I know I haven't updated this in AGES....but yeah...here it is!
A journal entry from 2.21.06: The making of the film Blood
Diamonds has reminded me of how differently I remember Sierra
Leone…
…On Thursday a friend & I watched Lion King & if he
wouldn’t have been there I would have sobbed like a baby! I still felt foolish because
I cried a lot even with him there. But I would have cried so much more if I had
been alone! I wanted to just close my eyes & cry & cry forever! My
<3 is just so sad. I have no idea why it is hitting me so hard these days. I
have these random flashbacks of Kabala (my boarding school in Sa Lone) & I
just don’t know how to handle them. It is so vivid & yet all so very far
away in my mind!
I remember standing on the back porch behind my dormitory
& looking off the hill top at dusk. The sky is a cotton candy blend of
orange & pink with heavy purple clouds rolling in on the horizon. The air
is hot & muggy, but tolerable with the promise of a stormy night! The top
of Split Peak
glows as the last of the sunlight glides across its rocky surface & slowly
disappears. The old bong-bong trees begin to catch the wind, swaying sleepily
in the yard. Grandma Carol quickens her pace as she finishes her evening walk
around “the circle.” Soon the boys will come in from playing soccer, beckoned
by the shower bell.
All seems right in the world.
The sky darkens as the ominous clouds roll closer. As they
draw near the low rumble of thunder is met with distant flashes of lightening.
It is going to be a great storm. The wind picks up & brings with it a
slight chill that makes the trees begin to groan. Sarah joins me on the porch
and makes some comment about the storm that is to come…but I’m not really
listening. The scent of rising dust reaches my nose as the first heavy drops
fall on the red dirt below the porch. The rain is heavy and slow at first, but
soon it is upon us!
Our hot & sunburnt skin is kissed by the mist that
reaches us even under the protection of the veranda. The dancing drops of rain
on the tin roof above complete the symphony that is an African thunderstorm.
The lights pop on inside as we hear the generator kick on in
the distance. Soon it will be time to sleep. Reluctantly I head inside & join
everyone else who was driven in by the rain. The storm continues as I crawl
into bed. The air in my room is still heavy with the heat of the day, but the
breeze from the storm slides through the glass panes & blows the curtains
around in a swirling mess of sun-faded blues & greens. I would love to open
the window…but Sarah can’t sleep that way. The sound of the storm quickly lulls
me to sleep…all is well!
That is just one of so many memories that haunt me. The
figures in my memories are ghosts. I feel terrible for not remembering more. I
love to remember & I hate to remember all at the same time! It is beautiful
to remember, but it hurts. I think of how little is left that I can recall. I
feel betrayal in my forgetfulness. Like I am forsaking a huge part of who I am
by not remembering.
I long to stand on the beach at River #2 & run after the
thousands of crabs...to make a baffa to shield us from the sun. I would love to
stand in a tide-pool at the Haroon’s beach house & watch the dolphins that
play right off the shore. To explore the abandoned beach houses littered with
Star Beer bottles & scary quiet! But those places have now been used for massacres
beyond what I dare to imagine. Is the joy still there? Do the dolphins still
dance at sunset?
…But that is all so far away now. I would love to search
through the pools of water left in the rocks at the Aqua Club at low tide…but I
don’t even know if it is there any more! It hurts so badly to hear about what
is going on over there. I want to go back and visit so badly…to get that
closure I never got when we were evacuated. But I’m pretty sure the Sa Lone I
remember doesn’t exist anymore…=(
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