brooking clothes in Looking Town

Sister Neves, Peter, Ali, and a few other young men found ourselves in Looking Town one fine afternoon a few weeks ago. We stopped by Musu Sillah's home to teach little Adama and Kadi and a half dozen other fine little ones who live in the little home without doors or windows under the mango tree. (Adama Sillah 9 years old - baptized in December 2010 - we baptized her Mama Musu a month earlier)

It was as a breath of fresh air to sit there for an hour and teach a little and watch Sister Neves do the thing she loves to do best or second best after reading, which is to teach. (Peter Vandi Bassie Jr. is staring at me taking the picture- Kadiatu, daughter of Musu 7 years old is next to Peter - then a little neighborhood girl, Sister Neves, Musu with her damaged head partially hidden, Ali Kamara just baptized son of the Muslim Gibril has his hand on his head, Joseph with the crutch came by to visit, he's a member but doesn't attend always, and finally Abdul who's family is all Muslim. Musu and the rest of the extended family live in the home you see in the background.)

We then moved on to Isata a little further down the mountain to visit with the little mother of twins. 

While there I noticed a little scene being played out that was too good to pass up. Peter is always telling me, Elder Neves you're not a tourist. He reads the white bible if Sister Neves doesn't. (These four year old girls were totally unaware of the fact that we were interested in what they were doing. They were simply washing their clothes an hanging them up to dry. Their Momma had gone to the market to get some food for them all, rice, fish, and probably some peppers or potato leaves. Maybe she went to do a little bit of selling of something or another.

These little girls barely able to take care of themselves were doing the brooking absolutely by themselves without any adult supervision besides us tourists looking on in the background.

Once the sweethearts observed us watching and taking pictures it became a little bit more staged and the kids enjoyed the whole idea of performing. Most of the scene played itself out with the children being totally unaware that they were being watched. 

There is nothing quite as constant as the satisfaction of watching and photographing little children here in Africa. The little black faces lend do all the work themselves. These little girls saw us teaching and taking photos and wanted in on the action. I kind of staged them to pile up a little and look around the corner. They were all just coming back from school in their various uniforms.

This little one just felt like posing for us. She also was involved in the clothes washing. I'll try to get some names of the children in the pictures from now on. This is probably Aminata or Fatmata or Fatima or Mary or Isata all commonly used names.

Is this your mama or some movie star?

One fine afternoon Sister Neves said to me,
"Elder Neves, its time we explored the other
side of the island". To save a little bit of grief
and misery I said surely I will my sweetheart.

We went there once at night without any
idea of where we were going only following
tail lights but this time it was on our own.

We headed into Congo Cross by way of
King Harmon and pretty soon by golly we
were crossing the Aberdeen bridge where
the rebels had tossed over whomever they
didn't like.

The big Atlantic looks you right in the eye and
you can almost see the United States of America
from the bridge.












We traveled on around and for heck sakes found

ourselves at the old famous Lumley beach.
Sister Neves had to take her shoes off and give
her a tumble.





At first I thought it might be a little mermaid

coming in the distance.

As she came closer the mirage appeared more
and more like the woman I married back when
I married her.












The sea breeze does fine things to the little

sweetheart and she loves to walk the beach.













She has been asking to go back but unfortunately

we've been unable to find the time. I'll need to
go get it done in the next few days and let her get
some sand between her toes again.





The pictures don't show the beggars, the garbage,
or the burned out road behind the beach nor the
UN helicopters flying over occasionally.

Elder Gifford, my own personal hero, and Elder Dogbatse invited
Sister Neves and I to visit a fine gentleman they were teaching in
Kissie Town. He is little tailor and a fine man with whom we
became acquainted, Alimomy Bangura.

Elder Gifford has since gone home but is quiet and somewhat
solemn but was as hardworking and effective as any elder I've
met here or in Mexico forty years ago.

Elder Dogbatse from Ghana complements him very well and
is an excellent elder and a musician in his own right.

We participated with Alimomy a couple of times in his shop

since he lives very far away and it is easier to visit there than in
his home, particularly since his wife is a Muslim.

The Elders and Bangura invited us to come to the baptism in
Wellington but when we arrived a fine Saturday morning the
water was not available and we spent an hour waiting to make
a decision on where to go to get it done.










While I was waiting there it seemed a fine idea to clown around

with the camera and make the time pass more quickly. Bangura
and I had a fine time he loosened right up.

A little clutch of boys who are not members but just like to come
to church came by and made it even more fun while we spent a
little more time deciding what to do.

