Day One - Just Coming

Music is magic. I would not be here without it. At one time, music was my salvation. Perhaps it still is. Music is freedom, not “free” as would be chaos, but as in reaching out and across, an invitation unapologizing. Music doesn’t ask for permission.

Africa is like that. In seat 31D, aisle, I am southbound, 31,000 over the Sahara at 600, Freetown out over the curve, two hours out. The rhythm is getting louder, palpable, the up-and-back-and-up-again of Humanity here, where, it is said, Humanity took its first steps.

Brussels Air flight 9874 carries a full complement of that Humankind, some for home, some for assignment, all to live along this particular road, at least awhile.

The young mother three seats over, in hand-hewn embordered robes arched over her head and down –blood pink, gold and yellow flower patterned on black – is watching Crazy Rich Asians on her postcard screen while her 12-year-son, as-if dressed for church – white shirt, brown

vest with light gold chain hanging from button hole and looped back around – is crashed over his folded arms on his extended meal tray.

Two rows up are three kid-brothers, creating their own special brand, alternately quiet under mom’s command and then using their seats as trampolines. The tiny one again launches into an angry growling cry and then his extended sobbing complaint of too much time, too little space. No-one around is passing judgment on child’s protest. No doubt with mom’s reminder (whether gentle or impatient), he’s again going to buck up and keep up, just like 20 minutes ago.

Shortly, we will meet the pavement at Lungi Field, Sierra Leone’s international terminus. With no particular proof to offer, I confidently declare it will be raining there, or about to, since, after all, rain in July owns this place, sometimes tolerant of humans, other times driving in with full-on disdain that civilization would venture to hang on here.

At Lungi (“Sweet Salone”), we will unload a few, take others on, and be off down coast to Roberts Field, Liberia’s world portal. Word has it that ROB has a sparkling new terminal as of this past Thursday, presumably Chinese constructed, complete with two roll-out passenger bridges even. Apparently no longer will airline arrival into the second oldest country on the Continent (founded 1847, Independence Day two days back) be by heavy gravity walk

across an oppressively humid tarmac and through a low, dimly lit one-story that all but cries out: YOU ARE IN THE THIRD WORLD, DEAL WITH IT.

At this point, the week ahead is shaping up into a gigantic change of plan. The design has been to join Jay and Calvin to deliver the last three days our leadership and competence seminars with 60 or so “Vacation Bridge” first-year AME University students. Friday night, 48 hours back, Jay wrote to inform of two holidays suddenly upcoming, Monday and Wednesday. News to me.

Time, obviously, will tell. If I know anything from something like 14 trips to West Africa over as many recent years, this is the land of Plan B … and, failing that, C. Anything is possible in Africa. Music to my ears.

Onward,

Tim Bowles
Sunday, July 28, 2019