By Dr Yusuf Bangura
I would like to start by thanking Alhaji, Junior, Adama, Daddy and the rest of the Bangura family for organising this memorial and birthday celebration event.
I’m very honoured and pleased to give a brief tribute to our dear sister, Haja Kadie, as we called her, who sadly left us 35 years ago.
My memory of, and feelings for, Haja remain fresh even after so many years. They are unlikely to fade or diminish in my life time.
She was a role model, a source of good counsel when I was growing up, and a confidant when I came of age, started work, and began to raise a family.
She played a big part in my childhood, ensuring that I stayed on the right track and achieved whatever goals I set for myself.
She had enormous confidence in my abilities. She encouraged me to stay grounded and focused.
Our bonding started when we moved to Freetown from Batkanu in 1956. My father was a forester—a job that took him to many of Sierra Leone’s forestry towns. In Freetown, his new assignment was to protect the Peninsular forest. I was about six years old—Haja was 14, and attending the Freetown Secondary School for Girls (FSSG).
Since we were living at Waterloo Street at the time, which was not very far from Brookfields where her school was located, she joined our family in the two bedroom apartment on the upper floor of the backhouse that our father had just built. He had built the main building with a shop, facing the street, in the late 1940s when he was working in the provinces and rented it out.
Haja; my elder sister, Adama; my younger brother, Alusine; and I shared the same bed. It was a very big bed, or so it seemed to me as a young boy. I recall that Haja occupied the front part of the bed; Adama slept right behind her; Alusine slept next to Adama; and I was at the back, next to the wall.
Nothing promotes feelings of family togetherness more than sharing the same bed. That experience in my formative years endeared me greatly to Haja as an elder sister and someone whom I grew up to profoundly respect.
I recall one incident when we were growing up at Waterloo Street. Some young children and I were fond of teasing a few older people in the compound. She didn’t like our behaviour and admonished us to stop—she told us that we would not remain young for ever; and if we persisted in disturbing others, the same treatment would be meted out to us later in life. That simple advice stayed with me into adulthood.
Haja was highly disciplined, hard-working and incredibly well organised. She seemed to have developed a professional outlook even before she embarked on her career.
After graduating from the FSSG, she decided to pursue a career in nursing by enrolling at the National School of Nursing. Her quest for knowledge led her to seek further studies at Ibadan in Nigeria.
She was diligent, had a deep respect for rules, and cared a lot for others. These attributes made me believe that she was cut out for her chosen profession–brought into this world to serve humanity in the medical field.
Her specialisation was in public health. As a Nursing Sister, she did a great deal of work with pregnant women, lactating mothers, and under-five children at the Antental Clinic at Fourah Bay Road in Freetown and various clinics around the country.
Haja was the daughter of one of my father’s brothers. Her mother, Ya Mabinty, was very fond of me when we were growing up. I once spent a month’s holiday with her at Pepel, where she lived.
Four things stood out for me during that holiday: the rich breakfast of coffee, bread and sardines that she served every morning; my visit to Lunsar to see the iron ore mines and the port at Pepel where iron ore was processed for shipment; my interactions with numerous holidaymakers from different schools in the country; and my daily ‘job’ of taking Ya Mabinty’s sheep to the fields for them to graze and going for them in the evening.
I was amazed that the sheep always recognised me by walking towards me when I went for them, and they led the way home to their sheds without me pulling them by their ropes. I couldn’t believe that they were that intelligent. That holiday exposed me to life in a semi-urban/semi-rural environment.
Perhaps, the most important contribution that Haja made to my life was introducing me to my wife, Kadie. It’s an interesting story. Haja was one of the few relations that was always frank and open with me. She did not hesitate to challenge me on issues she felt strongly about.
I was 28 years old when I completed my doctoral studies. She felt at the time that it was time to settle down with a wife and start a family. But she didn’t seriously broach the subject until I turned 30. Every interaction with her whenever I visited home would not be complete without a question on the girl I was dating and the need to get married. I laughed off her persistent questions and advice every time she brought up the subject.
Interestingly, my mother exerted no pressure on me to get married. She once remarked that she had been seeing girls coming to visit me without even greeting her; but since I had not introduced anyone to her she assumed that my relationship with them was not serious. But Haja would not allow me to remain a bachelor for a long period after completing my education.
In 1980, when she raised the issue, I retorted that she liked to pressure me to get married but had not introduced me to any girl.
She took the challenge, responded that I had given her an assignment and would report back in my next visit. And she did. When I visited in 1981, she confidently told me she would like me to meet a beautiful and well-mannered girl at the Princess Christian Maternity Hospital complex where she was working.
We arranged a time for the visit. She briefly introduced Kadie to me outside one of the hospital buildings and left us. Kadie was irresistible. We instantly connected and agreed to go out for a meal. The rest, as they say, is history: a wedding the following year, two lovely and successful children, and three beautiful grandchildren. We celebrated 42 years of our marriage five days ago.
How I wished she were around to see the finished and joyous product of her work, as well as her wonderful children– Adama, Daddy, Alhaji, and Junior, who are all very successful in their careers. Unfortunately, her fifth child, Isata, passed away 23 years ago.
Haja was devoted to her family. She and her husband, Korth Alpha, whose 89th birthday we are also celebrating today, raised their children amazingly well.
Happy birthday Korth Alpha, and may Haja and Isata rest in eternal peace.
Dr. Bangura, the author wrote from 42C Chemin de Prélaz, 1260 Nyon in Switzerland