Bakie, who I always saw in wonderful African print dresses, changed into an SLPP casual wear, trousers, SLPP T-shirt in green white print, an SLPP visor cap, and a black raincoat.
We got into the car, Bakie, me with a camera, Sahr, and Hamid. They were all SLPP supporters of course. Bakie was driving. As soon as we managed to conquer the steep incline of the rough road with our small Japanese car to join the main one, we got into a traffic jam. People, SLPP supporters were all heading to the National Stadium.
Bakie said, »We'll have a look at the coming in, and then we'll go to the Aquapark to attend a birthday celebration of a friend«.
»Everything is fine with me,« I answered. I was just a guest, a newcomer, a foreigner, all in one.
We stood at the entrance of the National Stadium, and watched the crowds coming. It was drizzling. People were walking by, they were chanting, singing, marching, blowing horns, waving and dancing. They were singing »Solo B, Solo B di bomba«, and other slogans.
We just got there on time. They were gathered, and a lady was giving a talk to honour the boy, and the God, for getting him to where he was. The boy was clearly uncomfortable, getting all the attention, and you could see he couldn't wait for it to be over. His mother stood next to him, his younger brother was somewhere in the crowd.
»Where is the father?« I asked.
»He died last year,« Bakie said. »They called her at work, because he was not feeling well, he was sick, and by the time she came, he was gone.«
»A stroke, » I thought. »What a shame.«
»I was the bestwoman at the wedding,« Bakie said. »I introduced them. There is the boy's younger brother,« she pointed towards a lively boy of an age of five.
Then we got back to the car, returning to the SLPP rally, our stomachs full.
»This is where we thought you were going to live at first,« said Bakie, when we drove back. It was a nice house very near the Aqua park.
»It would be nice,« I said. »But it's really nice to be with you as well,« I added. I was still surprised to see such nice houses on streets, that would in my country lead to nowhere. Mud, holes, barely drivable.
We got to the tribune, we passed a large group of child beggars in wheelchairs, with crutches. We got to one of the entrances, where most of the important SLPP people were sitting. Sitting up there we met some SLPP politicians, who walked around and shook hands with people, also with Bakie, and me, as I was with her. The audience in that part was filling up the space, but in the whole stadium it seemed scarce. People were trickling in, but not in large hoards. I was expecting a bigger turnout. I wanted to go back out and get some chewing gum. That seemed to be a problem. Bakie asked Hamid to come with me. The door to that section was by that time guarded by several big and strong guards, to keep newcomers out, this secton was then full. They let us out, and Hamid talked to them to let us back in later on.
»I am white so they will remember me«, I thought.
We had to walk out of the stadium to one of the stalls outside. I bought some Black diamond mint candies, and Chicklet chewing gum. I figured the evening was yet to be long, and I had a bad breath.
The stadium looked like an old socialist building. The toilets smelled badly when we got back.It must had been around 6.00 p.m. The programme hadn't started yet. There were some honda drivers, who managed to get into the stadium field, and started driving in circles of the running track, while performing some acrobatic moves, legs up, or standing up on the motorbike. This was not an organised programme but an improvised one. It gave some pleasure to the waiting and bored spectators. The police nevertheless tried to stop them, but not with much success, until one of them fell, when a policewoman stopped them by literally getting in his way.
There was an improvised wooden stage, and several singers followed each other to sing on a playback. It finally got dark, and it seemed the official part was about to start some time soon. There was a reporter somewhere not far from where I was sitting, with a cameraman, writing something into his notebook, and waiting just as patiently as us.
Finally some cars with the politicians started driving into the arena of the stadium, they honked and turned on the blares, the supporters cheered, the cars made a circle around and stopped. Many supporters ran into the field. It seemed to be a problem, they had to get them out, to start the programme, but the police didn't seem to be in control of the situation, and quite some of the bold supporters were a bit drunk by then. They just made them run from one part of the stadium to the other. It was around 8.p.m., when I finally gave up. The official programme with speeches had still not started. Waiting for me became too tedious. I was just an onlooker. I left with Sahr.
We got to the main street from the stadium, and caught a shared taxi. It was not easy, there were a lot of us, Sahr used me to get us in. I was white and a woman. Then he squeezed himself into the full taxi as well. We talked a bit, I felt safe with Sahr, he took good care of me. He was a salesman traveling around Sierra Leone, selling herb medicine for some company. He said »I am going to buy you a necklace to go with your bracelets«, but he never did. I actually saw him only once again on another occasion. He was on his business trips most of his time.
When we got back home, we went to watch a Nigerian film in the living room with the rest of the extended family, who took all the places on the sofas, and chairs around, and the floor. I fell asleep in the chair with my head on the dining table, and later drunken from sleep shuffled into my beloved queen bedded room, mumbling »Good night« to everyone. It was a long day.
1 comment:
How interesting. Have you been to an APC meeting as well?
Post a Comment