By Dr Ishmail Pamsm-Conteh
Over this past weekend, I had an interesting telephone conversation with my dear friend, Dr. Joe Ansu Tucker (aka Posh). We started with small talk about the UK weather and how Covid-19 has turned the whole world upside down.
Ansu and I have come a long way, from our days at Bo School, then Fourah Bay College and recently at the University of Leeds, where we both studied for our PhD degrees. He studied economics and I studied law.
During this particular conversation, our minds drifted from our growing up in the 1970’s and 80’s in Sierra Leone to where we are now.
We began our conversation by reminiscing about spending Christmas in Sierra Leone, during that period of growing up. During those times, I had two close friends who were brothers growing up in our village: Joseph Thoronka (of blessed memory) and his younger brother John. Both were attending Boys’ School in Magbruaka. We would all meet during the holidays in our village of Makonkary in Yoni Chiefdom, Tonkollili District. We were all boarding students in our various schools and spending our holidays in the village was something we looked forward to. Our Christmases were full of fun and happiness.
I could still remember during the festive season, us chasing village dances, held in the dusty “court barrays” , or specially prepared areas built for the occasion, and playing football against other villages. Joseph was the better dancer and a better footballer than John and me. Our Christmas leading on to the New Year could see us visiting most of the surrounding villages to attend dances. That sometimes involved walking 15 miles on a round trip, just to attend those dances, from Makonkary to Roruks, Mathoir and Komrabai Yoni.
One incident always comes to my mind. Those days boys would borrow stuffs from each other. On that particular occasion, Abdul one of the guys who used to hang out with us, but who usually stayed in the village borrowed a pair of shoes from Joseph to attend one of those dances. I think it was at Kumrabai. During the course of the dance, a dancing competition was announced, and both Joseph and Abdul entered for it. Abdul was making a better show of his dancing skills, when Joseph sensed that Abdul stood a better chance of winning the competition. He went over to Abdul and said, “man be careful, the way you are dancing, you will ruin my shoes.” Obviously, that shattered Abdul’s confidence. He slowed down his dance moves and Joseph ultimately won.
Well the next dance we were to attend having had some sympathy for Abdul, I decided to lend him a pair of shoes for that occasion. But as we were dancing, I noticed that, he was much apprehensive to show his moves. He was at that time, dancing with a very beautiful from a nearby village. Noticing how self -conscious, he was, I then walked up to him and said, “ man, it’s my shoes, dance however you want, I don’t mind.” He just looked at me, in a kind of way.
Back to our conversation, Joe is a city boy, so he was coy about Christmas in the village. But he mentioned that when he use to spend his holidays at Sierra Rutile in the Moyamba district, he was looked at with envy by the other boys and all the girls would vie for his attention because we was posh, had good looks and was always well-dressed.
The conversation went on to how things have really changed in Sierra Leone. We continued to talk about how local industries have shut down, some even before the war. He mentioned about the Bata shoe company where his dad used to buy his footwear when he was at the Bo School. We continued to mention all those companies that are no longer trading in Sierra Leone, such as Barclays Bank, Sierra Leone Oxygen Factory at Kissy Dockyard. Oh what about all those companies that used to produce “Tabaca” and “Western” cigarettes? At the time Wellington industrial estate had quite a number of factories, “Was that not so?” I asked him. What has happened to Natco factory with those ”Butter Biscuits” that were produced there? Oh, what about “Alosak” bakery at Fourah Bay Road?
In those days, when I was at Bo School, I remember when my result was sent by post to my father in the village. The post man from Yonibanna town( about 13 miles away) would travel to Makonkary just to deliver my result. My dad would also travel to Yonibanna town, to send my school fees by postal order. My father would mail-order shirts directly from my village to Langfield Shirts in the UK. The shirts would then be delivered directly to our village. Do these times still exist?
