Latest news with #Freetown
Sky News
a day ago
- Politics
- Sky News
Famous chimpanzee sanctuary faces existential threat from illegal land grab
There is a distinct moment when the tranquillity of the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary envelops our car as we drive higher up the mountain. The buzz of Freetown gives way to the hushed calm of this pocket of pristine rainforest reserved for critically endangered western chimpanzees rescued from across Sierra Leone. The quiet is necessary. These bright primates - closest related to humans in the animal kingdom - are easily disturbed and the ones living in Tacugama are particularly sensitive. The more than 120 chimpanzees brought here are traumatised survivors of mistreatment, hunting and violent separation from their families in the wild. They are now facing another existential threat. Illegal encroachment is eating away at the edges of the conservation area. Despite wildlife laws, forest has been cleared to make way for houses being constructed closer and closer to chimp enclosures. "We've been issuing several warnings over the last year," says Tacugama founder Bala Amarasekaran. "Four months ago - again - we gave a warning. Then we had presidential intervention say that some of this encroachment will be stopped. It started very well for the first month then everything stopped again and we are back at square one. So, we are very tired and very stressed." Thirty years ago, Mr Amarasekaran appealed to the government to donate land and partner with him to create a sanctuary for the protection of the abused orphaned chimps he was finding across Freetown. Today, land in the Western Area Forest Reserve is being grabbed right under the government's nose. "The government has been very good in terms of helping us in every way - however we expect the leadership to be more firm," says Mr Amarasekaran. "When we talk to them, they are all with us. They all want to help. But when it comes to action it looks like some of the departments that have the mandate to institute certain laws and take the necessary law enforcement action are not acting." Sanctuary closes its doors to focus on conservation, rehabilitation and research Tacugama has grown to become Sierra Leone's most popular tourist attraction over the last three decades. But in a stand against the fast-approaching illegal encroachment, the sanctuary has closed its doors to visitors to focus on conservation, rehabilitation and research. "It is not a tourist attraction - we made it become a tourist attraction. It is supposed to be an orphanage for rescued chimpanzees," Mr Amarasekaran says. "They are used to us and some visitors but they will start to see strangers come and that is where the problems start. They are not comfortable with strangers - don't forget it is the stranger who killed their mother. It is the stranger that wiped out their group." 'A complex problem' We asked Sierra Leone's government spokesperson and minister of information and civic education, Chernor Bah, about the illegal encroachment. "It is a complex problem. You have a city that is growing. People need places to stay and we have not done the best job in terms of enforcing all these limitations," he replied. "Some of our agents seem to have been complicit in allocating and giving people land in places they are not supposed to stay. So, I don't think I can sit here and say we have done enough - there is much more we can do. "[Tacugama] is probably our most cherished and significant wildlife asset in the country." A national symbol for tourism In 2019, the government designated the western chimpanzee as the national animal and national symbol for tourism. The image of a chimp is now etched in Sierra Leonean passports, a result of Tacugama's advocacy Mr Amarasekaran and his team hope will entrench a love and respect for chimps that will curb the need for intervention. "We wanted something more - that is how the national animal bill came through," says Mr Amarasekaran. "We thought if the agencies that are mandated to do all the law enforcement are not active and effective, then maybe we need to create a synergy between the people and the animals." Chimpanzees hunted for bushmeat But chimpanzees are still being hunted as bushmeat for food across Sierra Leone and baby chimps are being torn from their families to be kept as illegal pets. Tacugama's latest rescue is only eight months old. Baby Asana is frail with thinning hair and is being nursed back to health by his chimp mum, Mama P, when we meet him. He was rescued after an informant sent a video of Asana wearing human clothes and being mistreated as an illegal pet in Bo, Sierra Leone's second largest city. "For me as the founder of the sanctuary, I feel defeated," says Mr Amarasekaran with Asana being cared for behind him. "These chimps shouldn't be arriving here if we have done enough work outside - there shouldn't be any killings, there shouldn't be any rescues. That is the time when I can say that I achieved something." Research from the Jane Goodall Institute identified that between five and 10 chimpanzees die for every surviving rescued chimpanzee. And with the sanctuary closed, much-needed public advocacy work will take a hard hit. 'Until I came to the sanctuary, I didn't see a chimpanzee' "I'm really concerned because I only even started to experience chimpanzees when I started working here. I knew that we had chimps here. But until I came to the sanctuary, I didn't see a chimpanzee," says 25-year-old Tacugama communications officer, Sidikie Bayoh. "Now, we are at a situation where we are closed indefinitely but what if this becomes something wherein we can never open the sanctuary again for people to visit? Then you will have all these young Sierra Leoneans never fully understanding what their national animal is." The closure also means there will be no revenue from visitors at a time when USAID funding has been halted. "In the absence of funding from - at the moment - the US government, it is going to be difficult for us to turn around quickly," says Mr Amarasekaran.
