Freetown — I am compelled to write this light-hearted piece in an effort to have some respite. The point is, since I visited Sierra Leone (Salone) sometime in September, many compatriots, friends and colleagues keep asking me the same questions - "How Salone?

Well, you may agree with me that the simple question "How Salone?" is very difficult to answer. However, I will attempt to share with you my experience. After some months away from my motherland with a strong feeling of nostalgia, I was naturally very much excited at the thought of visiting the land of my birth. In fact, for the next few days, I found myself always chanting the Nigerian artist, Edna Eguli's Home Sweet Home song. Travelling back home was quite refreshing. And when I finally crossed over the Mano river bridge from Liberia and touched my feet on Sierra Leonean soil, I took some of it (soil) in my hands and said: "Sierra Leone, I love you!" I then headed straight to Kenema. The least said about the deplorable road condition from the border to Kenema and the way the police behave at the border and on the road, the better.

After about a week in the country, I decided that it was time I visited Freetown. On Monday, September 11, I arrived in the city to discover that almost everything had completely changed. In a flash, I thought these were the signs of elections when the big guys would usually do their very best to quickly tidy up a few things at the eleventh hour before some hungry voters are given few cups of rice and told to go to the polls. You see, I discovered upon my arrival that the usual traffic jams in Freetown had disappeared. Our vehicle drove along the streets with ease and people including pregnant women and school children, mostly in worn-out uniforms, on the first day on the reopening of school for the academic year, appeared to be either waving, or desperately trying to stop our "up-line" vehicle. I saw people in their Chinese numbers, out on the streets walking, drenched in sweat and hungry looking. It was reminiscent of the days when Sierra Leone stood out for hacking of limbs, and when tired legs were married to walking, dubbed "abu blacking".

At the city centre, PZ, I alighted the vehicle with my luggage. How do I go home? I pondered. Please don't misunderstand me. It wasn't that I had forgotten my way, but the streets were free of taxis and 'poda podas', except for few private cars, one or two heavily over-loaded government buses and the guys in blue- the police. Incidentally, the police were the reason for no public transport on the roads. The drivers said police harassment and illegal extortion should be written in the Guinness book of records.

On that day, the drivers were "meeting" on how to deal with the naked corruption of the police. Mind you, it was not a strike action. But wait a minute! Is the Sierra Leone police not a force for good? Or, could it be that the true meaning of force for good is a force for good extortion and harassment? Talking about things as I saw them, this was how your city, my city and our city (apologies my good friend, professor Septimus Kaikai) welcomed me. As a young man, I could walk, no problem. But what about some passengers including pregnant women and nursing mothers with bundles, some of whom were visiting the city for the first time armed with papers instructing them where to board a 'poda poda' and where to alight. For those people, Freetown was hell on earth. By the way, if any one had told me that I will go and meet a paralyzed Freetown and will walk like crazy, I would have referred the person for psychiatric assistance. And if anyone had told me that I will go and find the same old blackout, water wahala, same old corruption etc, I would have labelled the person as a fool and an anti-government crusader.

Walking along the streets of "filthy Freetown" (courtesy Umaru Fofana), my eyes could not avoid seeing new things, I mean new mountains of rubbish in public places plus the same old heaps of terribly foul smelling garbage near places where food was either sold or was being prepared. Freetown garbage looks like a volcano threatening to erupt into an outbreak.

No hyperbole!

After a tiresome day, at night, I went to rest. But the social reality was that I had to contend with the irritating sounds of tiger generators aptly nicknamed Kabba tiger by city residents. Added to the generator noise was the annoying buzzing of mosquitoes that had predilection for the ears. Unable to sleep, I took panadols and reflected on the journey that morning from Kenema to Freetown. It was as early as 3am, when I braved the dark and headed to the lorry park. By the time I arrived minutes later, three public transports including the Abess transport had already left. I was soon to find out why vehicles leave at that ungodly hour for Freetown. Bad road. While the Bo- Kenema road is fairly ok, it was a harrowing experience traveling from Bo to Masiaka. Between Bo and Taiama was like traveling in a diamond mining field. A sea of potholes akin to diamond pits stretched several miles ahead. There was no escape.

The vehicle shook violently. Passengers screamed in agony as we bounced in and out of the pits with shouts of Allah o Akbar and Jesus Christ!

The road from Freetown to Kenema remains passengers' most feared and despised. I however gathered that road rehabilitation work will start soon. And 24 hours electricity? Soon. Safe drinking water? Soon. All other good things? Soon. How soon is soon? Hm your guess is as good as mine. One common thing that our compatriots told me was that times were tough. Cost of living is high, the standard of living is very low and unemployment is surging. "Look, man dem nor gladi ooh!" some people summarized the situation.

Before I left the shores of my motherland again, I reflected on our rich natural resources and then I thought about the big greedy guys, the so-called 'borbor bellehs' driving in posh cars in a filthy city. And at night, they put on their generators to disturb the peaceful night rests of the poor. I thought about 2007 when politicians will go again to the potential voters with sugar-coated vibes. Thinking and thinking, tears filled in my eyes and I wept for my beloved country. So, if you asked me, "How Salone?" - this was my experience. May God help our native land! Amen.