We finally decided to load up and go to Grafton and baptize in
the river there. The folks who live in a little home by the river
side were not members but for some reason Elder Gifford
figured they wouldn't mind sharing their river and home with
us.

So Sally and Bally and their two little babies were treated to a

fine bunch of Mormon folks and potential Mormon folks
as we took over their lives for an hour or two.







Sally even showed me how to wrap a little baby for the
carrying and then she started a fire for us and generally
carried on while we carried on.












                                                                                                                                                                We had a fine service and the baptisms were excellent even
though the President generally believes that these are best

done in the baptismal fonts in front of their potential
congregations. I believe he is correct in that reasoning
but it is interesting on a one time during a mission basis.

Alimomy has proven a fine member although he has a bad
case of malaria and we've been trying to do our best to help
him out. He lives high up on the mountain in Looking
Town and has little access to medical care and medicine.



                                                                      

                                                                        We've been there as often as we can to give what support

we can and to offer our prayers and comfort. Our personal
Utes often accompany us on these trips.














Usually we take a long hard trip home through Kissie Road

which in good times takes eighteen minutes and in bad times
it has taken up to three hours. Mom is usually ready to
strangulate me by the time we arrive home.

Mother and I are doing a good job for two fat white folks
of trying to fit in to the culture and to the work here
among our good black brethren and sisters.



                                                                                                                                                                                                      








I don't think I'd want to be anywhere else right now but

here. Often I'll look down at my hands and am surprised
to see that they are white and not black.












It might be nice for a few minutes to see
the little ones at home but we'll just
have to make do with what we have

here for now.

Going out with di Utes

We'd planned the day and time and were only
hour or two late. The youths were waiting patiently
as only African Utes can wait patiently, looking
down from the upstairs balcony of the old building,
standing on one leg, the boys not the building.

We gathered in the chapel and started planning how
we were going to tackle all the sinners. Mainly I had to send Joseph to get the cold drinks. Sister Neves was asking Idrissa if he'd ever played Banjo Tui. He hadn't but she explained her strategy.  







Joseph or "Joe", as we affectionately, and if I
might modestly say so, quite creatively call the little feller, asked, "what?" I thought seriously about slapping the little sweetheart right there in the chapel but thought better of the idea.






                                                                                   We sang a little hymn, said a humble
prayer to begin our day and then
I suggested that we put on our hat and
pull our trousers up around our chest
bones with the exception of Sister Neves
and get on the road. We did.

Once again Samuel or "Sam", as we affectionately,
and if I might say so, creatively call him once more
took charge of Sister Neves and made sure she
didn't fall or get lost or swept off her feet. Once I
heard her say, "I almost got swept of my feet", so I
know it was a concern of hers. She also said, "Oh youuu" once.

I'll do a little series of photos to show our walk
through the streets of Kissie Town.

Are you sure the street is that rough, Mom? Wait, where are you going?

Would you please just stay with the
group from now on? Something is lost
when you go off on your own like
that?

After we spent the afternoon visiting Mom
thought she'd like some Mexican food so we
stopped by the Amigo's cafe to some good
old African hamburgers and chicken and a
little something to drink.

For her hamburger Mom found a piece of chicken, she thinks, spagetti, beans, and a little ketchup inside a big old bun, yum.

I wisely chose a piece of spicy chicken and politely
ate around the bone with a fork while my Utes
looked on in amazement. I thought they were
amazed at how polite I was and well mannered but they were simply amazed at how stupid I was for picking around the good bone.

Sam, as I affectionately call Samuel Kanu, asked
reasonably if I'd be messing around any more with
 the bone.

I assured him that I were purty well done with it and handed the thing over to him with a grin.

My good little old twenty two year old friend
Samuel, proceeded to eat all of that big double jointed chicken thigh bone clear down to the nubbins until all that was left was nothing but
a little grease when it had earlier resided.

What a day!

I'm thinking to myself, "what a perfect end
to a perfect day. I can go to bed happy tonight."

My Utes all gathered around me, Sister Neves
and I, the only white people in the
center of the whole east side of Freetown, and
I just watched Sam eat an entire quarter of a
chicken, bones and all.

As we went home to the other side of the city, the old West side I took a little snap of this scene looking  across the Atlantic ocean and a thousand miles inland where you just finished a little lunch at Wendy's a few minutes ago.

I'm sorry you couldn't be here in this little bit of perfection. We'd love to be able to show you around sometime but I'd have to show you the door after three or four days.

We've got too much to do.

Elder and Sister Neves