Free Malaysia Today
3 days ago
- General
- Free Malaysia Today
Sierra Leone seeks help for growing mpox outbreak
20,000 vaccine doses are expected to arrive today, destined for high-risk contacts including healthcare workers. (AP pic) FREETOWN : Sierra Leonean authorities have called for international help to curb the spread of mpox in the country as a new toll yesterday showed the number of cases continuing to rise. A total of 3,350 cases have been recorded since January in the West African country, including 1,779 recoveries and 16 deaths, up from 3,011 cases a week earlier, according to an official report seen by AFP. That was a smaller increase than the nearly 50 percent rise in registered cases since the previous update on May 13. 'We appreciate our development partners and we will continue to ask for their assistance for the necessary resources to respond to the rising cases of mpox in the country,' deputy health minister Charles Senessie told AFP on Friday. 'We are working rounding the clock to bring this pandemic under control, and we will continue to give the necessary human, financial and logistical resources to our health workers so that they can work effectively,' Senessie said. Vice President Mohamed Juldeh and Senessie visited a new mpox treatment centre with a capacity of 400 beds opened in Freetown on Thursday. Foday Sahr, director of the public agency in charge of combating the disease, said 20,000 vaccine doses are expected to arrive today, destined for high-risk contacts including healthcare workers. A total of 42,872 healthcare workers on the front lines of the fight against the disease have been vaccinated so far. Mpox is caused by a virus from the same family as smallpox, manifesting itself in a high fever and skin lesions. First identified in the Democratic Republic of Congo in 1970, the disease had generally been confined to a dozen African countries before spreading more widely from 2022. The WHO declared its highest level of alert in 2024 over that outbreak. Other African countries have seen rising cases of mpox, with thousands of cases notably afflicting Congo, Rwanda, Tanzania, Burundi and Kenya.
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
31-mile Memorial Day run to honor Tyler Trahan, Freetown Navy SEAL killed in Iraq
On Memorial Day, Jackie Francisco will run 31 miles solo from Bourne to Freetown to honor Tyler Trahan, 22, who lost his life April 30, 2009, while conducting combat operations serving in Iraq in the U.S. Navy in support of operation Iraqi Freedom. Francisco, the principal at Freetown Lakeville Middle School since last September and former Fall River K through 12 director of fine arts, lives in Freetown, the same town where Trahan attended middle school. As a runner she often runs by the Tyler J. Trahan Memorial Rotary in East Freetown and thinks of him and his sacrifice. He died two days short of his 23rd birthday. "I've been very aware of the community and would run by the rotary every time and think of Tyler because the rotary is dedicated to him, and he had lived right down the street from my house," she said. "I've run by his street hundreds of times and there's a connection that brought back memories of him and his sacrifice." To honor his sacrifice, Francisco met with his mother, Maureen Trahan, over the winter to plan an event that would help students in town raise awareness about a local hero who lost his life in support and protection of their freedom as Americans. They talked for hours and ultimately Francisco suggested that she run 31 miles, the equivalent of a 50K, from his memorial circle in Freetown on Memorial Day, Sunday, May 25. The Tyler J. Trahan Memorial Rotary, located at the intersection of County, Chace and Mason roads, was dedicated in his honor in 2013. Petty Officer Second Class Tyler J. Trahan, a 2004 graduate of Old Colony Regional Vocational-Technical High School, was an explosive ordnance disposal technician with a Navy Seals team that had deployed to Iraq. He enlisted in the Navy in 2006 after attending the Massachusetts Maritime Academy for one year. Trahan, a Freetown native, was killed in 2009 by a roadside bomb in Iraq's Al Anbar Province, his father, Jean Pierre Trahan, told the Standard Times at the time of his death. Francisco will run solo from his gravesite in the Massachusetts National Cemetery in Bourne starting at 6 a.m. Sunday, May 25, to Tyler's Circle in his memory and to honor his sacrifice. A flag holding ceremony will be held at the rotary at noon when the run is complete. The