Okay, one more try.
I left Sierra Leone nearly six months ago on January 5, 2023. Kim will be home soon and I still haven’t finished my post for her blog. If you know me, you know I’m a little long-winded when telling a story. That’s only part of my struggle. The biggest issue is this: How do you write a blog post short enough to keep the reader’s attention when even the first part of the experience – the airport arrival – could be its own long-form entry in said blog? I’ve finally come to the conclusion I should cover some of the highlights and then, if it’s interesting enough, write subsequent posts, provided Kim keeps her blog going for a little while after her return.
I arrived in Makeni December 15, 2022, after 27 hours of travel from Minneapolis to Paris to Freetown then a two and a half hour drive to Makeni. It was night. It was hot and muggy. And, although due to airport chaos it took about ten minutes with Kim before I got a hug and a kiss, I knew she was as happy to see me as I was to see her. I’d barely sat down on her sofa when she brought me a Corona with a slice of lime wedged in its mouth. It had been more than 100 days since we’d seen each other and it was great to be together again. Then I slept for 10 hours.
One reason Kim was looking forward to my visit was having someone else back home when she returned who had experienced the country, even if only for a few weeks to help explain to people back here. It was quickly apparent upon my arrival why she felt that way.
Sierra Leone is, unfortunately, not a vacation destination at the present time. It’s a beautiful country full of beautiful people, to be sure. But it’s also a very poor country with a government that does not appear to have the best interests of its citizens as a high priority. Basic infrastructure – water, power, trash collection – is lacking throughout the country. Kim has experienced intermittent water and power throughout her stay, particularly during the dry season. Food security is not common. It’s hard to draw in the tourism dollar – which is deeply in need – when the country isn’t meeting its own citizens’ basic needs.
All of this makes me believe that’s why, in three weeks I met so few people from outside Sierra Leone. I have traveled a fair amount in my life and never – even while in Cuba – have I experienced the lack of tourism I did in Sierra Leone. To understand this you need only take the example of two gentlemen I met while boarding my flight from Paris to Freetown who were returning for the first time since they’d left during the civil war, which ended in 2002. Terrence, who now lives in Seattle, was in his mid-teens when his family fled the war. Foday, now living in Los Angeles, was 10 when he fled with an older sibling to neighboring Guinea before eventually making their way to the United States. We spoke for about 20 minutes before boarding started and both expressed nervousness about what they would find upon this, their first visit back in more than 30 years. They were visiting family for the holidays but said the country hadn’t come back from the civil war. When I told them I wasn’t staying overnight in Freetown, but instead being driven to Makeni following our nighttime arrival, they tried to persuade me to change plans as the two and a half hour drive wasn’t safe at night. Although they hadn’t been back in decades they were to be visiting family who remained, so they know the conditions. It’s no wonder I met so few non-Sierra Leoneans in my three week stay.
I did, however, meet so many wonderful Sierra Leoneans during my stay. The first week was spent at Kim’s apartment on the UNIMAK campus. I met the team she’s working with while she’s there. Andrew, the head of Inclusion and Special Needs Education (ISNE), Kim’s department, introduced us to part of his family. He has two daughters and three sons. We met Andrew and his sons Felix Musa, who is working on a bachelor’s degree in nursing, Eric Gbosogo, who is a Community Health Officer and Joseph Alie, who is working on a bachelor’s degree in Business Administration and Management, for beers at a local restaurant. They joked and laughed with each other but were rather shy with us. They left early and I enjoyed observing their interaction, like three buddies hanging out. It’s good they all get along as they all three climbed aboard one motorcycle for the ride away.
I met Jess and Ferenkeh, Kim’s lovely neighbors who were quite generous with their time while I was there, especially considering they were just a week away from their wedding, which they also invited us to attend. In a traditional Sierra Leonean wedding the couple chooses fabric, called lapas, in the colors and patterns they like, and the wedding guests have clothes made from them. Ferenkeh also explained the concept of BMT. On my second night we were to attend an end of year gathering on campus. We were told it would start at 7:00 but the starting time was fluid and ranged as late as, “show up at 9:00.” Still confused about the time we ran into Ferenkeh who said, “You know about BMT, right?” We’d been referring to it as Africa Time. In the local parlance it’s Black Man Time, a phrase Kim and I never used. It’s that tendency for nothing to start at its actual start time. Even their wedding started an hour and forty minutes late.
We went to dinner with Jess and Ferenkeh twice in the week before their wedding. At the first dinner I got into a barbecue discussion with Ferenkeh. This led to our second dinner where Ferenkeh introduced us to goat bbq. We went to a place where that’s all they do, cook goat over an open fire. You pick out the meat you want, they pull it off the grill where it’s been slow cooking. They then add seasonings according to your preferences, chop it up and wrap it in newspaper to go. We took ours to a bar with outdoor seating – as all bars have – and ate it with beers. It was a little slice of goat heaven.
