My First Trip to Africa Sierra Leone Freetown Kono

I needed all the time to go to Africa. Like most Afro-Americans, I experienced childhood in a climate loving everything, Africa. When I arrived, I understand I didn’t knew anything about Africa. My maternal grandma clarified that all that Africa is ideal. Granny didn’t, notwithstanding, invest energy deriding the achievements of different societies.

Experiencing childhood in Nicaragua’s Latino and dark societies. Furthermore for me, there is no separating between these two identities. Latinos are blacks, and dark are Latinos. Yet, this isn’t so for every individual who tracks down favor with one gathering.

In Africa, these differentiations will amplify. Making a strange reality where a world class minority will treat other with unconcerned. Some of the time generalization can clarify things If it was simple as highly contrasting. Nonetheless, things are rarely dark or white.


The standard generalization can’t clarify Africa’s ethnic distinctions; most people’s look dull to me, however they’re contrasts; contrasts that return for quite a long time. The Sierra Leoneans asked me frequently, “are you Nigerian,” “American” or “Hausa,” those normally came up. Boss Morsay characterized Biko and me as “white.” He let us know that we are outsiders very much like individuals with white skin. His forefinger was scouring the highest point of his hand for accentuation. At the point when Afro-Americans do this in a discussion, we realize that it’s an impediment similar to “Whites Only.” “No doubt about it,” he said. In Africa, it is important where you come from, or from what side of the stream; on account of the Congo’s Bushong and the Lele ethnic gathering; what side of the waterway has an effect socially strategically and monetarily.

However, absolutely no part of that was at the forefront of my thoughts. I was eager to go to Africa. Connecting with my grandma’s Afrocentric convictions; I needed to see with my own eyes the greatness of the mainland that sent off civilization and all that makes us lovely: The melanin, the bends, cadence, the food. A rundown of safeguard component, my confidence used to battle the consistent deluge of American bigoted publicity, where everything is about shading, and dark is the shade that swoons all tones.


Thusly, prejudice is the focal point through which most Afro-Americans view the world. It’s anything but a twisting focal point; generally, the focal point is precise; albeit restricting. Zeroing in just on the one view. In our current reality where people track down heap of ways of isolating each other, bigotry makes this division conceivable.

Obviously the Belgians of King Leopold II acted in the most bigoted, cruel way towards individuals of the Congo. In any case Mobutu Sese Seko of the Ngbandi ethnic gathering captured Patrice Lumumba of the Tetela ethnic gathering. I don’t feel that identity was the reason for Mobutu Sese Seko offense towards Lumumba. Thomas Sankara and Blaise Compaoré, both are from the Mossi ethnic gathering of Burkina Faso. Be that as it may, very much like King Leopold II, insatiability was the justification behind Mobutu’s unfairness towards Patrice Lumumba and the annihilation of innumerable Congolese lives. Compaoré did likewise in Burkina Faso getting honors for a decision minority; keeping power to the detriment of Thomas Sankara and individuals of Burkina Faso. Utilizing defilement, confiscation even unfamiliar help to keep up with power. With no state to pay all due respects to, these men were the same than King Leopold II in the coldhearted treatment of their kinsmen.

In Sierra Leone, the (RUF) will execute something similar, removing appendages and advertisement methodical assault and murder; scattering thousands and oppressing the populace to separate precious stones for their privately invested money.


Be that as it may, destitution is something relative. Having experienced childhood in the Caribbean and Latin America. I was familiar with third world reality. In any case, absolutely no part of this pre-arranged me for Africa.


The volume on discussions goes up the nearer you get to the African takeoff relax. Things are immediate. Giggling fortified; the sucking of the teeth is clearly, the grins large.

The plane arrived in Lungi International air terminal to an extraordinary ensemble of cheers and adulations. Like a Hollywood liberation scene, Africans are glad and appreciative to be home. You can feel their energy. I also was energized, to welcome the African air. Getting out of the plane, I tracked down the mugginess natural. What was unique, was to investigate a group and seeing one shade of individuals of color. I did whatever it takes not to look astonished; I imagine I’ve been here previously. The Africans saw me like on the off chance that I’ve been here before as well.

The landing area and runway are colossal, similar to all air terminals. However, at Lungi you don’t see the transports, trucks or the strolling burrow shielding you from harsh climate. Everything is open and wide as the sky. I didn’t see business planes or business airplane; simply void landing area with a far away blue-green woods skyline focusing on no structures.