Trahan family will also be there. Francisco's husband, John Nelson, will be her chief navigator and support crew along the 31-mile route from Bourne to Freetown, a role he regularly takes on while she runs. She said he too, is honored to participate as someone who is 100% behind America's veterans. Tyler Trahan: Area remembers Freetown serviceman killed in Iraq She said the Freetown Police Department and Freetown Fire Department will also show their respect for Trahan, some out there along the route. They have also expressed their gratitude to her for taking the time to honor his memory. "It will be a time to bring him home, so to speak," she said. She wants her students to understand there are many different ways to honor veterans such as tidying up the cemetery or helping out at veterans' events, putting flags out in their yard or helping raise and lower the flag at their school. Francisco said she wants to let students know there are many ways to show respect as Americans. Tyler Trahan: Family, friends keep fallen soldier's memory alive with charitable event Some students will be at Tyler's Circle holding American flags, and some will help with a beautification project honoring those who lost their lives in war, and other students will work on planting flowers around American flags next week. She said it's an honor for the eight-grade students who have worked on civics projects in class, members of the cross country team and other eighth graders to stand up and hold the flags. Standard-Times staff writer Kathryn Gallerani can be reached at kgallerani@ Support local journalism by purchasing a digital or print subscription to The Standard-Times today. This article originally appeared on Standard-Times: Freetown Principal Jackie Francisco Memorial Day run honors Tyler Trahan
Zawya
19-05-2025
- Health
- Zawya
Trained to Lead: How One Nurse is Changing Healthcare in Sierra Leone
Driven by compassion and determination, nurse Betty Koker is transforming patient care in Sierra Leone — showing how mentorship and local leadership are building a stronger healthcare system. Betty Koker's nursing journey began with a childhood tragedy. "I lost my mom... she died after giving birth," she recalled, her voice calm but firm. "According to my dad, it was due to the negligence of the nurses. And from there, I decided to become a nurse so that I can help people, especially children, not to become orphans." Fueled by that vow, Betty left her hometown of Bo for Freetown, determined to turn grief into purpose. She enrolled in the Faculty of Nursing at the College of Medicine and Allied Health Sciences (COMAHS) at the University of Sierra Leone. She graduated as a nurse in 2016. After graduation, Betty didn't take a break — she put her education into action. "I went to the nurse in charge, pleaded with her, and said, 'I will volunteer. I'll work for free.'' A full-time nurse at Connaught Hospital, Freetown's largest public hospital, Betty continues to pour her heart into her work. She's also a dedicated participant in a mentoring program run by the international charity Mercy Ships' Education, Training, and Advocacy (ETA) Department, where she's expanding both her skills and her impact. Learning with Mercy Ships The ETA program pairs local healthcare workers with seasoned mentors. At Connaught Hospital, Betty began working alongside Katie Henderson, a nurse mentor from the UK, who quickly saw something special in Betty. The program introduced Betty and her peers to structured nursing protocols, such as A-to-E and neurovascular assessments, which are tools designed to identify deteriorating patients so that their level of care can be elevated. But beyond clinical technique, the human touch set Betty apart. "I witnessed Betty educating a patient who was preparing for surgery," said Katie. "This patient was quite nervous about going down to surgery; he was worried that he was not going to be safe, and he was just worried about the outcomes of his surgery. I watched Betty use her training to educate him and ease his worries. She was so confident in her ability, and that made me proud.' Many of the assessment tools were new to Betty, but hands-on mentorship helped turn theory into practice.. "There are things we learned which we have not been doing here. So, being mentored really helped us put them into practice. And there have been moments we have put many of these things into practice," Betty said. Her learning journey didn't stop there. Betty boarded the Global Mercy™, the world's largest civilian