia Caesar, for example, and the teacher was read, friends, Roman countrymen, and we would repeat all the children, friends, Roman countrymen, land me or airs have come to berries, land me or airs have come to berries that this is how we learned. You made notes, and in order to gain access to this book, you became friends with the teacher. So after school, you could go to the teacher's house so that you would be able to read the book. Now based on how you behaved

in the community, how you took care of the book, the teacher would slowly trust you to allow you more time to read, but also lend you the book to take away and bring back. Now if you, the book was dirty, then you lost that privilege. So we became very close to our teachers. The teachers also were part of the community where they would actually come to your house in the evening to make sure that everyone was doing their homework. I didn't like this very much when I was a kid,

but in retrospect, it helped me. So in order to gain access to this book, you had to become part

“of the life of this teacher. I remember when we read Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson,”

the teacher made a good deal of making us react the story in the classroom and every young boy wanted to be Jim Hawkins. So we walked around our community pretending that we were Jim Hawkins of our very small village. Now all of this sound and all of this nurture and this knowledge began to change a few years later when I was 11 years old. When people began to come through my town, these are people who had been affected by the water that I started in my country. And they spoke

about what had happened to them, how do you have their houses have been burnt, their families have been killed, how do you have been walking for days, weeks, months? There was a gloomy feeling that came about. And later on when I was 12 years old, the world reached my part of the country. The sounds that I heard in the morning that woke me change and they were replaced by gunshots.

I was separated from my family during the first attack. I started running from this war and I

didn't know where they were. The belief that they could be alive was what kept me moving. And I was with the group of boys. Seven of us, we constantly started working on the countries I tried to look for our family. The sounds were no longer the same. The very sounds that woke me up as a boy, the bird singing, the call for prayer. People go into the river to fetch water. We are no longer there. Nature itself was afraid of what had come about. The only sounds that greeted night

or day or the wind that sailed was the sounds of guns or grenades exploding in a distance. And this was what filled my life completely and I began to slowly forget and distance myself from the very sounds that I heard as a kid. Now I began running from this war for about close to a year. I was constantly running everything I changed tremendously. And I came across somebody who told me that my family was in a small village that would be able to find them.

So we started running to this place and we began to hear the sounds of the village. And these were sounds that were familiar from when things were peaceful. There were women singing as the pounded rice in mortar. We could hear that. And we began to rush. We could see we could hear sounds

under the bushes in a banana farm, we heard somebody chopping up the bananas. And it was a man

“that I knew as a boy named Gassimo. And he came from under the bushes. And he said to also,”

"Oh, can you boys help me carry the trunks of banana into the village?" And of course, even though we were in a rush, then we could not refuse to do this. So we helped Gassimo to take the bananas to the village. As we were going with the banana, he told me, "Oh, your parents are going to be very happy to see you. Your brother is there. Everyone is there. And everyone has been waiting to see you. They've been worried that you may not be alive."

So it was very excited. We started horribly going down into the village. We began to hear gunshots. We began to see smoke and fire coming from the village. We began to hear men screaming at the top of their lungs. They are screeches scoffering the sounds of women and babies. They were crying. And they were gunshots and bullets flying in the air. So we ran from the hillside and tried to lay in the bushes so that we wouldn't be struck by stray bullets. After everything died

down, we arrived into this village. And we realized that everybody who had been in this village had been killed. People had been put down, face down and shot in the back of their heads.

“And their blood was the only thing coming out of their bodies. It was the only thing connecting them.”

As we walked around the village, trying to hope that somebody would be alive in this village, we heard in one of the buildings that were consumed with fire. Nails popping, teen roofs flying into touch roofs and creating more fire. We heard this noise coming from this building. And people were banging on the doors and the fire was consuming the house. And when the door broke open, the two people that came running was a woman and a little boy.

Everything happened so fast that we became rooted where we were standing, we couldn't move at all. They ran back and forth. They were hit a tree and they would run the other way again and they

were hit another building or another tree and they would run the other way. Finally, the woman

stopped moving and the boy sat on their mango tree and put his head down and stopped moving.

“As we walked around, we began to see other bodies as well. People in different pastures of pain,”

some holding their head, as you know, life departed them in that particular position. And we saw different kinds of things, ashes of people, burnt remains. As we were seeing these kinds of things that became quite angry, because I blamed Gassimo for making it possible for me not to see my family again. And I attacked him. I wanted to hurt him tremendously, because at this point, the pain of knowing

what had happened was so great that I wished I had seen my family one last time before this happened. I didn't understand that he had actually saved my life, so I actually wanted to kill him. My friends removed me from him. And between ourself, we started fighting because we blame each other for knew somebody was walking slow, so and so forth. As we were fighting amongst ourselves, we heard a noise of people coming to village, so we ran and hid into the nearby bushes.

And we saw young people coming to the village. Two of them, particularly where about my age, at this point I was 12 years old, and the world military outfits and guns, one had a gallon of petrol or carousine with a matches, the other had weapons. And they were laughing about how they got this village really good. How do I able to get everyone and kill them and nobody escaped. As we lay in this bush, under the shrubs, without being seen, looking at this young

people, I did not realize that a year later I would be one of these same people, one of the same young men that I was seen, that I would be one of those people going around and stuck in a different kind of narrative in the library of my own mind, but not only that, I grew up in a place where I also believed that I went and all the person dies, a library is destroys or burns. And now we were going around destroying the very same knowledge, the source of knowledge that could

add to our own narratives. And we didn't know what kind of library we were creating and worse of all, we were destroying the source of knowledge that perhaps could help us understand how our narratives would actually pan out. That was Ishmael Bia. Believing his family was dead, Ishmael was pulled into the violence and recruited as a boy soldier in Sierra Leone. His memoir

about his experience, a long way gone, has sold more than a million copies and it's been

translated into 40 languages.

This episode of The Mall 3D O'Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison,

“Katherine Burns, and Meg Bowls, co-producer, Vicky Merrick, associate producer, Emily Kouch.”

The stories were directed by Jennifer Hickson, Larry Rosen, with additional grand slam coaching

by Judy Powell. The rest of The Mall's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin,

“Janes Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluchay, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant,”

Inga Glidowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza. Most stories are true as remembered in a firm

by our storytellers. Our theme music is by the drift. Other music in this hour is from Epidemic Sound

“and Blue Dot Sessions, podcast music production support from Davy Sumner. We receive funding from”

the National Endowment for the Arts. The Mall 3D O'Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Wood's Hole, Massachusetts. Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including Executive Producer Leah Restennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, TheMouth.org.