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In Sierra Leone you’ve got 3 choices. You can walk, take a Poda – Poda, or take a taxi. I’ve seen some folks on motorcycles ( but not too many), some folks in government / NGO / UN vehicles, and some folks on bicycles ( they aren’t very practical because the roads can be really really bumpy/unpaved ) but most people end up doing one of the three.
Naturally, we started off easy: taking taxis the first day or two ( with help of our servant team coordinator: Faye ). Taxi’s are just like ours, and you tell the driver where you want to go. I think the fare is negotiable depending on how far you’ve got to go. One way is 700 Leones, two way is 1400, and three way is 2100. One / two / three way refer to the distance the taxi travels, not whether it will come back to pick you up. The good thing about taxis is they’ll take you exactly where you’ve got to go. We’re told, in case of an emergency, jump in a taxi and tell em: 2 way to Abadeen / Murray town.
The cheaper way to go is to take a Poda Poda. They are little boxy vans with the seats stripped out and benches placed in there, so you can pack a whole bunch of people in. I think they use the same little vans in China: lunchboxes on wheels. Poda Podas run kind of like buses, picking up folks along the way and running routes to different landmarks. They basically run into and out of (down)town. Poda Podas are a two man show. ( I haven’t seen any women operators yet ) There’s: Driver (who drives obviously) and then there’s Apprentice ( who’s the apprentice obviously). The Apprentice is basically the set up man. He collects the money, tells the driver when to stop for people, loads / unloads luggage, and yells out the window where the Poda Poda is headed. He usually sits in the back cab (facing backwards) and sometimes he’s hanging out the window, trying to fill up the van. I wonder if Apprentices eventually become Drivers. It’s like Anakin becoming a Jedi (but in Sierra Leone). OK. Bad joke.
And then there’s walking. Everybody walks everywhere. It’s good. I feel like we’ve probably walked anywhere from 3 -7 miles a day so far, and it helps to get a better feel of what life is like for the majority of people here. Combining the heat and the distance, I end up sweating a lot. It’s like Atlanta ( but dryer ) but without the air conditioning. There’s some hard stuff about sticking out so badly. I’m a foreigner, and I’ve chosen to be here and I have to deal with it. I’ll write more about that some other time.
Today we grabbed a Poda Poda to get to (down)town. So there we were, 4 Americans (all white with a little yella mixed in (but how can you tell?)) squeezed into this little lunchbox. The guy next me asked me in broken English if I would pay for his transportation. I finally got it, and I laughed. I asked him if he would pay for mine. He didn’t laugh. I was wondering where this would go.
He asked me where I was from, and what I was doing in Sierra Leone. I kind of gave him a run down that I was here to learn about Sierra Leone, it’s culture, it’s people, and also to try to volunteer and serve people here. He ( and another lady ) were slightly intrigued. Then he started to ask me if I would help him get to America. He asked if he could have my address and if I’d help him to leave this country. I declined stating that we weren’t close friends, and that I’d consider a close friend, but not just a stranger. He persisted and asked me if we could become good friends. He asked me where I stayed, and what church I went to, and maybe he could become friends with the pastor we stayed with so then he could contact me. He told me about the war, and how there’s suffering and poverty in Sierra Leone, that his business of selling wheat isn’t any good.
It’s hard to express the tension, but it was there. Here’s this man who has lived and suffered from living in one of the poorest countries in the world all his life, and then there’s me: a person who’s lived and benefitted from living in the richest and most powerful country in the world. There we were, booty to booty, sitting next to each other on the way to (down)town.
“There are no jobs, no business, we are poor. You come to learn and help, why can’t you help me?”
“You get it?”
Yeah, I got it, but not really. My soul groaned.
I was sad for this man, but I knew that I couldn’t help him get the USA. I know the limits of my role here. I am here to learn, but at the same time, I am materially wealthy. I try to be simple and respectful of other people, but my own wealth can’t be hidden: by the color of my skin, by the clothes that I wear, by the shoes that I strapped on this morning. He looked over to another woman and chatted with her in front of me. She wasn’t rude, but she was really upfront. I kind of picked up what she was saying in Krio. I think I heard “ignorant” , “don’t know”, “american”.