hospital ship, for an immersive training experience. There, she stepped into a fast-paced clinical environment where theory met practice. "I worked in the orthopedic department, where children learn five key exercises with us," she explained. "From here, we'll put them into practice [at Connaught], and I know it will be very helpful for us.' Beyond orthopedic care, Betty participated in emergency simulations in the Global Mercy Simulation Center — managing post-operative complications, performing rapid A-to-E assessments, and making split-second decisions. It was an opportunity to practice these skills in a safe environment, preparing her for real-work practice. The Impact of Mercy Ships Through Mentorship For Betty, the most powerful lessons didn't just come from textbooks or simulations but from watching someone lead with consistency, heart, and excellence. "What I have learned from Katie is dedication. She's very dedicated to her job," Betty said, elated. "When Katie says she's coming at 8 a.m., she shows up at 8am. She is very time conscious, dedicated, and compassionate." That consistency created a ripple effect. Under Katie's mentorship, Betty and her peers began to sharpen their focus and raise their standards. "Whenever she's around for a sort of monitoring, we all come around the patient... she can do the correction whenever necessary. If there is no correction needed, Katie applauds you and gives you a reason to do more." Bringing Knowledge and Change Back Home Back at Connaught, Betty returned with new knowledge and a renewed sense of purpose. She is determined to implement what she's learned despite limited resources. "It exposes you to see reality. In Connaught, there are things that we just don't have. On Mercy Ships, they have everything... but it teaches us to improvise," she said. Her transformation wasn't just professional; it was deeply personal. "Sometimes love... you can show love without being paid for it... you can show compassion without being paid for it," she said. "A smile can lift pain from so many people.' She hopes Mercy Ships' role will have a lasting impact. "They are not helping us so we should depend on them. They are helping us to depend on whatsoever we must build up our healthcare facilities," Betty explained. Looking Ahead With Hope For Betty, the future isn't just about what she can do — it's about who she's becoming. She believes the nurse mentorship program at Mercy Ships isn't just shaping skills; it's shaping systems and outcomes. "It will influence my work positively in Connaught because here, I have learned to be more precise and I know it will help my patients," Betty said. When asked what people in Freetown say about Mercy Ships, she smiled: "Back at Connaught, people say Mercy Ships is a godsend… that they are sent here to help people. They are everywhere." And when she reflects on what makes a great nurse, Betty doesn't point to high-tech tools or perfect conditions. Instead, she looks inward. "The main thing I've learned here is whatever you are doing, you should be compassionate about it. You should do it with love, confidence, and teamwork." Through her journey, Betty Koker hasn't just grown as a nurse; she's stepped into her future as a leader. Learn how you can support Mercy Ships' healthcare training and mentorship in Sierra Leone today ( Distributed by APO Group on behalf of Mercy Ships. For more information about Mercy Ships, contact: Sophie Barnett Mercy Ships International PR Manager About Mercy Ships: Mercy Ships operates hospital ships that deliver free surgeries and other healthcare services to those with little access to safe medical care. An international faith-based organization, Mercy Ships has focused entirely on partnering with African nations for the past three decades. Working with in-country partners, Mercy Ships also provides training to local healthcare professionals and supports the construction of in-country medical infrastructure to leave a lasting impact. Each year, more than 2,500 volunteer professionals from over 60 countries serve on board the world's two largest non-governmental hospital ships, the Africa Mercy ® and the Global Mercy ™. Professionals such as surgeons, dentists, nurses, health trainers, cooks, and engineers dedicate their time and skills to accelerate access to safe surgical and anesthetic care. Mercy Ships was founded in 1978 and has offices in 16 countries as well as an Africa Service Center in Dakar, Senegal. For more information, visit and follow @ MercyShips on social media.
