Je bekijkt de reis...
16 april 2017
I even forgot your name. Like you seem to have forgotten Moses Kamara, IMATT, my husband.
I concluded fast that your role in his life has past away. But I’m fast in conclusions, maybe too fast. I don’t want to waist energy, you know.
I know Moses didn’t forget about you.
Lacking inspiring examples in his own country I know for sure that you are still in his mind and heart. Disappointed already maybe, but still what you are doing, helping young Sierra Leonean people in the UK if I’m right, is motivating him to train young men as a driver on his own precious property.
I don’t know if you have been long enough in Sierra Leone to discover this side of his personality: his bikes and his cars are almost sacred for him. Washing it every day after dusty rides, changing the oil on scheduled dates, listening to the sound of the engines to hear if every thing is okay, even changing the tires after suss and so many weeks.
Still he lets inexperienced drivers sit next to him to learn how to drive a car or a poda poda, and when they learned enough he buys them a driving license. To give them a better future.
His driving license was the only official document of his existence when he and I met. It surprised me sometimes, the importance of it to him, far beyond a working tool. But now I understand better.
To be or not to be, in a way that’s what it was, after the complete population registers of Sierra Leone were destroyed in the war and everybody was nobody.
He told me of showing you around, shortly after the war. You wanted to sea and speak to young rebels. He guided you and sheltered you and even fed you sometimes, for free. I believe what he is telling, I never had any reason to doubt him.
He was scared to go to rebel grounds, even after the war. He told me one time that in the beginning of the war nobody really knew what it was, ‘rebels’. Was it a different kind of dangerous species?
Well, as you know: people found out with all the atrocities that went with it.
So it was no small favour what he did to you, although even perhaps you never realised this Joseph.
Yeah, the name came back.
Like all the NGO people you left after sometime, leaving him behind in his rotten country. I imagine that you tried to soften the saying goodbye, like how this happened with other NGO-workers that he was close connected to. ‘Bye my brother! We’ll meet again, I never will forget you and I’ll will be there when you need me’.
And then nothing anymore. Killing the love and friendship and promises, probably even without ever giving it a thought again. Leaving him and others behind waiting, hoping, missing, realizing: we were nothing but rats to others glory.
Still your example is in his head, it must have triggered something that was there already. I started loving Moses also because of his concern for the less privileged, who as you know are numerous in Sierra Leone.
Today again one of his pupils crashed with our Toyota. You can’t know that Moses never calls the Toyota Hi-ace a ‘bus’ or a ‘poda poda’. No, it’s The Toyota.
The Toyota today lost the left forewing, and an iron pipe between the two front wheels broke. Worse: it hit a bike with a passenger behind. The driver suddenly turned around on the road and his eyes missed the bike.
Also the bike is badly damaged, and the passenger had to go to hospital.
I heard on my work. At home I called him, and met him shouting and furious.
Let me say: I was disappointed. We try to save for an investment that hopefully can make us spend more time together. After all we are husband and wife. We’ve taken some small steps in the good direction, but with this accident we’re back to zero again.
So yes: we even shouted at each other. That was my mistake: I know how not to shout when I’m very frustrated. I cannot expect that from him; I have to be the example here and I found a better attitude back with Burning Spear after an hour walk in the dunes; ‘My way is long and the road is so foggy. But Jahjah is my eyesight´.
I sang the song for him through the phone. His next message he repeated it, telling me also that this was a bad day in his life because the people, always willing to laugh about someone taking a different route than the majority and willing to humiliate already made their remarks.
‘Fear the people’ is what he wrote on our first bus, you know. I can go with that.
Sad as I am now, for not being able to give him all the support that he needs in his lifestyle, you came on my mind.
It would be so nice if you only called him now, praised him for his work, showed some interest.
Is that asked too much, Joseph Duncan?
16 april 2017 22:00 | Door: Kiki van Beelen
PS Later I heared that the bike was driving much too fast. But then Moses already had it fixed at the fitter. The man was dismissed from hospital and got medication on Moses' account. The Toyota will be fixed on the first working day that follows.
And I sang to Moses, together with P-square "No one like you', as I did 8 year ago when he tought me how to ride the Bajaj.