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Updated on March 21, 2010

This story was inspired by the life and memory of Chief M.KO. Abiola.

I was not born a special child nor with a golden or silver spoon. Honestly, poverty originated from my household. Living in a shack with four siblings, a father who toiled day and night yet could not provide enough and a mother who worked Sunday to Sunday yet could not help made my life uglier than devil.

Remembering all that my family passed through made me believe that everyone is special. “For Rainbow, there must be sun and rain.”
My name is Daniel and i am from Sierra lone. My story is not different from yours.


our Family house
our Family house
Dad planting his corn
Dad planting his corn
Only hope
Only hope
The ugly
The ugly

The night of 14th July 1989 was a course upon my family, the smoke was thick and the whole place in darkness, Dad helped everyone out but the fire was spreading rapidly, they noticed that i was trapped inside the but there was no way to save me, i heard everyone shouting then i figured out that i have to save myself, running into flames was suicidal but i had no other option, could remember how they all tried and extinguished the flames on me.

Sixty percent burn with no money for surgery and the doctor’s belief that that my brain was damaged were my road to the great beyond.Everyone pitied me but wished that i would just die peacefully while sleeping, mom could not stand my cries, and the pains were too much for me. 2nd of June was my last day at the hospital but thanks to Jude, he gave us a room in his house. The rug was my own portion though mom and dad were always there with words of comfort.

I could not eat nor do anything by myself, my food needed to be crushed so it could pass my throat, moving me was a big problem as the kindest touch on me rekindles the pains on my burnt skin, i was bed ridden but my siblings made me fury, they always come around, talk to me and helped me in every way you can imagine. Chris, Tony, Deborah and Junior were my Angels. One day mom decided to remove my bandages so my wounds could feel fresh air.

Two years passed though my injuries were slightly gone but the pains were still there and the scars visible, speaking was a problem though i could eat solid foods like rice and bread by now but i was still bed ridden and every one believed that i will remain a total knot.

I could still remember the tears that drops from mom’s eyes every time she come home and sit watching me, dad always told me how much he loved me, times were hard and buying my medications was out of the question. Panadol was the only affordable tablet to my family’s reach.

There were always friends, neighbors and even strangers who always come to visit me and the gifts they normally gave me helped so many occasions put food on the family’s table. My ordeal was not hidden; the government heard about me through the ministry of Education but ignored my plight. I don’t know how he heard it but he came to visit me.



I have not met him but i have seen so many pictures of him in Sierra Lone, everyone was totally shocked when i called him by his name Abiola. There was joy mixed with tears, here is a total knot who has not spoken for years, he held my hand and called me Son, his tears dropped right on my body.

According to the Spanish doctor who took care of me, my Hippocampus was 100% intact, that part of the brain which stores memory.

I got my education and a specialty in Gynecology, thanks to Late Chief M.K.O Abiola, a Nigeria Philanthropist; he saved me and gave life to my family.

Let me leave the rest of this story to your imagination.

Dr. Dan
Dr. Dan


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