Missed and Missing…

Well, I’m back in Freetown, Sierra Leone – having returned to my “second home” just a week ago following a wonderful visit back to bustling Toronto and the chilly climes of Canada. I missed the warmth and sunshine of this place… not to mention the friends and colleagues I’ve managed to connect with over my previous seven months in “sweet Salone”.

I know I’ve been remiss with my postings to this blog and my letters to friends and family in Canada. Sorry… Or, “osh-ya” in Kreole, which means, “I’m sorry. I beg of you.”

The past few months here – from about the middle of October through to the end of my original contract on December the 15th - were very hectic… to understate the obvious. I’d “hit my stride” as they say and workshops for local journalists, teaching at the university, meetings, etc. got the better of my time and limited resources. It was good, however, and I honestly felt I was having an impact, making in-roads and noticing the positive influence I was having on the state of media and human rights here in Sierra Leone. Okay… the world didn’t change. Sierra Leone journalists didn’t miraculously learn to report and write and broadcast. And much of what I was up to wasn’t easily recognized… but I noticed. I’ll try to update everyone on those “noticeables” when I get another chance.

One thing that did change was the status of Sierra Leone on both the Human Poverty Index and the Human Development Index, according to the UN… Sierra Leone was ranked last/worst… for several years. And, while I was here, sometime between July and December 2009, Sierra Leone rose to second last on those listings. Afghanistan is now worse than Sierra Leone… for obvious reasons, and I’m taking sole credit for this miraculous surge in development. (kidding)

What I wanted to write about were the things I missed about Freetown while in Canada… and there were many. Of course the first, and now ever present, sun and warmth. I’m sitting outside on the verandah, in the dark, in shorts and a tee-shirt – wiggling my toes in sandals. It’s the middle of January… and I can’t even imagine wearing a parka, scarf, boots and mittens.

I missed the street life. Here, everyone lives, works, sleeps, eats and lives their lives outside… in markets, along streets, in courtyards, on the beach, etc. It’s an outdoor culture, which makes for interesting and lively walks to and from places. Yes, I walk everywhere here… or mostly everywhere. And, I missed that. While I was in the Toronto area, I had to drive everywhere – things were so far apart and I couldn’t help notice the lack of street life and the few people venturing from car to house or shopping mall to car.

I missed the food and have now had my re-fill of rice, cassava leaves, potato leaves, palm oil, fresh and dried fish, and of course, the sting of hot African peppers in everything. It’s a wonderfully simple diet I’ve become accustomed to over these months. And, eating once a day seems to suit me just fine…

I missed the many friendly faces who greet me on almost every corner. Freetown and Sierra Leone are open places where people greet each other on the street and ask, “how are you?” at every opportunity. I haven’t managed to accept or use the standard response, “tell gawd tenk-yee” but I always smile and respond with “plenty fine and you?” The security guards in the compound and along the hillside up from my apartment greet me warmly everyday. And, the military policeman who stands at the barracks gate always waves and bows – to which I reply with a semi-Buddhist clasp of hands or thumbs-up greeting depending on what I’m carrying that day.

I missed shaking hands with everyone I see and having conversations, holding hands, with male friends as I walk down the street. I still feel a little strange about it but I’m getting used to it. I remember walking with Andrew on the boardwalk in Toronto and thinking – if I were in Freetown, we’d be holding hands…

I missed random acts of friendliness and kindness. On Friday, I got caught without Leones not having exchanged US dollars for Leones with “my Rasta man/friend, Emmanuel” on the street corner. I was walking to a meeting, very early in the morning, and my friend who runs the neighbourhood internet café, Alpha, and I struck up a conversation. He asked where I was going… and I explained my predicament. He ended up loaning me 10,000 Leone so I could get a taxi to my meeting. I was very appreciative… especially because there’s a sign in the café that reads, “credit will be available… tomorrow”.

And, my regular retailer of peppers and groundnut at the Aberdeen market – a woman I call “Sisseh” (for sister), offered to buy me my fish from another market stall because I still haven’t learned to tell a good dried barracuda from a bad one. She takes good care of me… probably because she sees me struggling sometimes to purchase and cook African dishes like groundnut stew or drinks like ginger beer. I’d hate to know what she repeats to her family and friends about this “crazy or ignorant ‘white’ man” who buys the wrong fish or too much pepper for his suppers.

I missed the wonderfully happy, smiling three-year-old girl who hangs around with her mother at the corner store at the top of my road. Hannah loves to be picked up and tickled… and is always ripe for a giggle and a hug. The other day she was wearing her blue velvetine dress she got for Cmas… and apparently hasn’t taken off since.

I missed the little eight-year-old girls, Precious and Francis, in their green school dresses, who come by my office everyday after their classes. The church across the road hosts a government school by day and these two girls drop by and I teach them to spell a new word everyday. Their teacher, Mrs. LaHaye, is even taking note of their increased spelling prowess. On Friday they brought along a five-year-old sibling who wanted to learn how to spell. I can see I’ll soon have a gaggle of kids gathering in front of the office…

I missed the beach… I haven’t had a chance to get to the luscious beaches down the coast but I’ve briefly visited Aberdeen and Lumley beach near my apartment. There’s nothing like the sound and smell of rolling oceanic waves to soothe the icicles from of my blood. I can’t wait to venture to my two favourite beaches, Lakka and Beach Two – perhaps later in the month.

I’ve missed having to hand wash my clothes, bed sheet, pillow cases, towels, etc. (NOT) Okay… that was something I could live without, for sure, and throwing a load of laundry into my mother’s chrome washing machine was incredible. But, I’m surprised how I missed having to calculate when and how to wash my clothes.

I missed the sensation of cracking open a cold beer, taking that first slug and watching the condensation bead and roll down the side of the can on a blistering hot day. I missed sweating and having to drink at least two litres of water everyday. Weirdly, I think my bladder was in shock with the change in water intake and water retention/processing while in Canada. I’m back to sweating and not urinating… Sorry, “TMI” – too much information.

Speaking of thirst – I missed the Salone thirst for books, reading materials, knowledge and questions about where I come from and what I’m doing here. Over and over again I hear, “Sierra Leoneons love strangers” and it’s true… people here are very curious and inquisitive. And, they love to talk… “tok-tok” as they say… Canadians may be friendly and slightly curious but the reservations of most Canadians took me awhile to get used to again. We are a conservative lot, despite our wish for more liberal approaches to politics, positions and people.

Other things I missed about Sierra Leone while I was in Canada…

- Sleeping without a blanket
- Sleeping under a mosquito net
- Slathering bug repellent whenever I go out at night
- Open windows
- Crowded taxis and poda-podas
- Blue skies
- Market haggling and dickering or negotiating for a cheaper price on everything from taxi rides to rice
- Lawlessness and “official guidelines” like bribes, commissions and scams
- Heat rash
- Cold showers
- Intermittent power, darkness and no internet service
- Bugs in the kitchen
- Sand on the floor and dust everywhere
- Sweaty computer keyboards
- The sounds of croaking frogs from the sewage ditch that drains down the hill on the other side of my compound wall
- My special Salone friends; Mary, Sputnik, Elvis, Momoh, Lylla, Sulak, Arthur, and my landlords, Mala and Kishen, among many others.

And, now that I’m back in “sweet Salone” I miss certain things about Canada. But, those will have to wait for another blog-thing… and I promise I won’t wait too long.

Yours,
S/