Personal space doesn’t really exist in places like Freetown, Sierra Leone. Unless you have a driver and your own car your sweaty skin will likely be sticking to at least one or more people at any given moment throughout the day. As was the case this week.
I was sandwiched between two people in the back of a shared taxi. Distorted reggae blasted through the battered speakers near the back of my head. We were trying to find a radio station… but couldn’t correctly help the driver navigate. My elbow was piercing into the ribs of the passenger sitting next to me, but he insisted on escorting us all the way to our destination. Dressed in a neatly pressed but faded maroon shirt and slacks he gripped a manila envelope.
I asked him where he was going and he gently pulled out a laminated business diploma and a resume. He had just graduated and was on the hunt for a job. .. but of course “nobody is hiring.” When we arrived at our destination we reached into our pockets to pull out a few dirty notes. But before we were able to pay the driver the jobless husband and father in the back seat already paid for us. Not only did he travel further than he needed to, he wanted to foot the entire bill.
It happens almost every day here. Little random acts of kindness in a country where the majority of people are living in extreme poverty. Like the woman selling oranges on the side of the street. A kerosene lantern lit up her carefully pealed goods. She pulled out a plastic bag, I shook my head no, thinking she wanted me to buy some fruit. She ignored my gesture and reached into my hands- my dirty sandals were slung through my fingers. She carefully tucked them into the bag, smiled and sent me on my way.
It’s the reporter who intentionally paid for my meal when I wasn’t looking; or the ladies who fanned my face while shopping for fabric. It goes on and on.
There is a fear among some western visitors to Africa that we are perceived and treated like walking ATMs stocked full of cash simply because of the color of our skin. While “white man prices” do exist, that stereotype, if you will, has been debunked many times in our short time here.
A lack of personal space…perhaps…but the sense of community and genuine kindness trumps any sweaty cab ride.
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