A Little Bird With Clipped Wings...

       "One afternoon when I was little, I was sitting underneath a coconut tree when a tiny yellow and brown weaver dropped suddenly from the sky. I don't know what made the little bird fall, but it landed with a thud on the red clay earth. I moved to help it then decided not to. The weaver was injured. It was better off dying on its own than having me take it back o the village, where it would likely die in pain a day or two later or, worse, live out it;s life with a broken wing. For the longest time, I watched as that stubborn bird tried to stand up on its crooked little legs, flapping its wings wildly, only to topple over and lie still before trying all over again.

          Then something miraculous happened. After the bird had lain motionless for so long I thought it was dead, it stood up as solid as ever and lifted off into the sky" When a little bird begins life they don't know how to fly. They soon to learn how, and flying becomes so natural that they become accustomed to doing it everyday without any efforts. Then, one day, without no heads up, someone comes along and decides to cut them off. How will that bird live without something they are so used to having? How will that bird ever be considered normal again by other birds or even other species? Ask Mariatu Kamara. She of all people would know. In her book, The Bite of the Mango, Mariatu describes something that none of us Canadians could imagine. Many people don't look deep enough but, that bird was a symbol. It symbolized Mariatu. 

          Mariatu was born in a small Sierra Leone village, she seemed to be happy little girl, though she wouldn't know what would happen twelve years later. Scared. She would be scared as the rebels coming to take apart her village. She was sick that little boys the same age as her could have the guts to laugh and cut off her hands. She was hungry a she wondered helplessly through the woods in search of help.She was shocked that she was "somehow" pregnant. She wanted to die.
            I can relate to Mariatu, except not in such an extreme way. I have a bad day or I get hurt and I can't do anything the way I'm used to doing it. When I broke my right thumb, I couldn't write in school, so I had to write with my left hand. I couldn't shower properly without getting my cast wet and wrecking it. I couldn't eat like a considerably normal person. I couldn't use a fork like I was used to using it. I felt helpless and like a baby.  I can also connect text to world because I know for a fact that in some countries kids are facing the same consequences. in some cases way more serious consequences. in some cases there are way more serious cases than just getting your hands cut off. A friend of mine the other day, told me about a book she was reading for a book talk that she was doing. Her description of the book sounded a lot like Mariatu's story of war and tons of pain.
              No matter all the pain and sorrows that Mariatu has faced her story never ends. Just like that little brown and yellow weaver, she got up as strong as ever. She flew away and she is still soaring.