Nataša's Freetown Encounters – Part 1 - Scott

It was my first day of work in Freetown. It was rewarding, but I was exhausted. I just got off a poda poda at Murray Town junction and headed down the street towards home. I crossed the street, and bought a pineapple and a couple of mangoes. I wanted to eat fruit for dinner and also have a small treat for my family. I walked down the narrow pavement lined by small vendor stalls. Some vendors didn't have stalls, they only had plastic basins, full of fruit, or bread, fish or other provisions, and were sitting on the side of the street. I greeted those I knew. The side of the road by the narrow pavement was lined up by a row of waiting taxi cars. Some had doors open, some windows down.

Someone from the street called my name, from somewhere near the taxis. I turned around, my backpack hanging down one of my arms, a plastic bag full of books and the new one with a pineapple and two mangoes in my hands. I saw a young man with small dreads under a turned around cap, looking towards me. He had a nice face, the colour of milk chocolate, soft expression, and gentle eyes. There was a small earring in his left ear. My mind tried to place him into the right file of my memories, when and where did we get acquainted. I didn't know immediately who he was, but he definitely knew my name, pronounced it with a soft »sh«.

He looked, or so it seemed, so much as someone I met a couple of times when I was around last year. He waved, and I waved back. I stopped, and he came over to where I was standing.
»Is it you, Sammy?« I looked at him closely.
»No, it's me, Scott,« he saw I was confused. »Remember the first night at the hovercraft? How are you?«
»I'm fine, and how are you?« I asked, and really tried to figure out who he was.
»I'm fine,« he said. I realized he must had been the driver, who took me to my new homestay in the after midnight houirs of that first night. It was only him and the young Mohammed I met that night. But it was so dark, and I was dead tired, after that long, adventurous, and very delayed flight.
»So, what are you doing?« I asked.
»Well, I'm a driver,« he said, »so that's what I do most of the time,« he concluded.
»Yeah, sure. I'll se you around then, Scott,« I said, and we shook hands, before I set off.

After that I met Scott often, whenever he was standing at the taxi stop, we waved to each other, sometimes twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, and when I passed by we always shook hands.
...

One day I came by, we exchanged our usual greetings and then I asked him:
»If I wanted to charter a taxi, Scott, how much would that cost me? Let's say, if I wanted to go to Paddies at night?«
He looked at me, he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable.
»Give me as much as you can,« he finally said.
»No, Scott, just tell me what's the regular price.«
»Are we talking business here?« he asked.
»Yes, strictly business,« I said.
»Fifteen thousand leones per hour,« that's what would normally go to charter me,« he said.
»I'll take your number and call you, when I get to it,« I said.

I never really chartered him, needed him once, but couldn't reach him. Next time we already made arrangements, and then I got a lift. We still waved and shook hands, when I passed by.

I loved meeting Scott. He was just really nice.