Why I Write, by Ishmael Beah

I am not a writer. I am a storyteller. I am not a storyteller by choice. I am a storyteller out of necessity.

It is my background that has forced me to become a storyteller. And surviving through childhood in war-ravaged Sierra Leone as a child soldier has, I believe, provided me with a sufficient number of stories. Not just any stories, however. These are tales that have crowded my brain for years, banging at the doors, begging to be released and devoured. I was not able to set them free until I found the proper means, during the appropriate time in my life. This came only after my graduation from Oberlin College in 2004, when I had finally become comfortable and accomplished in my new life.

These stories had been ready, and now, so was I. The only way to do this right, i decided, was to put them all in a book. Sure, I had made speeches and such, yet a book is on a much more intimate level with the audience. It is simply you and the reader. I'd have the liberty of putting about twenty hours of straight speaking (which nobody would ever stick around to listen to) onto paper without omitting any one detail that I found important. All this while still keeping an audience! The decision was final - I would release these nagging stories through the pen. After revisiting a plethora of emotional experiences, the job was finally through. The result? "A Long Way Gone."

I have found that my stories have not only benefited myself, but also others like me. My memoir has a political purpose. It lets all of its readers know what evil exists out there, and what terrible acts people are capable of committing in the most desperate of situations. In a way, I am giving a voice to all of the child soldiers living today, releasing their stories for others to hear. Perhaps there will be one reader who will not only read the emotions on the paper, but will experience these emotions with me, will feel the pain, the loss, the evil. They will act upon these feelings to make change, and prevent one generation of storytellers from having to enter the genre of tragedy.

Yet in the end, all is not tragedy. I remain alive and well to pass on my stories - not only the tragic ones, but those that are cheerful, too. As the backed up stories came gushing out, I was almost surprised to see how many of these were of pleasant times, before the war. moments spent with my family and friends that are now forever memorialized, and will not be negated by the overabundance of unpleasant memories.

Finally, through my storytelling, I have brought peace and serenity to my once crowded, bubbling-over brain. It is an escape, therapy, an extra hard drive; it is a filing cabinet, separating the stories from the three worlds in which I live today: "my dreams, and the experiences of my new life, which trigger memories from the past." I can only hope my storytelling can do as much good for others as it has done for me.