Fanta, the Precious Gift: The Extraordinary Transformation in the Life of a Young Girl

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As citizens of Sierra Leone working in Guinea, we often crossed borders for project business. Since my mom owned a two-story house in Sierra Leone, we would stay there whenever we visited. My uncle Foday, his wife Ramatu and their family occupied the downstairs while the upper apartment was left vacant for any guests needing lodging. This is how we met Fanta.

When Fanta was 17, her mom sent her to live in the city with her aunt and uncle, Aminata and Osman. Fanta’s father had died, and her mom was very old and lived in the village. After a while, Aminata left Osman, returning to her home village, because they did not get along. She put Fanta under his custody. When Fanta discovered that Uncle Osman was a womanizer, she asked Aminata to take her back to Aminata’s village. Aminata realized that Fanta needed someone else to take care of her, so she asked Ramatu, my uncle Foday’s wife and Fanta’s closest relative, to take responsibility for her. My uncle Foday agreed.

One day, my husband and our family traveled to Sierra Leone to renew our passports. Upon arriving at Mom’s house, Uncle Foday and his family welcomed us, helping us carry our luggage to the house. As my eyes caught a glimpse of a short girl hefting heavy bags, I asked my uncle, “Who is this little girl?”

“She is my wife’s relative,” Uncle Foday replied. He appreciated Fanta and loved her heart of gold and her devotion to her Muslim faith. She had been raised in a home that shaped her to be very helpful, honest, caring, considerate and always ready to render help, even if she was tired. Although there were other children in the household, Fanta stood out, and visitors always recognized her kind-heartedness.

The next morning, I went downstairs and greeted Uncle Foday’s family before returning upstairs. After a few minutes, Fanta came up and said, “Aunty, if you need help, you let me know.”

“Okay,” I said. But, due to my introverted personality, I knew asking would be hard for me. However, Fanta is not the type who waits for anyone to ask her for help. She went into my kitchen, took some buckets, and started fetching water to fill all the containers.

Sadly, Fanta’s help with laundry, cooking and other chores caused a big problem for her at home, yet she never said a word to me. It seems that Aunty Ramatu was afraid to confront her when I was around, instead waiting until they were down in their apartment.

When we left, I tried to give Fanta some money, but she rejected my offer. “I’m not helping to earn money. This is how I was raised.” I tried to give her money on future occasions, too, but Fanta declined. Finally, I began buying gifts for her and the entire family to avoid murmuring whenever I stayed at the house.

During one of our stays, we noticed Fanta’s struggles intensify. The other children hated her, calling her names. Aunty Ramatu accused Fanta of being a gossiper, a thief and a gold digger, although Fanta never accepted a dime for all the help she gave. We tried to intervene, but Fanta would always say she was okay. She would not reveal anything to us.

When the project ended in Guinea, about a year and a half later, we returned to the house in Sierra Leone for a vacation. COVID-19 struck, and our stay extended. During this time, much truth was revealed. Anytime Fanta was with us, she would laugh and play, but when she went downstairs, her Aunty Ramatu would insult her and use all kinds of harsh words. Fanta continued to be treated harshly. Aunty Ramatu was the controlling and disrespectful type. Even though Uncle Foday would try to intervene at times, he often was not there, leaving the home at 6:00 a.m. and usually not returning until 9:00 or 10:00 p.m.
Fanta was not allowed to use the restroom in the house, and she had to shower outside—a girl in her late teens. She would fetch the water for the bathroom, but she was never allowed to use it. Fanta had to fetch her own water if she needed some. It broke our hearts to realize she used a plastic bucket as a toilet and had to manually empty it into a hole in the septic tank. That was the last straw.

“Fanta, what is going on?” I asked.

“It is nothing.”

“That is not true. We have heard and seen all that is happening, even if you refuse to admit it. If you need any help, we are here for you.”

“Okay,” she replied.

As God would have it, a sick young lady the same age as Fanta was staying with me. Fanta confided in her. Through this sick girl, I was able to understand much about Fanta’s life. Fanta had strange dreams in which people chased her and forced her to eat raw meat and drink blood. Muslims believe dreams like this are an act of witchcraft, and to Fanta’s understanding, evil people were trying to introduce her to witchcraft through these dreams.

One day, when Fanta was alone at home, I had a deep conversation with her, telling her that if ever she faced anything of the sort again, to call on the name of Jesus. She then asked for a Bible, and we gave her one.

Time went by, and we moved out of the house. Then we received a phone call that Uncle Foday’s daughter, Zainab, suffered a serious demonic attack that left her speechless and without the strength to walk. Ramatu took Zainab to the hospital, where they remained for three weeks without Zainab showing any improvement. As Ramatu was a strict Muslim, I was a bit hesitant to talk with her about Christian prayer. But she became desperate, eventually calling me and pleading for any help we could give to Zainab during this life-and-death situation.

I proposed to Ramatu that we invite Pastor Reynolds to visit us and intercede in prayer and fasting for Zainab’s deliverance. He was the Adventist pastor for the Fria church in Guinea, with whom I had been working in the deliverance ministry. Ramatu and Uncle Foday agreed and even provided Pastor Reynold’s transportation.

When Pastor Reynolds arrived, we spent three days fasting and praying, including morning prayers with the whole family. Fanta decided to join us. After the three days, we proceeded with the deliverance. Finally, Zainab was free and recovered, talking and moving, a breakthrough that increased Fanta’s faith.

One day, after our project in Guinea had ended and our family had moved to Kono, Fanta called me. “I have been having attacks at night. I tried calling on the name of Prophet Mohammed, but it did not work. It was not until I called on the name of our Lord Jesus that the spirits ran away. Since then, when I am ready to go to bed, I will pray and recite Psalm 23.” I encouraged her to keep it up.

Sadly, Ramatu falsely accused Fanta of stealing her money and causing many problems. I investigated. Though the accusations were all false, Ramatu used the accusations to get rid of her. Fanta then moved in with her sister who lived in another city.

My husband and I had decided beforehand that the day Fanta left the house, we would do everything within our power to give her a better life. We asked her sister’s permission for Fanta to come and stay with us. Her sister agreed. We then enrolled Fanta in a local university, where she is doing well and is very happy. Now a baptized Seventh-day Adventist, Fanta continues to live with us.

Please pray for Fanta and others like her who are orphaned in spirit, seeking truth.

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