Heaven!? Give me mango!

The quickest way to make me happy is to put me in the back of a moving car with my iPod and cruise through rural Africa, any part of the continent will do. If you put my good friend next to me and five additional men in a little sedan for 4 hours, it may just make my week. That’s how I got back to Freetown from Bo with Evan the other day. What we would think of as 5 passenger vehicles, simply means we don’t have enough imagination. The cars in Sierra Leone are packed. When I arrived at the airport, we hopped in a cab and there were three of us in the back and a mildly confused Nigerian man in the front. He asked Evan why we weren’t going since the car was full and Evan said, “Oh no, they’re waiting for two more people. One up front with you and one in the back here.” Shocked, the Nigerian guy called over the taxi driver from the side of the road and asked him what we were waiting for. Naturally, the driver said, “Two more people. One up front with you and one in the back.” The Nigerian man ended up paying the $1 difference and we left for the ferry with some leg room to spare.

The trip back to Jimmi Bagbo this time was just wonderful. It was comfortable, I polished my four Mende words enough that I could be trusted to walk to the corner store alone, greeting people without embarrassing myself. Although, different from last time, is was hot. Stifling hot. If you were breathing, you were sweating. There was no way around it. It was like D.C. in the end of July without air conditioned buildings to duck into. Just damp. I took an average of three bucket baths a day. It was also mango season. Mangos were everywhere. Faiya climbed a tall tree for some, and people had long handmade stick tools to poke them from the trees. Everyone was eating mangos. It seemed as though Sierra Leone certainly had more mangos than they knew what to do with. Due to the abundance of one fruit, we spent an afternoon making mango chutney. It took awhile, but it was pretty delicious.

Evan working hard on his front porch to get the charcoal stove burnin'

Ibrahim liked to have his picture taken

Photo shoot with a few of the the frequent visitors

Every afternoon the humidity teased us into thinking it would rain. Then, on the last day in Jimmi, it finally did rain. Beautiful, clean, cooling African rain. Evan, Faiya and I stood outside and played frisbee for an hour and it was perfect. Evan’s porch was full of spectators (read: 20+ people) and the sunset was dramatic due to all the dark clouds and for a time no one was sweating, one might even goes as far to say it was cool outside.

the dramatic (rain-filled!) sky and the road leading up to Evan's house

Georgie at the bottom of the hill leading up to Evan's house

The three of us went on a bike ride the evening before. It’s too fun thrashing down dirt roads on nice, sturdy mountain bikes. There are palm trees everywhere and a handful of villages to stop in and say hello to. I also utilized my last opportunity for a motorcycle ride and went on a cruise with George (my grandfather’s namesake) and visited two nearby villages, one of which we got off the motorbike and went to tour the small pond, surrounded by thirty or so children. An elder in the village in the 1970s (or so) declared that if anyone that was born and raised in the village ate fish from the pond they would get leprosy, so naturally no one has tested that voodoo in 30+ years and the pond was full of big, edible fish I obviously had to see to believe. It was entertaining.

A few of the mornings I got up and walked to school with Evan so he could sign in (school was in session, but the kids hadn’t shown up yet). One morning we had sardines and bread for breakfast while we waited and I learned that I’m not a huge fan of fish before 8am. I hung out in a nice hammock a few times. I found some little puppies to swoon over. I got my hole-ridden (favorite) red jeans fixed at the tailor. I helped paint a flower box. I took a lot of film photos. We napped a lot. We tried to rig ways to stay cool. Evan’s grant to bring an internet class to Jimmi got accepted (<-- check it out). We cooked spaghetti. Everyone listened to the music tapes at night. We spent a night in Bo with Evan’s friend, Marty, eating chicken and having a few beers while watching ‘Who Wants to get Rich’.

My flight left at 4am, so the last night we splurged on chicken and chips and beer and an improvised beach bar across the road from the airport. I checked into the flight and we spent an hour sitting on the curb trying to entertain each other and stay awake while people slept on the sidewalks around us.

Earlier that day, on the ride back into Freetown, the Sierra Leone colors (blue, green and white) were painted on roads and rocks and trees, left over from the 50-years-of-independence-celebration and this was painted on a wall we drove by: Slavery lasted for a time, freedom is forever; and I thought it summed up the overall positive, sparky, passionate, friendly, happy people I met while having the privilege of visiting the country for a second time.

Now, it’s back to what I presume is reality. The people I miss has shifted as I’m now back in D.C., safe and sound and overwhelmed by all the choices (of everything!) available at Trader Joe’s. This particular jaunt to the beautiful African continent moved me significantly. I wouldn’t have traded the journey for all the bagel chips and cold cottage cheese in the world. The blog will stop till some other worth while adventure comes my way (Haiti in August?), but thanks a million for reading ya’ll, it meant a lot.