Ishmael Beah

And so through this conversation, my grandfather would say to some of the people that, you know, she lives by her own rules and she does whatever she wants.

The only thing I know is that she loves me and her family deeply and that's enough for me.

I remember watching my grandfather whenever my grandmother returned.

He was ready, and he would open up.

He had this old suitcase that was old as the world.

It was dark, like the color of earth, and he would open it.

Inside was very new, and he had books and pens arranged, and he had this small perfume bottle he would take, and he would dress very nicely, and he would spray it.

And I would watch him, and I'd look at him, and he would turn to me and say, you know, I have an advice for you, my grandson.

A man is only as good as his ability to make his woman loved all the time.

Remember that.

And I would say, OK.

And then he would come back on the veranda with his cassette tape, and he would press play, and he would sit, and he would play that music that my grandmother would love.

The traditional music would begin to fill the air.

And my grandmother would be sitting in the yard resting, and she would look, and my grandfather's eyes would be ready to meet hers.

She would look at her, and then she would get up, and she would go into the room, and when she returned, she was elegantly dressed, and my grandfather was waiting to hold her hand.

She would refuse at first, be reluctant, and then they would start dancing, and they would start dancing, and I would admire them.

This was one of the last memories I had of my grandmother before the war began, where we lost everybody, and a lot of people died during that time.

At the beginning of the war,

Everybody was separated from their families.

I didn't know what had happened to my brothers and my mother.