My arrival in Sierra Leone was dramatic…like Sierra Leone herself. My first glimpse of the country took my breath away. The Sahara’s endless brown haze and rolling sand dunes finally gave way to a region of dense jungle mountains sliced by long, narrow rivers winding through the hues of green. There were so many rivers that it was impossible to distinguish islands from the mainland. It suddenly made sense as to why helicopters and boats are needed to carry people to and from the airport!
Most of the plane’s passengers—a mix of humanitarian aid and private sector workers, diplomats, and Sierra Leoneans—were out of their seats and in the aisle, bent over with necks outstretched, looking out as many windows as possible. The Sierra Leonean woman next to me pointed out the Freetown mountains which were named “Lion Mountains” by a Portuguese explorer in the 1400s, and consequently led to the naming of the country, Sierra Leone.
Our plane landed on the single runway with such a rough jolt that dishes from the Attendants’ quarters flew out of the closed cabinets and crashed on the floor! But it didn’t matter; it just added to the already high energy ambiance! I was thrilled. I was back in Africa after 8 months and Sierra Leone was a new country to me. Although, I would quickly find out that it would be wonderfully familiar.
A few hours after landing in Sierra Leone, I arrived in Freetown. As I stepped out of the helicopter, I was startled by the loud whirr of the propellers and the force of which my hair was pulled up and whipped around my head. I took a moment and looked back at the chopper and I saw the “Lion Mountains” off in the distance, under a beautiful moon.
I started my walk across the pavement and saw one of my best friends standing next to our organization’s Land Cruiser. The chopper swallowed my laughter as I walked towards a friend I hadn’t seen in over a year and towards a vehicle marked with the logo of a mission I had longed to be a part of for three years... And in that moment, it all became real. I was walking on new ground, and walking into yet another chapter of my life.
I have been told that I have arrived at the Middle Place, or the Center of the Earth, while in the Southwest, the Middle East, and Africa. And each time, the face of the voice has the same look of pride, confidence, and love. I think they want me know that I have entered a sacred place as a visitor. Whether it is to interpret what I experience or simply describe observations as a silent witness in awe, this space is to capture—in the written word and images—my moments in the Middle Place.
