Goodbye Freetown

It's that bittersweet time again.  Another field service is coming to a close.  Sierra Leone, specifically the city of Freetown and its residents, have, seemingly without our acute awareness, grown to be a part of who we are.  This is true in spite of (or perhaps largely because) this field service has been a difficult one fraught with hardships and challenges.  I seem to add a new item to the 'if it can go wrong it will' list daily. 

Nearly ten months ago we were wading and struggling through the quagmire of emotions elicited by the tragedy and mess that was the first screening.  I certainly can't sum that up here.  If you haven't already, please read the previous post 'Shattered' for some background.  Not long after that came 'Redemption' at the second screening, which was as beautiful as the first was gruesome. 

So much has happened in between; so many phenomenal people, so much work, so many relationships built, so many people gone, so many problems solved, so many left to tackle, so many forays into the beautiful mess that is Freetown.  It's so strange to feel that I could write three blogs for each day and not even scratch the surface of our experience and at the same time be constantly at such a loss for what to say.  How do you communicate a smell, the unique feelings of common experience that is ever so uncommon, the bond forged through shared adversity?  I'm sure it can be (and has been) done but not by someone of my limited literary ability. 

We have spent so much time in West Africa that our souls have become enmeshed with the people and culture here.  I pushed Xavier in his stroller for a walk yesterday just 'up the street'.  Our jaunt involved copious amounts of Deet laden mosquito repellent to prevent malaria, a walk down a ships gangway onto a rat infested dock, a bumpy stroll out of the dilapidated port gate onto a narrow road made even more so by the cornucopia of container trucks in various states of disrepair, many of which had people sleeping underneath them on mats or homemade hammocks.  We then proceeded up 'Bad Boy Lane' where we were greeted (to the unaccustomed, accosted would probably feel like a better description, although not so for us anymore) by lots of people touching us, shaking our hands, patting Xavier's head, and calling "white boy, white boy, why don't you walk (translation of the Krio version that we hear)?" as three years old is well past the cultural threshhold of being expected to walk unaided in busy, crowded streets.  We got to the top and turned onto Fourah Bay Road, a cacophany of smells, sounds, and colors there to greet us.  We joined the throng of people going about their evening business and thoroughly enjoyed our stroll down a road where 18 inches of clearance between you and the cars that are passing is considered a big gap, public urination is socially acceptable, and having your head on a swivel to be aware of your surroundings is par for the course. 

We will miss so much about this place and her people. 
In the mean time there is still much to be done to finish preparations for sailing.  And then there's the sail - one of our favorite parts of serving on the Africa Mercy.  After that, a couple of weeks in Ghana and then on to Togo for our next six months of adventure.