BY: Augusta Osmatu Bangura There was a boy, barely twelve, whose mornings began not with breakfast or toys but with the naked will to survive. When he was five, most of his peers were already in school, learning their letters and numbers, but he was not. His parents were alive, young, and seemingly able, yet for reasons he could never understand, they did not put him in school. Another woman, seeing his hunger to learn, took pity on him and enrolled him. But when he came to l

By: Augusta Osmatu Bangura A young woman arrives at the Family Support Unit clutching her baby, her left eye swollen, her voice barely above a whisper. It isn’t the first time she’s been hit, but it is the first time she has dared to report it. If you’re going through the same thing, you know you can be like her, right? And speak up! It happened hours earlier on the outskirts of Freetown. Children sat quietly in a compound, too small to understand the raised voices that broke

For months, the brick dust in Almaty clung to his skin like a curse. Every morning before dawn, Client 7 NLT, a young Sierra Leonean man, woke to that same cruel reality. He would join seven others, including two fellow Sierra Leoneans, five Nigerians, and a Ghanaian, to mould and lift bricks in silence. Their passports were gone, their wages stolen, their hope slowly dying in a factory thousands of miles from home. Back in Sierra Leone, his family waited for the dream they h