Nataša's Sierra Leone Adventure - Part 15 – Back to Freetown

I was coming back to Freetown. My journey in Sierra Leone was coming to an end. And I wanted to spend another couple of days enjoying city life, and doing some shopping at the markets. I called several times from the provinces to make a reservation, I checked the Place Guest House for a couple of days. I could not make the reservation in advance, the place was full, and they didn't know when the guests were leaving. My only concern was not to get the room number 14. After a few calls they definitely knew my wishes, as I got the best room in this hotel. It was called an AC room, a big and self-contained double, but once I checked in I found out the AC didn't work. I first tried to complain about my AC condition, as I thought I was paying for that, and the lady receptionist explained it as something quite obvious, it would not work unless there was the government electricity. I wasn't staying long enough to be able to experience that. But my room had an efficient fan as well to get me through the non-AC situation. Through my toilet window I had a view of some young men labouring on the wall of the hall on the other side, knocking it down or doing some serious changes, with their heads right at the window level. I tried to cover it with a shawl, when I used it, not always very successfully. Once I had one of those boys come and knock at my door while I had a shower, and came opening the door wrapped into my lappa dripping wet. He had absolutely no reason to come. But I liked my room nevertheless, and despite being the most expensive one in the hotel, it was, at 50.000 leones per night, still reasonably priced. My windows looked at the balcony, I could observe Guniean and Sierra Leonean businessmen use it as an office. They spread out their papers next to their cell phones on small cofee tables, sat on the plastic chairs, and worked. Sometimes they just sat there and watched the life below. There were some long term tenants at The Place Guest House as well, some students. I loved staying there.

Sitting on the balcony of my hotel was a great place to observe life below. Sometimes I just concentrated on the way people walked, moving their hips, and throwing their legs in a relaxed way. Sometimes I watched women's styles, the beautiful materials their dresses were made of, and different tailor made designs of their tops and skirts, differently braided hair styles. Sometime I watched how children toddled along their parents. Sometimes I watched what people were carrying on their heads and in their bundles. Sometimes I watched cars stop below, people get out, and people get in. Sometimes I watched the money exchange traders sitting idly or counting money. So many small stories, if you watch. I was not the only observer. This privilege was not reserved for newcomers. A lot of people sat on balconies to watch life below. At our hotel, across the street, on other streets. You just had to look up to see them.

There was a boy, who was selling coconuts in a wheelbarrow at the corner of Rawdon Street under Sylvia Blyden internet caffe. I watched him as well. His wheelbarrow was standing on the road, big cars passing just inches away. He would come in the late morning with the wheelbarrow full of coconuts, and stay until evening. He was wearing a football shirt, and beach shorts, and sometimes he would wear a knitted cap. If you wanted a coconut, he would cut the top off with the machete, and you would drink the milky liquid on spot. Then you would get the sliver of fresh slimy refreshing meat off his machete. Coconut drink is a good prevention against malaria they say. After that he would throw the shell onto a growing pile behind him. You paid him in silver 100 leone coins, which he would drop into his pocket or with a worn out 1000 leone note, which would make him slip into your palm a few of those coins.

One day I was at the first floor internet caffee across my hotel doing my mail, when we suddenly heard some crackling sound followed with outbursts of lightning. It was as if there were some fire rockets going off. We ran to the balcony to see what was going on. And then there was more and actual little fireworks did go off on the busy Rawdon street. But not on purpose. There was a huge truck trying to make its way up the narrow and overparked Rawdon street. The driver was so busy looking out not to drive over people or their belongings at the side of the road, and not to smash other cars at parked at the sides, that he forgot to look up. The truck was too high for the electric wires hanging loosely above and across from the houses on one side of the street to the other. The wires were mildly said a mess, and I am sure after that electric circuit they needed some serious work if those houses wanted to see electricity again. When the damadge was done, and fortunately noone was killed, there must have been a lot of electricity in the air. And the truck was stuck. There was no way back and many more wires further up the street. After a while the truck started moving slowly forward, this time with two young boys on its top, who were lifting the electric wires with long wooden poles, to help the truck move on. It didn't seem a very safe way to do it to me, I was truly worried for those boys. Many of us were hanging on the balconies, on the windows or down on the street, and watching the spectacle. How much damadge was done, I don't know. The life seemed to resume normally, after the truck left. People in Freetown are used to live without electricity anyway, especially if we are talking about the government one.


One reason why I loved living on Rawdon street were the music vendors. I became friends with the boys who sold on the streets just around the corner. They had big stacks of illegaly burned cds, dvds, and videos. While I was living on Rawdon Street, I stopped there at least once a day, even after I bought my supply of Sierra Leonean music. We talked about the music with the young sellers, and they would put in cds for me. We would listen, and they would also sing to the most popular tunes. They knew many of them by heart. My and also their favourite at the time was Laurish's big hit from the Boduguard, it was on everywhere, and all the time in Sierra Leone. I was also a fan of Pupah Bajah. I bought a lot of other cds and videos as well, for a Sierra Leonean party night in my country. I didn't buy any gospel music though, it was not my taste.

Some of the streets in town were divided into different sections for selling things. I loved the streets where they sold used shoes. I love shoes, and they were everywhere, on the street, spread on a sheet, on the cars, some bigger vendors even had ready made shelves. I leisurely strolled down the street, and when I saw a nice pair, I just had to take off my flip flops, and try the shoes on. Eventually I bought myself two pairs. My problem was, there was no mirror, so I couldn't see how I looked in them. But then the men vendors helped me with that, they got really involved. For the better ones they put their fingers up, and made nice expressions. For the ones I later bought, they kissed their fingers, and told me to just walk off, I could leave the flip flops in the plastic bag forever, if it was for them. I definitely needed something that made me feel like a woman, I was wearing my flip flops for too long then. I only had to bargain hard then and the shoes were mine.