By Davida Spaine Solomon
Freetown, 9th December 2025- The gate is small. If you pass too quickly, you might not even notice it. But for many women and girls in Bo, what’s behind that gate has been the difference between giving up and choosing to go on.
Inside the Rainbo Initiative centre, voices are soft. Some days there is laughter. Some days there are tears. Most days, there is quiet strength. A young university student came here after the worst night of her life.
She doesn’t like to describe everything that happened and no one forces her to. What she says is enough: armed men broke into her room. She was threatened. She was hurt. When they left, they took more than her belongings. They took her peace.
“In my head, everything was finished,” she said.
For days, she stayed inside. She didn’t return to school. She barely spoke. She jumped at every sound. Fear followed her like a shadow.
It was at the hospital that someone told her about Rainbo.
She remembers walking in for the first time, unsure, afraid, expecting questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Instead, she was given water. She was asked gently how she was feeling. No pressure. No judgment. “They treated me like I still mattered,” she said.
She received medical care. She began counselling. When school felt impossible, the centre helped her find a way back. Little by little, she started showing up for life again.
Today, she is back in class. Not fully healed she admits that freely but standing again.
“I still get scared,” she said. “But I am no longer alone with it.”
Stories like hers are common here. Since 2018, the Rainbo Initiative in Bo has worked with thousands of survivors of sexual and gender-based violence. Some arrive bleeding. Some arrive broken in quiet ways. Some arrive after keeping their pain secret for months. The staff see it all.
“People think violence only damages the body,” one counsellor said. “But it destroys trust, it destroys confidence, it destroys dreams.”
In Sierra Leone, many survivors never come forward. Some are silenced by family. Some are scared of their attackers. Some are tired of not being believed. And many simply don’t know where to go.
Rainbo remains one of the few places where a survivor can walk in and say, ‘This happened to me,’ and be met with care instead of questions.
The centre’s work is supported by partners including the European Union and Irish Aid. Their funding helps cover medication, counselling, and small support packages that allow survivors to restart life whether it’s returning to school, learning a skill, or opening a small business.
During the EU Bus Tour 2025, visitors passed through the centre. They saw the counselling rooms. They met survivors. They listened. For the staff, the work is heavy, but it’s also personal.
“Sometimes we cry with them,” said Program Coordinator Fatu Favor Fomba. “Sometimes we celebrate with them. Every woman who survives becomes part of us.”
For the student, healing is still ongoing. Some nights sleep does not come easily. Some days the memories return without warning. But she wakes up. She goes to class. She talks about the future again.
“I thought my life had ended,” she said. “Now I know it didn’t.”
And behind that small gate in Bo, another woman is always arriving. Another story is always waiting. And Rainbo keeps the door open.
