Adama Bah - Accused: My Story of Injustice

Contents

Thank you to my parents, Mamadou and Aissatou, and to my siblings, Alpha, Maraima, Abdoul, and Saeed. They endured so much, stayed by my side, and supported me no matter what.

David, my teacher, my friend, and my brother. When I was so afraid to speak, he gave me a voice, stood by me, and also supported me no matter what!

Series edited by Dave Eggers, Zainab Nasrati, Zo Ruiz, and Amanda Uhle.

CONTENTS

Dave Eggers, Zainab Nasrati, and Zo Ruiz

One of the best ways to understand a complicated issue is through the story of a person who lived at the center of it. If you want to learn about what would drive teenagers to fight for young womens rights to education in Burundi, why not read the story of someone directly involved? This is what this series is all about: letting young peoplewho have seen and lived through recent historytell their stories.

Its important to understand other peoples struggles, especially people who live in different places or come from different backgrounds than you do. Our hope with this book series is that by hearing one persons story, our readers will learn about many peoples struggles and think about what we can do together to help make the world better.

Teenagers like Malala Yousafzai and Greta Thunberg became iconic for standing up for what they believe is right. Other teens, not yet as well known, have also stepped up to make a difference. When Salvador Gmez-Coln was a teenager, Hurricane Maria hit his hometown of San Juan, Puerto Rico, and he jumped into action, helping people in need there. When Gilda Temaj was only sixteen, she had to leave her home in Guatemala alone and make her way to the United States. Now that shes a college student, Gilda is studying to become a lawyer so she can help others who seek safe haven in the United States.

The I, Witness books will bring you stories of ordinary kids and teens like you who have faced extraordinary challenges in their lives. Their stories are exciting and surprising. At times they are sad, and at others they are joyful. We hope that you will consider your own life and your own story as you read. Is your life very similar to the authors? Or very different? Is there a problem in the world or in your life that you would like to help solve?

In this book, youll meet Adama Bah, who was arrested and put in jail as a young teenager because she was wrongly accused of crimes. While its unlikely that many of our readers will face such an awful circumstance, we know that many of us will be misjudged by our appearance like Adama was or we will face a different terrifying, unexpected situation. As readers ourselves, we learned so much from the way Adama persevered through these difficulties. We hope that you will be encouraged and strengthened by her story, as we are.

I didnt know I wasnt an American until I was sixteen and I was in handcuffs.

I was born in Conakry, the capital city of Guinea, in 1988. In Africa and in many developing countries, people hear about the riches to be had in America. Its the land of opportunity. My dad left behind his life of farming in Guinea and came to America for the promise of a new life. He settled in Brooklyn, working as a cabdriver and saving money to bring our family over to the United States. The year I turned two, I came to the United States with my mother and we joined my father in New York. After my mother and I moved to America, my four younger siblingsthree brothers and one sisterwere born in the United States.

While growing up in New York, I always had many cousins around. They were all Guinean immigrants. They werent my real family, but they were my neighbors and our closeness bonded us like blood. We created a community together thousands of miles away from the country that bred us. The friends that I had in New York were Latinx and African American. During my youth, I fit in with them. We all experienced the same issues, like boys, gossip, and puberty. I wish those were the problems that I thought about now.

I went to public school until the seventh grade. At that point, my dad decided that I should learn about my religion, so he sent me to an Islamic boarding school in Buffalo, New York. Looking back, my family was never really that religious, but my dad had heard about the school from somebody who recommended it and he decided to send me there.

I was thirteen years old on September 11, 2001. That day, all of the teachers came in late and had the students sit in a huge circle. My teacher said, I have to talk to you guys. For those of you who are from New York City, I want you to brace yourselves. I have some bad news. Sometimes things happen in life that we dont understand. She started talking about God and how to be patient and steadfast. Then she said, The Twin Towers were hit today.

I freaked out. I panicked and tried desperately to reach my family, but I couldnt get in contact with them. When my teacher called us back for a second meeting, she announced that a Muslim might have been behind the attack and that it might cause public hatred toward the Islamic community.

What do you mean? I asked. They think we all did it? We didnt plot it. I dont have nothing to do with it. Why would we all be blamed for it? So many thoughts raced through my head: Who is Osama bin Laden? Why would he do this? This act is against Islam. None of us at the school knew who bin Laden was. The other students and I started to make jokes about him. My friends said to me, Your name is very close to his name: Adama, Osama. We laughed.

The next day, someone threw a rock through the window of the school. I couldnt understand what would motivate someone to do thatthe boarding school was an education center, a place for learning and safety. We werent plotting anything, and we certainly didnt support Osama bin Laden. A couple of weeks later, I was finally able to talk to my family and they told me that they were fine. My dad said, Shh, dont even talk about it. Be quiet. Goodbye. He refused to discuss anything over the phone, afraid that someone was listening.

I felt the effect of 9/11 in the tense air when I went back to New York two months later for Ramadan break. There were six of us students who had to get on a plane to go back to the city. We wore clothing that I had started to wear when I went to boarding school. The clothing was pitch-black and covered our faces and bodies. We were even wearing gloves; all you could see were our eyes, peering out of black fabric figures. I couldnt believe the way people stared at us. They pointed at us and turned red, hurrying away from us in the airport. Whispers of, Whats going on? flitted among my classmates. We were terrified. I thought that those strangers were going to attack me in public. At boarding school, we had been sheltered. We didnt know what was going on around the country. We didnt know about the hate crimeswe didnt know anything. We hadnt expected to be treated like this.

That day at the airport, the six of us were given extra screenings compared to the other passengers. Our bags were checked with careful eyes and we were pulled to the side for more inspection. We were marked as suspicious based on our clothing and our religion. The security guards were nasty to us; the passengers were nasty to us; the airline workers were nasty to us. When my classmates and I boarded the plane, the pilot took one look at us and shook his head. It made me feel awful. Strangers cursed at us, yelled at us, and sucked their teeth, saying, Go back to your country, you Talibani! Go back to Osama bin Laden!