Ibrahim was the first person I met when I arrived. He drove Kim two and a half hours to retrieve me from the airport and then the same two and a half hours back. He also drove us to Freetown and the drop off point for Banana Islands, then back to pick us up ten days later. A six hour round trip each time. He’s gruff and grumpy and at times I was frightened out of my mind in the back seat while he drove. But he is also kind and helpful, driving Kim and I around Makeni looking for a place to repair my broken glasses after our return from Banana Islands. Another time he grabbed a campus bus and took us to the store because we were out of beer.
Regarding the aforementioned broken glasses, after first visiting a shop where there was a guy who could, “fix anything” we wound up at a hospital where an eye doctor, a slight, older man, whose name I failed to get but who was incredibly eager to help, took my glasses and disappeared for about 15 minutes before returning with them. The temple had broken off and I was using rubber bands wrapped around my head to keep them in place. He’d attached a new temple. Workable, but crooked, he disappeared again for another few minutes, returning with a new temple that kept them straight. We learned he’d trained in Wisconsin. For that personal service and immediate results we were charged by the hospital the approximate equivalent of five dollars.
I met Michael, the Estate Officer of UNIMAK but possibly more widely known as the guy that gets things done. He always seemed to have a smile and is very helpful. He knows where to go and whom to talk to about whatever you need. When Kim and I were trying to find a tailor to make clothes for a wedding he put us in his vehicle and drove us to a place. Walked in with us, told the tailor what we needed, when we needed it and how much we were going to pay. It was not a negotiation.
I met Kadiatu, Kim’s cleaning woman and Aminata, the main security guard who calls Kim mama, and me papa. She brought puff cakes and plantain chips and coconut cake which I fell in love with. Kim doesn’t know it yet but she has one suitcase reserved for plantain chips and coconut cake only.
And I of course met Santigie, the daytime security guard, of whom Kim has grown quite fond. He’s about the same age as Noah, Kim’s son and they will miss each other quite a lot when she comes back. He’s very sweet, but around me was quite shy. According to Kim he’s normally very talkative, gregarious almost, but around me he was quiet, seeming almost intimidated. I think for him I am the person who will be taking Kim away when she comes home, and it pains his heart. I’m glad they’re close and Kim has a friend there.
Banana Islands was fun although our resort was not a resort. I have described it as sub-rustic. It was not quiet. It was not peaceful. It was not private. And during the days we spent as much time away from Dalton’s as we possibly could, hiking for hours, stopping at a beach bar where we spent an inordinate amount of time watching cooking shows with the locals while drinking local beer. This place epitomized my Sierra Leone sadness. This beautiful beach with beautiful views on this isolated island. But to walk on it was discomforting without shoes, not because of rocks but because of the trash you may step on. I promised Kim I wouldn’t go on about that so I’ll leave it at this: lack of infrastructure and how the rest of the world keeps the countries of Africa down is a real problem.
My favorite day in Sierra Leone was my second. Kim had asked if I would speak at one of her classes. I could write pages about this experience, but I’ll be brief. Kim is helping to set up a program to teach students to be special education teachers. Disabilities are categorized quite differently there than here. I won’t speak to that as it’s Kim’s area of expertise. She wanted me to talk about my brother, John, to emphasize the positive experience that our family has had with John and give a real voice to the idea that you can look at a person with a disability as a valuable member of your family and community. I could talk about John for hours and the students, based on their attentiveness and the exchange of ideas we had, would have let me. While I was only supposed to take up a brief window in the class, we filled the entire time discussing not just John, but the contrast of experiences for people with disabilities in our respective countries. When I talked about our experience with John moving out of our house and into new living arrangements, one gentleman raised his hand and pointed out the distinct difference between the options we had with John versus the lack of any options they have in Sierra Leone. That discussion led to an acknowledgement that they, the UNIMAK students’ pursuit of special education degrees, may be at the beginning of admittedly slow steps of progress in that area.
After class they each came up to me for a picture, giving their phones to a classmate to snap that shot. They were so polite, introducing themselves and shaking my hand, smiling for photographs. I kind of felt like a rock star.
I could go on. The Mass at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church. The absolute chaotic insanity of the market – I’ve got video. The heat. The termite mounds on Banana Islands that were twice my height and at least that in diameter. If I think too much about them I won’t sleep well. The fully loaded semis departing Makeni for Freetown in the evening, with people and goats on top for the three hour drive. The motorcycles driving ever closer to you, honking to offer you a ride as you walked along the road. The same motorcycles giving rides to a family of four, with a small child sitting on the gas tank, holding the handle bars. The children yelling, “potoh, potoh, potoh”, everywhere you go. Potoh is Krio for white person.
The smiles. Everywhere the smiles.
It’s too much for a guest blog post. It was a wonderful experience, except for the leaving. If Kim goes back, as she plans to do, I will most surely go with her.
