The capital city of Sierra Leone is Freetown, named by slaves who were freed from the US, Nova Scotia and Great Britain and returned to their home country in West Africa. Slaves from all over Africa were returned to this British colony, and the settlement became a mixing pot of many cultures. The country thrived as a trading grounds for West Africa for many years.
Between the years of 1991 to 2002, the country was devastated by one of the worst civil wars ever known. (If you've seen the movie, then you have some idea.) The country has been left with a shaky infrastructure and the government is left merely trying to survive. Thousands were killed and injured, women were beaten and raped, children were torn from their homes and forced to fight.
The country today is slowly beginning to rebuild- there are signs, if you look hard enough- but the people have not lost hope. They continue on with their Krio greetings..."Cushe, How de body?" as if nothing ever happened...
These are my accounts of my time in Sah Lone as they say:
Friday, March 9, 2012
After two long days of travel, we arrived in Freetown, Sierra Leone. Yesterday we spent our day in the heart of consumerism in a high end shopping district of D.C. and today I'm just glad I have electricity and running water.
We arrived at the Freetown airport just after dark, and after re-reading our instructions on "how to survive customs and baggage claim" in Sierra Leone, I will admit I was a bit intimidated. We unloaded from the plane and I could instantly feel the weight of the hot night air (just like I miss from those hot Louisiana nights). We shoved our way through the lines and onto an airport shuttle bus. I had no idea where we were going, but I was bound and determined to appear confident- a valiant effort that did not last. We exited the bus and immediately entered one of three lines, two of which were for Sierra Leoneans. We showed our visas and received our stamps, and all the while I'm standing there dumb-founded by the stark contrast of my earlier statement with the realization of exactly where I am...I'm not in West Virginia anymore!!
The sounds of the people yelling in some language that although it sounded very familiar, I could not understand; resonated through the concrete building. The smells seemed to linger in the air from all around with nowhere to go because the thick motionless air trapped it under your nostrils for far longer than you'd like.
We made our way through the lines and past the Yellow Fever doctors. "They have the right to detain you for 7 days if they find you suspicious of Yellow Fever," I recalled Dr. Asher's instructions. I shoved my way through to the front of the baggage claim, weaving and sliding in between people in the crowd. After snatching our bags, we passed them to a porter who loaded them and helped us carry them outside. As we exited, people were yelling and tugging at us trying to persuade us to take their taxi or to use their service to exchange our American money. Everyone had signs for something they were selling or promoting. Everyone wanted money.
We explained, over the noise of the chaos behind us that we had been instructed to meet Dr. Asher from Kamakwie in the parking lot. We cross the dirty street and leave the crowds behind. There is a street light where we rest our luggage on the curb (if you want to call it that). Immediately we were surrounded by 5-7 Sierra Leoneans asking in a rapid dialect if we would like to use their cell phones. Finally, one guy stepped forward and informed us that he was Wesleyan and he knew a friend of the Ashers. As he stepped aside to make the phone call, a police officer came to us. We told him our story and he assured us that he would be around to help if we needed him. He seemed very suspicious, but then again maybe I just had my guard up. I am always distrusting, but even more so now. He left and the man with the phone came back with word that Dr. Asher was running late because the ferry was delayed, but he was on his way. We thanked the man for his help, but he did not leave. With still no sign of Dr. Asher, the police officer returned. He began to explain to us that because the man with our bags was a porter, he worked without a salary and he had a big family to support. He encouraged us to pay him. I spoke up saying that we did not yet have any money in Sierra Leone. This answer was apparently not good enough as he came closer and spoke more firmly when saying, "This man is here to help you and you have nothing for him? You need to pay him for his work!" I stood my ground, "I have nothing to give!" He walked away, but only to return a few moments later to tell us that the airport was beginning to clear and if our ride did not show, he would "find for us a taxi- a nice taxi with air conditioner". Over 30 minutes had passed. Fear and anxiety were beginning to settle in, and I think he could sense it. He was becoming quite pushy, but again I was persistent in saying we had a ride. "Fine," he says "I will check back in 15 minutes and if your ride has not yet come, then I will find for you a taxi." And with that he disappeared again.
Finally, I look up to see through the clearing of the airport doors from across the street, the blue and gold of a Mountaineer shirt walking toward us. At first sight, I forget that that should be a surprising find, but then I remember where I am. He looks over towards us, "Phillip? Angela?" Thank you JESUS! Just as he stuck out his hand for a greeting, the crowds swarm in again. Each of the men wanting to be paid for their work in helping us...from the phone call to the bags and even the police officer for "protecting" us (even though I was under the impression that it was his job). They were all demanding money from him. It was a quick uproar, which died down just as quickly. I then realized that all these people kept hanging around in hopes that they would be able to collect money for taking good care of the white man. Even the officer's boss came over and collected his share.
As the men took their pay, we walked towards the truck and threw our bags in back. Our driver, Stephen, pulled out and headed towards the ferry. A short 15 minutes later we arrive at the dock. The smell of fishy salt water hoovered in the air. I notice that there are people everywhere. Men, women, and children were gathered along the roadside. Some directing traffic, other selling produce, but many just watching and waiting, for what I do not know. Just watching the world pass them by, I suppose. As if they had nothing better to do. A few seconds later, loud music begins to play and there are children dancing in the street. "It is very late," I'm thinking "Why are all these people here so late?"
After we load the truck onto the ferry, we get out and walk upstairs. Dr. Asher led us into a room that much resembled a bar that I had a vague recollection of from back home. Somewhere a feeling of a New Orleans night life enters my head and it is slightly comforting. We enjoy casual conversation as we make the 45 minute ferry ride into the actual city of Freetown.
Once docked, we walk off and watch Stephen back the truck up across the shaky wooden ramps that loosely connected the boat to the shore. We quickly jumped in and took off. All the smells of any large city came into play and it was at that point that I realized in that regard, all cities are exactly the same no matter the country. We curved our way around through the one lane dimly lit city streets that would be considered alleys in any other place, until we finally reached our destination at the guest house.
We've enjoyed a nice long chat with Dr. Asher about the perils of western medicine and how that contrasts greatly with what we will see in Sierra Leone.
Tomorrow we will make the 5 hour drive "up country" to the village of Kamakwie and after all out talking and discussing I am excited to jump in and start forming my own opinions on healthcare and the kinds of changes, type of impact I want to have on what healthcare will become in the future. I can't wait to see how broad my vision becomes as my eyes are opened to so many new ways of thinking about the world.
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