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July 5, 2007

My Journey to Freetown-Sierra Leone; the presidential entourage

Sitting on the plane to Sierra Leone (SL) was an experience that could take a lifetime. Every thought of the beautiful fluffs of cloud that crossed my mind as we coasted over the ocean was intermittently interrupted by the horrendous sound of the revving engine of the airplane. Not even my iPod on full blast could save me from the cacophony. Beyond those thoughts, my mind was pinned on so many questions to which I knew no answer. No one did! Would I miss my friends at the International airport in Sierra Leone? Would everything go as planned? How could I possibly be a better host to four Danish Citizens - around my age - three of whom had never been to Africa? Knowing myself, it was not so strange that negative thoughts came racing to my mind about everything - including the upcoming Presidential and Parliamentary elections to be held in August '07 - but somewhere deep down, optimism was striving hard to get the better of me. Not a bad idea at all.

I began my journey from Boston Logan on the 30th of June. Flew to New York, spent some time there and then flew in to London-Heathrow where I was to spend about 12 hours. Not so fast - I had come to London without a Transit visa. I was hoping that once I had booked my luggage in Boston, I would not have to handle it until I arrived safely in Lungi, Sierra Leone. However, little did it occur to me that American Airways and Kenya Airways do not have a luggage policy and I had to exit customs, get my luggage, sit with it for 12 hours and then check-in again. Well, I could not get out of customs without a visa but then I could not go on without my luggage. My predicament was not made light by the fact that there were tons of people rushing through Heathrow in the morning and a few hours before that, there had been the London Bomb scare and the Glasgow explosion. Only God knows what would happen.

Now, I do know what happened as well. I had a book that had been given to me as a gift from Ms. Ellie Nowak ('10) titled "The Power of One." Though it was a very interesting read on the plane and in the queue before boarding the plane, reading in the line on my way to customs was a different issue. As confident and lucky as I may be, this missing visa was going to be that straw that broke the camel's back. I knew it - so why not just concentrate on reading this lovely book and let the custom people send you on the next plane to New York? Well, there I was standing in front of the line - no more books to read, my heart pounding so hard, one could hear it from a meter away - looking around to see if there was any free counter.

Well, if my Danes went to Sierra Leone and I stayed in London, they could probably carry out the project without me. One of them had been a volunteer in a refugee camp in Tindouf, Algeria, the other had his own company as a high school student and the third, well, he was still in Denmark. My brother would come to the airport to pick them up, they would meet with the UNICEF Representative to Sierra Leone, the Chief of Sahn Malen village where our project would be and the district Medical Officer with whose team we are supposed to carry out the project. I had no doubt that without me the project would take place.

He held my passport, face straight. He flipped around for a fifth time. He was sure there must be a transit visa in that passport given that it was almost full with mostly British visas. With a disappointed face, he inquired, "When was the last time you visited London?" "Last summer, sir"- I replied with an even sterner face. "So how come you do not have a visa this time?" His colleagues knew that something was wrong - I had been there for like five minutes and my dreadlocks could not have been doing good at this point. He stepped up, they discussed something, another came over and they continued discussing. At this point, I was sure that I was going to lose my luggage and my friends would arrive in Freetown without me.

Thank God my brother would be at the airport to pick my friends up. However, something told me that if I was not there, they would not know what to do, especially if I was kept in custody until I boarded my next flight to the USA. The Arab-looking fellow at the counter gave me a strong look and said, with a gasp, "You see, we usually refuse people without visa entry into the UK and we send them home," - I know that, I snapped in my mind - " but today, given that you have a good travel record and you have a ticket that shows that you are continuing to Sierra Leone, I will grant you a 24-hour transit visa, next time you must secure one before traveling." It all sounded like a fairytale to me since I had just seen The Lion King on the plane to London. It wasn't. I walked away with a visa and did it briskly in case he had changed his mind. I collected my bags, gave a call to my uncle, and took the express train into Central London. Phew.

Twelve hours flew by and I was on my way to Nairobi in a rather circuitous itinerary. I stayed there for a while, got back on the plane, and stopped in Accra again. Well, if you are thinking that I have been traveling for over 48 hours now and I needed a treat, your thoughts are right. In Accra, we stayed on the plane for an hour and being in a plane whilst it was cleaned for boarding passengers was one of the worst things you can imagine - even worse than my experience at Heathrow airport. The entire wait paid dividends when it was announced that His Excellency the President of the Republic of Sierra Leone was joining us on our way home. I glued my head to the window to watch him give his final handshake to the President of Ghana before he hopped on the plane. I flew home feeling like part of the Presidential Entourage though I was way back in the Economy section of the plane. It really didn't matter to me - not everyone could fit into Business Class and I still felt like a part of the Entourage before slouching into my seat for the final two hours in such a humongous travel time.

At Lungi, I met my brother who came racing to give me a huge hug - it was a whole year since the last time I received one and being home was always going to be an emotional one. I took my luggage and thirty minutes later, Mathias Esmann (Princeton '11) and Morten Klein Holst (high school entrepreneur) had landed and I could not even imagine how I felt meeting them all there. I was beginning to think this was a dream before a not-so-nice mosquito bit me. It probably knew that I was in town with my friends to find ways of defeating it and the red, painful bite was not a great way to settle our dispute. I was ready for the war against mosquitoes and malaria and ideas kept bubbling into my mind like the waves splashing on the ferry that took us across the ocean into Freetown. I was finally home!