Yahoo
18-05-2025
- Yahoo
Why now's the time to visit underrated Sierra Leone
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). The storm is clearing now, though the occasional bolt of lightning illuminates our passage. As my eyes slowly adapt, the world around me reveals itself in flickers and bursts: slender palms bent in prayer over the silent water; the villager to my left clutching a brace of pucker-mouthed catfish; fireflies darting like embers through the gloom. We're bound for Tiwai, a remote river island of 4sq miles situated in one of the last portions of ancient rainforest in West Africa. We set off from Freetown that morning, leaving the capital's blue-green shores to follow increasingly non-existent roads east into Sierra Leone's Southern Province. It hasn't been an easy journey to this point, but with the first stars glimmering on the water's surface, and the distant howls of primates all around, I feel sure I'd travel to the moon if it sounded even half as beautiful as nighttime on the Moa. It's a reminder that some of the most euphoric moments Sierra Leone has to offer can't truly be appreciated without first enduring a bit of discomfort — hardly surprising given this is a nation where prehistoric forests, former slaving stations, abolitionist utopias and world-class surf all coexist within an area that's around three times smaller than the UK. The plan is this: after searching for Tiwai's 11 primate species, my guide Peter Momoh Bassie and I will cross back over the river to Kambama village and return to Freetown. Occupying the seaward nib of a forested peninsula, the port city will serve as our base as we explore the islands of the Sierra Leone River and the coastal communities of the wider Western Area, visiting people and landscapes whose stories remain largely unknown to outsiders. 'I think it's just us,' says Peter when we reach our camp: a circle of netted huts set around a jungle clearing, each furnished with several frisbee-sized spiders. This is accommodation for wildlife-lovers who regard the term 'luxury safari' as an oxymoron. There'll be no sunset gin and tonics tonight. In fact, there may not even be any dinner, the freshly caught fish I had my eye on during our crossing currently bound for the wildlife research station downriver. Peter, furrowed brow framed by a military-grade crop, has gone in search of food, leaving me to quell my hunger with one of the sweet-scented oranges we were smart enough to buy from one of Freetown's wandering street hawkers. Sierra Leone is full of surprises. The first is that its oranges aren't orange at all — they're green, the peel so thick it takes a good 15 minutes to excavate the sweet flesh within. It's an apt symbol for a nation that, from the outside, can often seem impenetrable, its charms long overshadowed by the civil war that tore through the country between 1991 and 2002. When Peter finally returns, having convinced Tiwai's research scientists to part with a few portions of flame-charred river fish, we huddle around the camp's dining table to eat and talk long into the night. The guide was just 11 when he was captured by rebel soldiers in his hometown of Makeni, Northern Province. Tasked with carrying ammunition, he was fortunate enough never to fire a shot, though it took years of counselling to come to terms with the violence he witnessed. 'I was very angry at that time,' he says, spooning purple-flecked wild rice onto my plate. 'When I came home, even my brothers were afraid of me.' After the war, Peter began working as a guide for the NGO workers and missionaries who poured into the country in the early 2000s. But in a nation grappling with the transition to peace, the past had a way of haunting the present. While guiding some visitors around Makeni, he spotted his old army captain sitting by the side of the road. 'It's not easy seeing someone who's caused you suffering, but it's the future that matters,' Peter tells me. 'I have daughters at home. I want them to know my story, because, if they do, I know that angry boy will not live on in them.' The following morning, I find myself in the shadow of a giant. The skin around her trunk is barbed with spines, her upper reaches cloaked in wisps of cloud. Some 40 feet in height, she looms over the forest floor, dwarfing bamboo canes the height of church spires. She's a 200-year-old Piptadeniastrum africanum, a deciduous species that Tiwai forest guide Mohamed Koroma tells me is known to the local Mende — one of the largest ethnic groups in Sierra Leone — as the bélé tree. Mende is one of several Sierra Leonean languages spoken by Mohamed — ironic given he's a man of so few words. His reticence, it occurs to me, isn't shyness but the result of a lifetime listening to the language of the forest. It's left him able not only to identify — and occasionally imitate — Tiwai's every bird and primate, but also given him an encyclopaedic knowledge of its plant life. 'The bark of the bélé is a powerful medicine,' he tells me, reeling off a list of uses that includes everything from alleviating insanity to curing scabies — a reminder that traditional medicines remain a key line of defence in rural communities. 'The leaves provide food for red colobus monkeys and, if you're lost in the forest, you can hammer the wood and the sound will be heard in the closest village.' He gives the tree's cavernous roots a swift thump and the beat skims across the landscape like a pebble over still water. 