Nataša's Sierra Leone Adventure – Part 2 – Goodbye Slovenia, Hello Sierra Leone

Telling people I was going to Sierra Leone made me quite a heroine here, you know. It definitely upgraded my status as a traveller and an adventurer. People asked: So this is one of your business trips? No? Watch out for the rebels, they may still be somewhere around. Bring me some diamonds. Did you see that film with Nicolas Cage starring? Isn't there a war going on there? What would you want to do there? Is there malaria, can you get a jab for that? Even a friend, who travels all over the world all the time, and lives in Burkina Faso on and off seemed to be a bit concerned. I was asking myself, so what is this now?

I still wanted to get some information about Sierra Leone before I left. It was too late to order books through Amazon about and from Sierra Leone. I checked out the many books dealing with the Sierra Leone history and war accounts, and nevertheless placed an order for Aminatta Forna's The Devil That Danced on the Water, but it arrived the day after I left. No guide books as far as I could find. I found an old 1996 West Africa Lonely Planet guide on my shelf which was completely useless. I photocopied the Sierra Leone pages from the updated 2002 one, which were by then quite outdated and scarce as well, but I saved them as they had some basic city maps, which seemed useful. So my main source of information were the internet sites, mainly the VSL one, and basically I guess I was ready to discover everything on my own.

I did want to know where I was sleeping the first night in Freetown as my flight arrived in the middle of the night. I did not want to spend too much money on fancy hotels, and I like to travel modestly, so the only place that was not expensive, and I could make a reservation for through e-mail, was YMCA hostel. I wrote to them, and in a couple of days they replied the room would be waiting for me, although they could not help me with the transportation to the hostel. I thought I would be able to handle with that once I arrived, and I was happy. I preferred to take the ferry, but left that open as well, would see once I arrived to Lungi. The hovercraft was broken then, and I am not too fond of helicopters, especially not the old and non-maintained ones.

I said my goodbyes to family and friends, and tried to make the least fuss possible, as usually I intend to come back home anyway. There was also a lot of work to be done until the very day of my departure, which kept me really busy. I was ready to leave, I had everything I needed, a Sierra Leonean visa stamp in my passport, enough money (read banknotes of dollars and euros) in my handbag, my digital camera, the new novel by Zadie Smith On Beauty to read on the flight, and give away later, and a few other necessary belongings.

I got to our lovely small Slovenian airport just beyond the sunny side of the Alps. I got myself on the lovely little Slovenian airplane which flew me to London Gatwick. Everything so small and cosy in Slovenia. You know half of the Slovenians on the flight, and even more of them seem to know you. I was definitely ready to leave. Just a month earlier I came back from Accra, Ghana where I stayed for less than a week, and now I was coming back West Africa, for a bit longer and, just a bit further West.

At the Slovenian customs I had to leave behind my beloved old pocket knife, as I forgot to check it into my baggage. I hoped at least someone was going to use it, I didn't want it to end in the garbage can. You have it, I said to the young Slovenian customs officer, this knife has got a history I added. His facial expression remained official, but his eyes were laughing.

London weather was absolutely rubbish, from a hot sunny day I came into a cold and drizzly city in my summer cloths. I put on everything I had to wear, it was depressing. I was wandering around with much time on me, dragging behind me my bag on wheels. You can't buy knives, and stuff like that at the airports. I took the path that connected the airport with the posh Sofitel. Right at the end of it, at the suburbs of the hotel, and at the beginning of the shiny spacious hotel hall, there was a small non-fancy souvenir shop with a little Indian sari clad lady shop assistant hidden in the corner behind the cashier. She was selling everything from sandwiches, snacks, umbrellas, scarves, British souvenir Queen Elisabeth kitsch to cosmetic stuff. I also found a knife. It was a really sharp silver no name knife in a box together with a pen, sold as a souvenir, for five pounds. I had to smile, this was my small victory. I packed it in my bag this time, to have it checked in. Then bought a plug travel adapter, forgot one at home, and packed it in as well. I felt better.

My, do people have a lot of luggage, was my thought while waiting in the long que for the Freeetown flight check-in. So many biggest suitcases I have seen, and a lot of opening up of them, due to weight regulations. People must be taking home a lot of presents. My bag seemed really small.

Transit areas at big airports, where you wait in between long journeys, are nowhere lands. On the way from home they make me feel empty and spaced out, on the way back just a necessary stop. This is where I always ask myself what the hell am I doing. Why didn't I just stay at home, and did things the easy, predictable way. Went to the seaside, like most people do for holidays in Slovenia. I wandered to the bookshops, and when it got really bad, I bought myself a duty-free perfume, Un Jardin sur le Nile. I knew it would help. A Garden Above the Nile, made in France, we live in a globalised world now. I guess I smelled greenly and fertile then, and as Africa, north-eastern part, but nevertheless. And I got to use my credit card one last time in the next few weeks. I found a soft leather seat in the waiting lounge, sank into it, and spent the remainder of the time reading Zadie's On Beauty and sending around SMS messages to those I knew would make them happy.

Getting on the flight I realized I was sitting next to a nice Sierra Leonean man who lives in Europe, and regularly comes back to Sierra Leone to do some business, and as he told me, he had also been in the sports proffesionally, and quite successful that is. Anyway, we immediately started chatting and laughing, and talked for six hours and a half. He also taught me a bit about the theory and the strategies of his sport, out of the book he was studying. It was all very interesting. The man said, he would help me with the transportation, and he seemed trustworthy.
Once we landed, he said, it's going to be a bit hectic now, but I thought, this is Africa, it's often a bit hectic as far as I can remember. What he meant, and I wasn't aware of, was that he was a bit of a celebrity, because of what he had done as a sportsman for Sierra Leone.
It started the moment we landed, and the plane door opened. All the airport workers wanted to shake his hand, hug him, and shouted his name. Many looked at me, and said, that's him, and told me his name, as if I didn't know. Some asked me, are you with him? I was thinking, my, where did I find this guy? He did not have to que at the customs, an extra member of staff ran to the booth and was more than willing to check his passport. On the other side, he waved to someone to help me through, and I did not have to que either, as an extra member of staff came to check my passport as well. I did not have to open my baggage, as I was with this man. So, coincidentally, I had a grand reception at Lungi, some people shook my hand too … It was good this man thought I was lonely and desolate enough to need his help. It was pitch dark outside and around midnight, our flight was also delayed. I didn't have a clue of any directions. Someone picked us up and we took the ferry. A lovely and romantic way to approach Freetown. And my bag was being carried all the time.