Sierra Leone, the land of late-night street discos and catchy slang, is at times remarkably formal. Even architecturally when driving down the dusty streets of Freetown, one will see a cement structure with re-bar sticking from the sides—not uncommon for third world countries—then suddenly out pops a beautiful, wood-paneled colonial house nestled among the cold cement cubicles.
Similarly with the Sierra Leone African pidgin language (Krio), you will find a turn of phrase flourishing with formality. A “how are you?” may either be “how de body?” (obviously informal) or they might great you with a “how de morning sah?” How is your morning sir? I’ve never been called “sir” before, unless mall security is attempting to get my attention. However Sloans don’t hear themselves being formal. It’s just a natural facet of their mother tongue, curiously influenced by Freetown’s early days when the ex-slave founders knew only of the formality of their colonial households or British slaving ships.
When visiting the Chimpanzee Reserve near Freetown, the local guide Moses explained how careful we must be around the chimps because they are able to throw rocks with deadly precision and force. After explaining in broken English how we must keep our distance, he ended with a matter-of-fact, “Your safety is paramount.” I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard that word used beyond Paramount Studios. We were careful around the chimps.
At Tiwai Island, a nature reserve in Southern Sierra Leone, we had the chief (“de cook”) making us some of the best grilled chicken I’ve had in Africa. But before we could enjoy our spicy meal, my friend Lewis had to let him know that we had come back early from our hike. After Lewis had located our cook friend, he politely explained that we were back an hour earlier and whenever the cook is ready we are available to eat. The cook dramatically paused, then very slowly said, “Wouldn’t you agree,” choosing his words precisely, “that nothing good comes from something done in haste?” Lewis, being somewhat taken aback by this sudden philosophical reflection said, “Why yes, I guess I do agree.” “Then dinner will be ready in 30 minutes,” our cook stated.
Finally being the videographer onboard Africa Mercy means I am frequently exposed to smiling, happy locals beckoning me to “snap me! Snap me!” As I lift my camera to film them or take their picture, suddenly their flashing white smiles collapse into grim, formal expressions. I take their picture, then right when I lower my camera they burst into smiles and laughter. I’m afraid when I show people my pictures, everyone will think I deal with very difficult subjects. But they’re just being formal. The only pictures they’ve seen are weathered black and white stills of their grandparents hanging in their living room, obviously not smiling. If one can afford just one photo, might as well look properly regal. Perhaps their grandfather was dressed in British officer regimentals, or their grandmother was in a classic, high-necked dress, sitting in a rocking chair under a palm tree. With this in mind, it’s only natural to pose like this.
Sierra Leone: The land of informal formality.
Here are a few photos I took. A second before and after these photos were taken, these people wore giant, bright smiles. Note the con-artist who had fun with Liz Cantu's camera. ;)
A quick picture of Liz in the wards. Note her lovely smile:
