Morning became a routine already. Out by just before 11am, chatted with the tourism men who are here again. Breakfast a stew green with rice at Jeska Mac, off on a moto to Nigerian Embassy.
As I walked in I saw two young men, possibly Nigerians, entering the compound and snapping photos all around. Photos I asked for and was denied by the security! I’ll take my revenge when I’m out.
There is a new receptionist and he asks me me why I’m here. Visa interview. The nun who was here with me yesterday, is already here. She’s from America. Today the waiting room is full. We are watching the news and sigh at the state of the world. Ethiopian crash, cyclone in Mozambique, a strongman’s march on to Tripoli. “Everywhere problems” one of the young Nigerians says.
I am soon called for the interview upstairs. I have to leave my bag and phone with the receptionist. I am shown intona room, inside a young handsome man in Muslim robes sits by the table, AC switched on to the point of being cold, TV blasting. He turns down the TV a bit.
The interview lasted maybe 10 minutes. Why are you going to Nigeria? To visit friends. Where will you be in Nigeria? I list Lagos, Oshogbo, Abeokuta, Benin City. I skip Calabar, better not mention too remote places. I say how I’ve been to Nigeria before and wanna visit it again. I am told I speak like Nigerian. And then I’m told visa will be ready by Monday. When I ask if I can possibly get it today (Friday) the answer is firm “no.” The man says the processing time is 2 weeks and it’s only because I asked for a fast track that I’ll be able to get it on Monday. What to do? I say yes and thank you and goodbye.
Downstairs I collect my bag and phone while the receptionist receives a phone call. He then tells me tongo back to waiting room and wait. My hopes are rising.
I wait maybe 40 minutes. In the meantime the nun goes in and goes out with her visa in hand. Soon Bolaji, the man handling the waiting people and their visa problems comes with an envelope and the passport with visa in it. Yes! Inside the envelope a receipt for the $100 I paid to the bank. No mention of the 500k leones I brought in cash.
I got very happy. I can leave Freetown! But when? Saturday afternoon after the cleaning curfew is over? Or Sunday morning? Such things are best to be thought over at coffee, or even better at beer. But first things first, I wanna check out the Ivorian Consulate that seems to exist in Freetown. Bradt Guide mentions such honorary consulates but also indicates that they may not be issuing visas. I want to try Ivory Coast so maybe I don’t have to stay in Monrovia for long and my road will be smoother. I also got used to SLARI Guesthouse and Lumley life and got quite comfortable with it.
At the roadside it’s a while before any transport – car, tuktuk called keke here, moto – will show up. Then, a 4wd car pulls over and asks if anyone wants to go to town. And people get in. And I also get in. The car is driven by an elderly lady, who seems to know everyone. And I assume it’s a paid service until people get off the car… without paying! Ah, so the previous day the elderly man in his 4wd wasn’t a solo event! The woman behind the wheel drives around for a bit, dropping and picking up packages. With her massive car she drives through tight marketplace streets, stops, right in the middle, blocking everyone around.
I get dropped in front of 1 Wesley Street, where the consulate is supposed to be. There is Ivorian flag but otherwise no sign. I ask a man outside and yes, it’s here and yes, they give out visas. We enter a room. And ah, Ivorian visa in Freetown is how all visas should be. It’s $70 for 3 months. The man says 2 working days. I ask if perhaps we can do it one day. He says OK and we do it onsite. 2 passport photos, application form, leones accepted at 8900le to a dollar. I was lucky that I even had enough to pay the 620,000le, I didn’t expect this. And the man starts talking when I tell him what I did in Abidjan in the past, when will I invite him to Poland, maybe his child could get a scholarship, how about a new phone? Oh dear. I leave him my email address so he can bug me for the invitation and I leave the building.
It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster with all the Nigerian visa. But now I’m in much better mood and I need beer but also since I’m in town, a coffee! Now I have smooth sailing with visas all the way to Ghana and even Togo!
I pass by Access Bank ATM, to replenish my leones. So far only GT Bank ATM didn’t accept my Visa card and UBA warned that it will charge me, 15,000le for withdrawal of 300,000le.
Somehow Crown Bakery gave me a sign it’s time to leave. Turkish coffee “is finished”. Sounds a bit like they were tired of me drinking only coffee and not eating any of their $15 plates but so it was. I left, went back to the bus station and yes, the busses will leave Saturday after the cleaning curfew is over at noon, or on Sunday at 7am (security the previous day said 6:30am).
There is a bar among the ministries. Or I thought it’s a bar but it’s really a bench or two where a woman sells beers out of a cooler. Good enough for me. I take Star and Mützig. I check out Tiwai Island in the guidebook and try to call them and ask if there is accommodation – their website says there isn’t – but noone answers.
It’s a bit of traffic back to Lumley. I catch a keke to Congo Cross for 5,000le then another keke that goes to Aberdeen and hears Aberdeen when I say Lumley. When I realise we go wrong way, the man lets me go without payment.
Finally in Lumley by car, I’m back in the guesthouse. The tourism men are there, I give them the visa story and tell them about transport. They say I will not be able to get on the government bus, the one that leaves from town. That there will be so many people and that I should have bought a ticket today. But all ticket counters were closed! That there will be so much traffic tomorrow after the cleaning curfew is over that getting to town will be a nightmare. Which I agree with. I even wonder how the busses will leave if it will take people time to reach the bus station after the curfew expires at noon. The men suggest I take a minibus to Jui on the Eastern outskirts and that’s where I’ll be able to catch any transport going to Bo. The minibuses leave from a station just across the road from here. I’ll do that.
All that curfew talk, I have to get up again and go search for money. The Tiwai Island phone finally answers, sounds like South African accent, yes they do have accommodation, it’s $30 breakfast included. I ask for reservation, he asks for SMS, which he will forward to the person responsible and I’ll be contacted. Fine.
I have 900,000le on me, I need about 250,000le more to survive the next 3 days before I reach Liberia. I go to Ecobank ATM at the Lumley roundabout. It’s empty. This is common in countries with low banknote denominations, Sierra Leone’s highest note is just a bit above a dollar (10,000le) and to take out $100 in cash you need 100 notes and ATMs will spit out 30-40 notes at once max and they soon run out of money.
I walk up to Zenith Bank, 2 ATMs, both empty. I walk up again to Ecobank, 2 ATMs, one empty, another gives out money. Sweet cash.
I walk back to Lumley roundabout, take car towards the beach. The tourism men in the guesthouse told me I can find roasted fish at the beach behind a place called China Town, on the beach road. Even the driver doesn’t know where China Town is but it’s there: China Town Guest House. I get our of the car, there is nothing fish-related around, maybe I’m too early. I decide to walk on the beach.
While walking, I get attacked by a dog. The dogs here, they all look the same, sometimes run up to people but mainly for food or to play. This one attacks from behind and if I didn’t hear a weird sound behind me, it would have bitten me. And even when I turn around and it runs away it still bears its teeth and tries to run towards me. And then it just stops and runs away to other dogs. Crazy. Some men ask me if I’m okay and apologise for the dog.
I walk on towards the end of the beach, where an unfinished Hilton dominates the skyline. I get approached by a man telling me how they all take care of the beach and then he offers all kinds of psychoactive substances.
Later on I sit in a bar that seems full of local people – a man sits next to me in a very colourful African outfit (men wear them too but not much, it’s more common in Togo & Benin), his name is Rashid. We chat, exchange numbers and he leaves for evening prayer. Another man sits at my table, his name Alpha Ba, he is from Guinea and he says he trades diamonds. He wanted to take a photo of me being attacked by a dog and post it on Facebook: “white man attacked by an African dog”. Not sure how the diamond business is going, he says he inherited it from his father, because at one point he says he is looking for job. Also, he takes my number and as soon as he repairs his broken smartphone of course he will chat me up.
I go on, it’s already dark. I see roasted fish. Without thinking I order one. 35,000le with chips and salad, not bad. I only ask for no ketchup or mayonnaise in the salad but that means the salad is dry. A woman sits next to me. Her name is Aisha. She leaves me when I’m eating but comes back. She likes white men and she is looking for a boyfriend. She wants to give me her phone number so that when I’m back in Europe we can communicate. In the same joint I also meet Morgan, who may have been a bit stoned and all he asks me is to remember the name Morgan. I do remember his name. I also meet the owner of the joint, she didn’t give her name but her looks were quite easy to remember: lots of tattoos, earrings and pink hair. She had a look of strong woman.
I take car back to Lumley. I go to redress my knee scratch. My pharmacist nurse is there. I go to the back of the pharmacy, where there is a man watching constantly 4 security cameras (!) – and the pharmacy is really small, the back counter very tight and even without light and there is a young couple sitting there and at first sight to me they look like lovers because they sit very close to each other but I notice that the woman has a drip I her hand and attached to a bag of liquid hanging above. They are running there a full hospital! Now I understand what the whole cupboard of drip bottles and bags is doing there in the back.
Soon I enter and the man changes the wound gauze and tells me if I took antibiotics the wound would heal faster – and gives me a bit of cotton wool and a violet liquid that I remember we used to use when I was a child on such knee scratches. Tells me to apply it after 2 days. He also gets more talkative and we of course end up talking about who’s married and who has kids and why. He isn’t married but has two kids.
On my way from pharmacy I stop at a barber to remove a particularly annoying hair from my ears. I ended up cutting my hair and shortening the beard. I ended up paying a whopping 30,000le, which I considered a rip off but I didn’t say anything.
The evening was very cool, there was a breeze and sometimes a strongish wind blowing throughout. Tomorrow I’m back on the road, insha’Allah.
Coming back to Maman 