Nataša's Freetown Encounters - Part 3 - Uncle Kalonko

Uncle Kalonko

It's my first night of nightclubbing in Freetown. We drive to Chez Nous, it's a meeting point, I am being introduced to some men by my friend. We roll down the car windows. One is »my uncle«, says my companion. »He has a buddha belly,« she says and stretches out her hand through the car window to give it a rub. It's a little bit provocative, but cute. She's like that all the time. We don't get out, we are already late so we move on.
Then we're off to Atlantic at the Lumley beach restaurant and night bar.

There are a lot of people there, many overdressed beautiful, and very young women, who have actually come to work. There are a lot of expats, and and some of them with the beautiful »working girls«. We stand in the middle. I feel a bit uncomfortable, exposed, self-conscious, unfamiliar. I stand straight. The Irish guy I came on the same flight noticed me, when I walked in with my friends, and came over with a vibrant »hi,« and extended arms, which patted me and hugged me, as if we were old friends. After all it was quite a rough flight, which connected all of us passengers, I guess. We tried to land twice in Monrovia, but not enough visibility, and then I don't want to mention the hovercraft journey as half of the people were sick, it was a windy summer night, in the rainy season. Yes, then we made a give-me-five gesture. We are both from Europe after all. Then he was off for more fun, more beer and company. It was Friday night, after all.

»Look at you, you've just come, and already you know people here,« laughs my companion. She is beautiful. Men literally drone around her, like bees on honey. It's not a coincidence, she plays with her predispositions, which she has been given in abundance, intellectually, and I watch her, and try to learn from her how to dress, how to express my femininity. Well, I am in a simple dress, black with white dots. I am not as bad as some young white volunteers in shorts and long t-shirt, and tewa sandals, who are having a good time nevertheless. No, I definitely don't want to look like them, I am in a dress. And I am older as well, I couldn't be like them, even if I wanted to.

I am being introduced. The usual questions arise. And explanations, where Slovenia is. Some men are good looking and fit, and some have the so called buddha bellies or borbor belles. Many of them know each other, Freetown is a small place. They are all proffesionals, businessmen, ingeneers, lawyers, and such.

I start chatting with one, he's a buddha belly guy, and quite short. Not that men here are tall. Soon he says: »So, how do you say you're beautiful in Slovenian?« he asks.
»Lepa si,« I answer. »Why do you ask?« I ask.
»Just interested,« he answers.
»Do you want to use it on me?« I ask. I am quite straight forward at times. And also not so inexperienced anymore.
»Well, yes,« he says. »We should go to Lakka this weekend together, to the beach, to have some grilled fish,« he says.
»Maybe,« I say. I smile. It's quite a usual proposal around here. But it's all just too transparent for me.

We soon move on to Old Skool, and there I dance with Patrick.