Strolling into the slight migration building was an amazement, no groups! I thought this odd for a worldwide air terminal. Some way or another, I figured they may be corresponding flights to the next piece of Africa. Just individuals who will load up on a similar plane in course to Liberia. Immediately as you enter the structure, you see a few old design desk areas with present day finger impression acknowledgment machines. Migration officials were simple and fast. They request identification and yellow immunization card. Welcome to Sierra Leone!

Individuals of Sierra Leone are well disposed; they are liberal with their usual range of familiarity. They welcome you, contact you delicately with a typical custom.

Hanging tight for our gear, I was drawn to two enormous, exceptionally noteworthy, standing wooden models. Two activity figures cut from a solitary tree trunk. Nobody paid these any psyche. Kente cloth They stroll by them like disturbance African trinket. I generally liked the scrupulousness of African craftsmanship; there is a thought for the watcher, the wearer, and treatment of curios. This relationship of inviting imaginatively with dance, surface, food and shadings was for me African expressions usefulness.

Albeit extremely amazing, I didn’t know at that point; those two wooden figures will address the finish of my African imaginative impression.

Leaving the air terminal, we see a sign with our names. Our host Chernor, we call him Cherry, orchestrate to have Lamin welcome us and organize the transport tickets that will take us to the ocean side and the ship to Freetown. Lamin works for an organization that helps voyagers to Sierra Leonne. Having somebody on the ground that speaks, Krio was quieting. Krio is a superior dealing language; trading cash is forceful, a few notes have inclinations. So there’s space for saving assuming you can deal in Krio.

Outside, they’re youngsters selling transport tickets alongside Sim Cards. They’re cutthroat, yet all at once not pushy. There’s heaps of money in sight constantly trading hands. We sit tight for the cool smaller than usual transports to load up with travelers. The ship isn’t far away, about a mile. Be that as it may, it requires around ten minutes drive to arrive. The street isn’t right; I felt that this being the way to the air terminal it very well may be in better consideration, however no. It was only the asking of the numerous instances of disregard and debasement that individuals of Sierra Leone live with everyday.

The ocean side is huge and clean; I notice this on the grounds that wherever else is by all accounts litter with garbage. I see a few unobtrusive hurriedly built shanties. I was searching for vivid fishing boats however didn’t see any. They’re little youngsters, playing with torn and messy western garments. They paid us no psyche. As of now the little wharf was brimming with the traveler from the plane, hanging tight for the ship; baggage and individuals under a wooden hovel, with a furnished watchman. We sat tight for quite a long time. It will be nightfall before they called our numbered tickets, the little ship made a few outings shipping us securely to Freetown.

The boat ride takes under an hour to cross the ocean estuary showing up in Freetown around evening time. The view was dim with no distinguishing elements to see. Inside, our host Cherry and his driver Mohamed are there pausing. They chose us from the group preceding anybody offers to help. Lamin had sent photographs. Cherry ensured that Mohamed gets our baggage. Cherry welcomed us with a major grin, shining eyes, on a splendid round cordial face. He promptly got some information about the flight and are we hungry. He said he has cook food home, “it very well may be excessively hot for us,” he said. So on the off chance that we like, we can go out to get some food. We decide on the fiery food; it was extremely late for our jetlag bodies to go out. The roads in Freetown, at evening time, are stuck loaded with merchants selling everything. None of it looks interesting to me. Freetown simply doesn’t look spotless. What’s more this is an amazement. A Big treat!

We left the wharf on a two-path cleared street lit with periodic streetlights. Mohamed is centered around his undertaking while Cherry communicates everything. I’m happy he is. The street continues to become busy the nearer you reach town. They’re loads of little youngsters out selling stuff, anything. I see loads of heat great and organic products. All that looks lease. Things feel bizarre, chronologically erroneous, a piece awkward, as in the event that I’ve turned back the clock. Individuals don’t appear to be stressed over the traffic. The road is swirling with African music. Furthermore individuals are simply moving with reason in seemingly a turbulent request.


We travel on cleared streets as far as possible up to College Road in Godrich. Then, at that point, we turn right. What’s more Mohamed eases back to a slither; the street now unpaved turns into a progression of slopes and ravines gradually paving the way to the following turns, similar to the transport ride from Lungi to the ocean side. There will be more minutes like this. Mohamed is making an effort not to have the lower part of the vehicle delay a slope, persistently he turns. Like assuming that he has done this heaps of time.