A Personal Story

Dauda Sausy was the subject of a story published in 2017 in The Catholic Commentator, discussing the many trials and tribulations he faced on his journey as a refugee from Sierra Leone. He shares his story below, with updates on what steps he has taken to help in his own way to bring unity in a divided world.) 

Special to the Catholic Commentator

The week after Nov. 3, as President Trump and his GOP supporters railed about a corrupt and stolen election, I experienced terrible flashbacks to my homeland, Sierra Leone. 

In my native country, disgruntled military officers used false claims of corruption to stage a coup and overthrow the existing government. The country descended into civil war, which forced me to flee and seek refuge in the United States. 

As a Black man and refugee, I’ll admit the anger and lies on the airwaves filled me with fear.

To be clear, the majority of my neighbors here in Baton Rouge have always treated me with kindness and respect. And being able to cast my ballot in the country’s most secure election ever filled me with pride. I was and remain grateful to have found a new home in this incredible country. 

And yet, election night showed me how divided we’d become. 

When Joe Biden officially became the President-elect, a weight was lifted from my chest. He’s promised to reassert the country’s commitment to asylum-seekers and refugees. Most importantly, he has promised to lead with humanity and civility. 

For me, as for so many refugees, these values mean everything. They are what unite our communities and strengthen our democracy. These values protect us from horrors unimaginable to most Americans. Take it from a refugee: In this moment of profound political, economic and social uncertainty, humanity and civility is how we will make it through.

As a child I was raised to put community first. In Sierra Leone my father was our village chief. People reported concerns to him, and he would find solutions. He was a dedicated and passionate leader who loved serving his community. Even travelers passing through our village were invited to stay with us, and my mom would feed them. 

My parent’s concern for others had a profound impact on me. Sierra Leone has some of the world’s highest maternal and infant mortality rates, and I wanted to save lives. I dreamed of becoming a pediatrician or gynecologist. 

Everything changed one afternoon when I was 16. Rebel forces approached my friends and accused us of scribbling anti-rebel sentiments on a nearby wall. The punishment was amputation. 

My hand was on the block when my dad rushed over to plead for our mercy. He begged the rebels to take him instead. Those were his last words before they shot him. 

The next thing I remember is waking up in a makeshift military camp. My hand was injured and I had been shot in the leg. I was told my family home had been set on fire with my mom, siblings and relatives inside. I was sent alone to a Gambian refugee camp, where I lived for 10 years before being resettled here in 2009.

From that moment, I set about trying to contribute to the country that saved my life. 

In 2017, I co-founded the Louisiana Organization for Refugees and Immigrants to help newcomers integrate. When the pandemic hit, we started a “One Community” initiative with the city, connecting vulnerable immigrants with essential resources and information. This has helped everyone in Baton Rouge stay safe.

I’m not alone in this work. Healthcare is the second most common field for refugees in the U.S., according to New American Economy. My wife Alima is a nursing assistant at a nursing home, risking her own health to help Louisiana buck the current wave of coronavirus. Tens of thousands of refugees are currently working in other essential jobs, from meat packing plants – which have been ravaged by the virus to agriculture and food service. Nationally, more than 31,000  refugees work in grocery stores and supermarkets and are a significant portion of truck drivers,  who are critical to our supply chain. 

Like so many refugees, mine is a story of perseverance. I eventually learned that my mom had survived; she is now living in Sierra Leone. I also met my wife and welcomed our first child in the refugee camp. 

Today, we are the proud parents of five beautiful children. Every day, I wake up determined to honor my father’s legacy by being the best dad, husband and community member I can be. 

It’s helped us build a thriving life here in Louisiana. Wherever my dad is now – and I believe he is in heaven – I know he would be smiling down on our accomplishments and contributions. 

I was thinking of him this Ramadan when my family packed our car with food and delivered it to those less fortunate, just like he took me to do in Sierra Leone. Despite the divisiveness and political fighting I see on TV, I think about my neighbors in Baton Rouge and I remain hopeful. 

Americans, too, can persevere. With humanity and civility in our hearts, we will overcome what divides us.