Two young lives ended in the search for gold

In this Sierra Leone village, there was a sense of disbelief as people wept over the bodies of two teenage boys wrapped in white cloth.

The day before, Mohamed Bangura, 16, and Yayah Jenneh, 17, had left their home in Nyimbadu, in the country’s eastern province, hoping to earn some extra money for their family.

They went in search of gold and never came back. The makeshift pit they dug collapsed.

It was the third fatal mining disaster in the region in the past four years, killing at least five children.

Mohammed and Yaya are among an increasing number of children in parts of Sierra Leone who are missing school to mine precious metals in potentially deadly mines, according to school principals and community activists.

The Eastern Province is historically known for diamond mining. But in recent years, as diamond reserves have been depleted, informal (or artisanal) gold mining has expanded.

In this land of riches, mining sites appear wherever locals discover mineral deposits, whether in farmland, former burial grounds or riverbeds.

There are few formal mining companies operating here, but in areas that are not considered profitable, the landscape is dotted with these unregulated pits up to 4m (13 feet) deep.

Similar and equally dangerous mines can be found in many African countries, and fatal collapses are often reported.

Most families in Nimbadu rely on small-scale agriculture and petty trade for their livelihood. There are few other employment opportunities, so the opportunity to earn extra cash is very attractive.

But members of the village community gathered at the local funeral home knew the work came at a cost, with the loss of two young, hopeful lives.

Yayah’s mother, Namina Jenneh, is a widow and has been relying on her young son to support her five other children.

As someone who has worked in the mines herself, she admitted she was the one who introduced Yayah to the mining industry, but said: “He didn’t tell me he was going to that site – if I had known I would have stopped him.”

When she heard about the collapse, she said she begged someone to “call the excavator driver.

“When he arrived, he cleared the rubble where the children were buried.”

But it was too late to save them.

Ms. Jenny’s words were filled with deep pain. She scrolls through photos of her son on her phone with a cracked screen, a bright-eyed boy supporting her.

Sahr Ansumana, a local child protection activist, took me to the collapsed pit.

“If you ask some parents, they will tell you there is no other option. They are poor, they are widows, they are single parents,” he said.

“They have to look after the children. They themselves are encouraging the children to go into mining. We are struggling and need help. It’s worrying and it’s out of control.”

But the warning went unheeded—the departure of Yaya and Muhammad did not clear the pit.

The day after the funeral, miners, including children, were back at work, their hands sifting sand by the river or inspecting hand-excavated earth for glimmers of gold.

At one location, I met 17-year-old Komba Sesay, who wants to be a lawyer but spends his daytime hours here supporting his mother.

“There’s no money,” he said. “That’s what we’re trying to find. I’m working so I can register and take my (high school) exams. I want to go back to school. I’m not happy here.”

Kham’s income is meager. Most days he earns about $3.50 (£2.65) – less than half the country’s minimum wage. But he persevered, hoping to get rich. On some very rare good days, he found enough ore to earn him $35.

Of course, he knew the job was risky. A friend of Komba was injured in the cave collapse. But he felt that mining was the only way for him to make money.

It’s not just students who are leaving school.

Roosevelt Bundo, the principal of Gbogboafeh Aladura Junior High School in Nyimbadu, said, “Teachers will also go to the mine after class to mine with the students.”

Their government salaries cannot compete with the income they receive from gold mining.

There are also signs of broader change around the mining hub. Over the past two years, what was once a small camp has grown into a town.

The government says it is addressing the issue.

Information Minister Cherno Ba told the BBC that the government remained committed to education, but added that the country recognized the many challenges faced by people.

“We spend around 8.9% of GDP on education, the highest among other countries in the sub-region,” he said, adding that the funds went to teachers, school feeding programs and subsidies aimed at keeping children in class.

But in reality, reality is cruel. Immediate survival often trumps policy.

Charities and local campaigners try to get children out of the pits and back into school, but without reliable income alternatives, the pits are too attractive.

Back in Nimbaldo, the families of the two dead boys appeared exhausted and exhausted.

More than just two young lives were lost. This is a generation of eroding possibilities.

“We need help,” said activist Mr Ansumana. “Not a prayer. Not a promise. Help.”