We continued talking about our days in Bo School, (I was his senior), when we had inter-secondary school football and volleyball competitions, and the “Kukujumuku” fund – sorry I am not allowed to explain what that is. Smile! And the drilling, baptism and initiation of freshers. Seen as a rite of passage for every Bo School boy, then.
One of my closest Bo School friends at that time, was David Panda-Noah ( the current minister of internal affairs). I recalled when we could join provisions after coming from holidays. He came from NDMC in Yengema in Kono. We would join provisions together. He had more of western food stuff like, cornflakes, chocolates, jam, tomato ketchup, etc. I had “ kanya”, “Porcheh”, “ kandah”, “ Benni” and “Kenyah pepper mixed with Maggie. And of course, there was Teddy Hebron, another of my friends, who spent part of his childhood in the UK, but was attending Bo school at that time. He could leave his dormitory ( incidentally, named London) to come to mine; Liverpool, and we would spend most of our time playing scrabble or reading novels, such as James Hardly Chase, Perry Mason, and books by authors from the African writer’s series.
We continued to my brief days at FBC, especially the practice of underground (UG) - whereby students who were dating but didn’t want their relationship to be in the public view, would sneak at night into the female hostel at Lattihyde or Beethoven. Or on rare occasions the girls would come down to the male hostels (Don Block). I asked , Oh, what about exiling our roommate when we had a visitor? And how some of roommates would refuse to leave the room to give privacy? What about “roomtaria, (cooking in the balconies of our rooms), and rushing to Block A for an early morning shower. (Bo meek ar soak nor). Block A had longer periods of running water than the other male hostels. What about “wake-up and jog” during sports week? Or attending the Freshers’ Dance at the SU Building. Sitting under “bus tik” to while away the time, whilst waiting for lectures. We both doubt if these things are still happening, owing to the fact that, students have not been residing at campus for the past few years.
As if that was not enough, we continued talking about girlfriends. Conversations of this nature hardly end without that being discussed. The common thing then when was one visiting one’s girlfriend (are dey go bear), was to have a pre-arranged whistle tune with her. The boy would whistle the song and when the girl heard it, she would find a way of sneaking out of her house for a quick kiss and a dash back to the house, before her parents noticed her absence.
When our conversation ended, I remember spending 2019 Christmas Day in Makonkary. Back then, the village would be teeming with holiday makers, students and other family members returning to spend the yuletide season in the village. This time, the place was empty with only the senior citizen, and young kids around. During my visit I went to the nearby village of Magbessa – my mother’s village which is about half a mile away from Makonkary. On the way, I passed through the village stream of Rokereh. Sadly it had dried up. Not able to survive the change. I can still remember when we used to swim and fish in it during those days. The swamps surrounding the stream now lie fallow and neglected because there are no youthful or strong men left in the village to cultivate them. This may be due to the fact that, most of the young men are now driving “Okadas” or motorbike taxis, or breaking stones or are engaged in some kind of petty trading in the big towns, trying to eke out a living there.
As I reflect on my conversation with Joe, I cannot help but shed a tear or two, just thinking about those sweet days gone by. The changes our country has undergone. Not least the fact that our country was not as divided then, as it is now. To that end, one has to look no further than the make-up of some of my Bo School friends that I have mentioned. Joe (a Mende) is from the South, Panda Noah (a Kissi) from the east, Teddy Hebron (a Krio) from Western Wrea, and I ( a temne) from the north. And I must say, all of us are still firm friends even today.
Our friendship transcends geographical boundaries or tribes. Though we were politically naïve then, and we may now have different political ideologies and beliefs, that has not ruined our friendship. Is this not a very good example of how people would still come together, despite their background, region, tribe or political persuasions?
My reflection dwells on my experience some time ago, and even though things have changed, the memories would always linger on, to be told on another day.
Dr Ishmail Pamsm-Conteh is a Faculty member at the Ernest Bai Koroma University in Makeni and also teaches at the University of Makeni
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