I think she basically said that: as an American, I could not and would not ever understand the sadness of Sierra Leooneans. I would never understand that people here will do anything for more opportunities and a better life. I am ignorant to it: I can’t understand because I am rich. I can’t understand that people ( like this man ) would be so bold to ask me to help him get to the USA.
She’s right. I’ll never understand the depth of sadness that this war and these people have been through. This isn’t to pity anyone, but to say that I come from a background that is privileged and full of opportunities for luxury and affluence.
I am no hero. Not to put myself down or make myself better through false humility by denouncing my wealth, but it’s true, my American wealth felt like two elephants on my back. I could not and (maybe would never) be able to really understand the weight / sadness / despair that this man had. How do I express hope / dignity to someone else when I am so materially rich?
Blessed are the poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom…
So what do I do? Offer my address in guilt? Drop him a couple thousand Leones? Let him get to know me?
The Poda Poda comes to a stopping point and we all get out. The man says to me: “Goodbye then”, shakes my hand, and walks his way into town. I say goodbye, knowing that I’ll probably never see him again.
It was worth a shot to see if a very rich man from the richest country in the world could help out a very poor man from the poorest country in the world. Sadly enough, the rich man had nothing good to offer him, and they both walk away feeling poor.
Good morning Vietnam! Sierra Leone!
Just want you to know that da body good. I made it here to Sierra Leone, so thanks so much for wondering about me. So this’ll be kind of scattered and stuff because that’s basically how I feel. So bear with me.
I haven’t seen any beautiful elephants yet, but it is really beautiful here. I can see the water from where I am staying, and the place we are staying at is a good space. I’m grateful for that. I’ll be staying downstairs with a married couple while Matt and Micah are upstairs with Pastor Zizer’s family. Michelle is staying with Faye and Cami a little ways away. We stayed there last night. It was hot-hot-hot and last night was a bit humid. It reminds me a bit of Hotlanta, minus the air conditioning I guess. Sorry if you’re freezing where you’re at… I’m burnin up over here.
We’re kind of orienting over here for the first couple weeks. I guess just learning how to live here. There’s a lot to adjust to, and I’m already starting to feel that strain. I’m getting a better sense of being a foreigner or being from another place. I have a lot of respect for the folks on staff here, and for anyone that’s living in a foreign land.
OK, I just wanted to say I’m OK. I feel like I need to sit and process by myself first before I share more with ya. Miss ya!
Hey there. I can’t believe I’m still up. I’m gonna sleep like a turkey on tryptophan. I’m gonna eat like a hippo in the bayou. I’m not making sense. I’m tired. Basically, I’ve been running around all day trying to get stuff done and packed into Micah You’s superduper backpack.
Okay, let’s try a bit harder.
Seriously though. Thanks for your emails and notes and calls and encouragements. Thanks for still wanting to hang out with me even though I’m late or cutting out to see some other people. Yikes! I’ll miss yall much, and I’m hopeful about all of this. It feels daunting, but I think that’s the taste of stepping into new things.
And it’s time to go to…
Well, I’ve only got a couple more days to go until I leave. I wrote my last entry into my old journal today. And here I go with this new one.
Today’s word of the day is: yikes.
It’s not too bad, I’ve gotten a bunch of stuff squared away. I just need to pack this bag of mine and finish off some loose ends. It’s coming along.
It’s been a good weekend. (And a good couple weeks to boot) I feel real encouraged, and blessed by my community here, and also my community of friends who aren’t here in Oakland. My soul lifted up on Friday night when folks came through to send me off with prayers and affirming encouragements. Yeah, I was celebrated, and I’m so grateful to have been loved in that way. It’s such a deep joy to receive other people’s grattitude.
Wingate showed up at the party and I was totally grateful to see him come even though he isn’t part of my church community. (It’s totally daunting to be the only stranger) He said something really profound when we left: Those prayers were real deep and amazing. Your church really loves you.
Sunday was a continuation of that spirit, with our cell group splitting into two groups, and also for me leaving for Africa. Change can be bittersweet. There’s the exciting sense of new things to come. There’s also the sadness that things won’t be as they were. I tasted a little bit of the lemon and the orange.
So thanks for loving me and considering me.
