In my old English, seafaring home town of Bristol there is a timeworn cemetery called Arnos Vale.
When I was fortunate enough to visit the Caribbean in 2012 I ended up walking through Arnos Vale bay in Tobago. It was then that I realised I had actually visited all three corners of a shameful triangle, having spent a month in Freetown, Sierra Leone the year before.
Since the late 15th century the Portuguese, English, Dutch and French had all taken slaves from Sierra Leone, a convenient natural harbour in West Africa, transported them to the Americas and then returned to Europe with the fruits of their labour.
In 1492 the Portuguese explorer Pedro da Cinta named the formation of steep hills around Freetown harbour the Serra Lyoa (Lion Mountains). Freetown was formally christened in 1792 by the return of former slaves, as was ‘Libreville’ in Gabon.
When the 2015 Ebola outbreak occurred in Sierra Leone, I found myself heartbroken at some of the images being reported. I was reminded of the fantastic time I had there, and the warmth, humour, resilience, resourcefulness and pride of the people I met. Living in Freetown can be nails tough, but it’s also bright, vibrant and communal, with a lightness of heart and culture that the UK seems to be lacking these days.
I remember many things.
Such as being far up the River estuary, and hearing through the dead quiet afternoon the far away sound of a local island community singing and drumming, and their smiles and welcome as we approached.
I remember meeting lots of happy kids
and them taking the piss out of our adherence to hard hat safety as we tried to work.
Bumpy roads
and public services.... requiring a bit of investment.
So just a thought for the people of Freetown, who made me feel so welcome. You only seem to end up on the news when the shit is going down. However I know you better Sierra Leone, you are a fantastic place to visit. I’ve been back three times and the experience is seared into my brain.
Hopefully I’ll see you again soon. Take care.