Amputee centre

Collected up all our spare rations, hitched a helicopter ride and headed into downtown Freetown.  Arrived near a beautiful beach.  Watched some locals net fishing.  The scene would have been idyllic had it not been for the terrible pollution.  Rubbish everywhere, on the beach, in the water, on the roads.  And it stank.  Rotten foodstuffs, dog carcass, old fruit fermenting away.  It was a 3 km walk through the town to the Amputee centre.  Although I was with a mate (Mal) and we were both armed it was not advised to go off without patrol strength (in fact it was not allowed!)  Shit happens.  We drew a lot of attention and what few market sellers were there bombarded us with 'special prices' for carved wooden goods.  Most people were friendly although some open hostility was encountered.  Arriving at the refugee centre a large crowd gathered.  I introduced myself to the 'head man' and upon reflex offered my hand to him to shake.  He offered his and it was not until I grasped it that I realised it was plastic.  He was lucky.  The majority of the refugees had no prosthetics.  Women, children, old men, young men, babies...............all had undergone amputation and physical abuse at the hands of the rebels.  Usually by machete but sometimes by knife.  There were over 700 people in that camp.  All because the rebels wanted to make sure that they left their mark.  Anyway we spent the day and night there treating wounds rife with infection and just talking.  So many people wanted to tell their story.  Each was different.  Each was horrific. Did we manage to make a difference?  Not at all.  Not even a tiny drop in the ocean.  I just hope that some of the people remember that not everyone with a gun is bad.