Praise for A LONG WAY GONE

“You will have to wait for the ones you left outside to dry,” he said.“We cannot allow a civilian to talk to us like that,” someone said, and we all shouted inagreement and rushed at Poppay. We unleashed blows on him. One of the boys stabbed hisfoot and he fell down. He put his hands over his head as we kicked him relentlessly and lefthim lying on the floor bleeding and unconscious. We shouted in excitement as we walkedback to our verandah. Gradually, we became quiet. I was angry, because I missed my squadand needed more violence.A security guy who watched the center took Poppay to the hospital. Several days later,Poppay returned during lunchtime, limping but with a smile on his face. “It is not your faultthat you did such a thing to me,” he said, as he strolled through the dining hall. This made usangry, because we wanted “the civilians,” as we referred to the staff members, to respect usas soldiers who were capable of severely harming them. Most of the staff members werelike that; they returned smiling after we hurt them. It was as if they had made a pact not togive up on us. Their smiles made us hate them all the more.My hands had begun to shake uncontrollably and my migraines had returned with avengeance. It was as if a blacksmith had an anvil in my head. I would hear and feel thehammering of metal in my head, and these unbearable sharp sounds made my veins andmuscles sour. I cringed and rolled around on the floor by my bed or sometimes on theverandah. No one paid any attention, as everyone was busy going through their ownwithdrawal stages in different ways. Alhaji, for example, punched the cement pillar of oneof the buildings until his knuckles bled and his bone began to show. He was taken to themini-hospital and put to sleep for several days so that he would stop hurting himself.One day we decided to break the glass windows in the classrooms. I do not remember