- At 38 weeks pregnant, Catherine was admitted to hospital but an examination showed a complication and a c-section was the only option to save Catherine and her baby. But they had to pay for the surgery upfront
- Sierra Leone, where Catherine lived with her husband, was in the middle of civil war, so work was scarce and money was tight
- Writhing in pain, Catherine fell asleep thinking she’d die but she woke to a stranger beside her – Aly, a nurse from New Zealand. She was touring the hospital from a nearby Mercy Ship she volunteered on
- Knowing Catherine was on borrowed time, Aly tracked down a doctor who offered to pay the $100 surgery cost and deliver Catherine’s baby safely
- Catherine Conteh, from Perth, WA shares her story of how she and Aly shared a special bond and found each other 30 years later…
Writhing in pain, I’d already been in labour for 12 hours.
It was 1993 in Sierra Leone; I was 18 years old and newly married to my husband Augustine, 23.
We were so looking forward to the birth of our first child.
At 38 weeks, I began having contractions and was admitted to hospital.
But there was still no sign of the baby.
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Read more: I married the nurse who brought me back from the dead
A doctor examined me and determined I had Placenta Previa – a condition where the placenta covers the opening of the uterus.
A C-section was the only option but we’d have to pay for the surgery upfront.
“We can’t afford that or pain relief,” I sobbed to Augustine, frightened and in agony.
Our finances were tight. Sierra Leone was in a civil war, and work was scarce.
We could only hope the problem resolved itself naturally.
I lay waiting in unbearable pain for another four days.
I’ll lose my baby and my life if nothing happens, I thought, terrified.
People were dying around me. I could see them being wheeled out through a crack in the hospital curtain.
Am I next? I worried.
Exhausted, I eventually fell asleep.
When I woke, a woman was at my bedside, stroking my hair.
The stranger said her name was Aly, a nurse from New Zealand, and she and other volunteers were touring the hospital from a nearby Mercy Ship, docked at Freetown.
The charity operates hospital ships that deliver vital, free healthcare and surgeries to people in countries with scarce resources.
Nurses had told Aly that without intervention, my baby and I would die.
There was little she could do other than say a heartfelt prayer.
A moment later, Dr Keith Thomson, an anaesthetist who had also been touring the hospital, joined her, and when Aly told him my story, he immediately offered to pay the $100 for the surgery.
Nurses excitedly began preparing me for theatre.
“These strangers are going to pay,” one told me, delighted.
The operation was successful, and my baby girl, Regina, arrived healthy.
Her birth was a miracle. Aly had saved our lives!
In the days that followed, she continued to visit, bringing me medicine and, more importantly – hope.
“Thank you, sister,” I said, smiling.
“My pleasure, sister,” she replied, warmly.
Eventually, Regina and I were discharged, and Aly returned to Auckland.
We vowed to stay in touch but over time, we lost contact.
In 1995, Dr Thomson reconnected with me through my local church and formed a close bond with my family
When Sierra Leone became too dangerous, he helped us seek refuge in neighbouring Guinea, then later, Ghana, supporting us financially.
By 2005, we were able to apply for refuge resettlement in Australia.
Inspired by Dr Thomson and Aly, I became a nurse and when Regina turned 22, she did too.
Dr Thomson even came to Regina’s wedding.
For years, I thought about Aly and even tried finding her through social media.
Then, one day in 2022, Dr Thomson called out of the blue.
“I’ve found Aly,” he said.
She’d seen a post shared by Dr Thomson on the Mercy Ships Facebook page and had contacted him.
I was delighted we’d found each other, and soon Aly and I were chatting on the phone!
It was exciting to tell her about my life and to hear about hers.
Sadly, Dr Thomson was diagnosed with cancer, and when he deteriorated, I flew to the UK to care for him, as he’d cared for me.
He told me he hoped Aly and I might volunteer together on Mercy Ships in Sierra Leone.
After a couple of weeks, I had to return home. He passed away peacefully a few months later in April 2023, aged 75.
To honour his legacy, Aly and I planned to meet onboard a ship that September and applied to volunteer.
Although we couldn’t work in the hospital because the rota was already complete, we could work together in the dining room.
We jumped at the chance!
We didn’t care what we did, we were just happy we found each other and could be side by side.
It took a full day to fly from Perth to Sierra Leone, then there was the drive to the dock in Freetown.
Hurry, I thought impatiently, as the car sped me closer to Aly.
By then, she was 52. We hadn’t seen each other for 30 years.
As the ship’s dock came into view, my heart started beating wildly.
Aly’s blonde hair and huge smile stood out a mile away.
The car had barely come to a stop when I ran to her.
We sobbed as we hugged.
“Seeing you in person,” I said through tears, “I just can’t believe it. We’ve found each other.”
“This isn’t something I ever expected,” Aly said emotionally.
Finally, meeting Aly again in Freetown, three decades on from where our story started, was a beautiful full-circle moment.
Being together every day for four weeks was pure joy.
Since parting, we chat daily on WhatsApp.
I’ve learned one small act of kindness towards another can change a life.
My sister Aly and I are living proof.
Aly Hall, 52, says:
Touring the hospital where Catherine was in labour was an alarming experience. It was upsetting to think that $100 was all it would take to save their lives.
When we finally found each other, it was surreal talking to Catherine after all these years. It was wonderful to hear that she had been able to flee Sierra Leone, learn English and eventually move to Australia with her family and become a nurse.
Our connection has become strong. We call each other ‘sister’. We truly feel like we are sisters.
