Finding Salone

"I don't see it!" "I think it's over here..." "Wait, that's it there!" Scrutinizing the recently painted map, some of the junior students at my school attempt to find their homeland. They point towards Asia, then towards South Africa, and then after one more futile point at South America, they give up. "Show us! Where is it?" After, some of the senior students point Sierra Leone out to the younger ones, they start to get upset. "Our country is so small!" "Why did you paint it so small?" The senior students just laugh at their silliness and then look to me, hoping that I will explain everything. I go over in my head what answer I could possibly give that would satisfy them and it comes down to this simple explanation that every other Sierra Leonean gives: "God made it so." Should have I given them the correct answer, that colonialism and greed gave shape to their country, instead of allowing them to remain ignorant to the truth? I probably should have, but that will wait until another lesson on another day. Regardless, my students contented themselves with the fact that our painters distinguished Salone from the rest by painting it the colors of the flag: green, white, and blue. "I'll never forget now! Our country has more colors than yours!" I remember my search on the map for Sierra Leone after I found out my Peace Corps placement. Where in the world would I now call home for the next two years? My reaction resembled that of my students, "So small!" But now, after a little over 9 months here, I realize that geographical size of this country does not matter. Sierra Leone seems huge! The fact that a nearby town, only 15 miles away, can take an hour to reach in the dry season (almost two in the rainy) stretches this country out. When that drive in the U.S. can be so brief and insignificant, going that distance in Salone seems like a grand achievement. Sometimes after a journey to another volunteer's site, you look at the map and find yourself shocked and in disbelief that such a short distance took you at least four hours to accomplish. Rough roads and rusty vehicles make Salone big. The small geographical size of Salone also deceives in other ways. In the United States you can drive throughout one state and stop in almost every city, town, and village and you will typically hear English. Salone does not always have that convenience. Most speak the lingua franca, Krio, but you could stop in one village and hear Themne, and then go a little further and hear Mende. The list goes on with Limba, Kono, Mandingo, and so on. The United States may have a diversified population, but this small country with a number of different languages spoken once again makes it seem bigger than reality. Yet, I cannot deny the things that allow Salone to appear as small. No matter where you go, you will never fail to see people preparing rice, cassava leaf, petete leaf, kren kren, and so on. In every village, town, and city, women will wear their lappas around the waist and the men may be enjoying a cup or two of palm wine after a day in the field or work at the shop. Young girls will make their line at the pump or well, and boys can be seen enjoying a game of football. As you pass by in the car, it never fails that children will start yelling "oporto" or "pumoi" at the stranger. It can seem all too similar. No matter how small or how big Sierra Leone might feel, it has started to feel more like home. A home far away from the original one that I know as much more comfortable and familiar, but a place that I slowly come to understand more and more each day. I can no longer look at Salone as just a place on the map. It's become too big for me to ever overlook it, and so big that I can never explain every experience I have. Like my students, once I found it, I'll never forget it.