'Tiwai is a gift.' Just a few centuries ago, the canopy formed by such giants would have been near continuous, covering much of West Africa in a tangle of red ironwood, lianas vines and yellow-lipped orchids. By 1975, 84% of the Upper Guinea Rainforest had been lost to deforestation, and today, Tiwai's 31-mile trail network winds through one of the ancient habitat's last remaining fragments. We walk in silence, hands brushing against ruby-red hyacinths wet with dew. Mohamed's elder brother, a senior forest guide, taught him to navigate these emerald corridors, and he seems to move without thinking, deep-set eyes drinking in the forest's every detail. 'Pygmy hippos,' he whispers, crouching low to inspect a trail of prints in the mud. 'They were grazing here last night.' Though we're unlikely to see one now, their mere presence on Tiwai is enough to make my skin prick. By 1993, widespread habitat loss meant there were fewer than 2,000 pygmy hippos left in West Africa, to which they are endemic. The civil war did nothing to aid their survival here either, with rebel soldiers relentlessly poaching the island's mammals for bushmeat, virtually eradicating its diana, red colobus and sooty mangabey monkeys. It's little wonder Mohamed seems so keen to savour the silence here. This forest once crackled with gunfire. Now, it's filled by the mellifluous cooing of hornbills. Protected by eight host communities from the locally governed Koya and Barri chiefdoms, it's one of the best places to spot pygmy hippos in the wild, and home to one of the highest concentrations of primates anywhere in the world. 'This isn't a zoo,' Mohamed assures me. 'The monkeys move quickly, so you must be quiet. Don't step on the twigs.' I keep my eyes fixed on his footfall, hyper-aware of the world at my feet: the fluid trickle of ants pouring in and out of their nests; foot-long black millipedes shimmering like onyx. Then, a rustle from above; pale leaves falling like jade confetti. Mohamed stabs a hole in the air with his machete, and there they are — the rust-red backs of a dozen red colobus monkeys leaping from tree to tree. Using his hands to form a cone around his mouth, he imitates their cry: a high-pitched 'chow' that flies like a boomerang into the highest branches. A moment later, the troop returns the call. As they leap and chatter, I turn to see Mohamed with his eyes closed, basking in their language. We cross back over the Moa River to find hearth smoke rising over Kambama. Everywhere I look, something is being reaped or readied, the red earth laden with piles of rice and cocoa beans. Kind-eyed farmer Lihias Lukalay spots me admiring the fruits of his labour and guides me down to a dappled grove where, between leaves as thick as elephant's ears, his cocoa pods are slowly ripening in the midday sun. 'Sometimes, you can get 150 from one tree,' he says proudly. 'They start off green then turn gold — that's when I know they're ready to open.' He brings his machete down and splits a pod into two mirrored halves, digging out a bean and offering it to me on his upturned palm. The flavour stays with me, bitterness dissolving into an earthy sweetness, as Peter and I bump our way back to Freetown in a battered people carrier. Such roads once made driving between the capital and the provinces a near impossible feat, but improvements in infrastructure over the past few years mean that this stretch is now the exception to the rule. 'They call this the African massage,' Peter says, his laughter rising and falling in pitch as we trundle from pothole to pothole. We watch rice paddies fade to cashew groves until the hills above Freetown come into view. When the Portuguese first saw this hilly peninsula in the 15th century, they thought its peaks resembled a lion. With the wind roaring, they named it Serra Lyoa, or 'Lion Mountains'. They didn't stay long, soon setting sail to chart the routes that would shape the Atlantic slave trade. The arrival of the capital's founding settlers in 1792, mostly formerly enslaved people from North America who had sided with the British during the American War of Independence, reversed the trade's flow of human cargo. Aided by British abolitionists looking to establish a free Black settlement in Sierra Leone, they laid the foundation for a 'Province of Freedom' that, following the abolition of slavery, would welcome peoples from across the African diaspora and come to be known as Freetown. But forging such a utopia wasn't easy when one of the largest British slaving forts in West Africa lay just 20 miles upriver, as I discover when we take a boat to Bunce Island the following morning. From a distance it seems a haven: a deep thicket of tamarind and baobab trees where fisherfolk from Freetown pause for shade. It's only when we trek to the ruin at its heart that I realise I'm on an island of ghosts. 'Bunce Island was the centre of slavery for the whole of West Africa,' Peter explains as we wander beneath shattered watchtowers and crumbling archways, occasionally finding rusted cannons and nameless graves in the hungry grass. 'Around 30,000 West Africans passed through here before they were taken to places like Georgia and South Carolina, and today many Americans come to Bunce as a sort of pilgrimage.' A sapphire-blue butterfly pauses to rest on Peter's arm and I'm struck by the dissonance in my surroundings, the landscape's tranquillity so at odds with the violence it's witnessed. But as Peter recounts the tale of Sengbe Pieh, a Mende farmer who won his right to return to Sierra Leone after leading a revolt aboard a Spanish slave ship in 1839, I begin to understand that reading such places only for their dark histories is to overlook the tales of strength that have emerged from them. That afternoon, Peter and I take a boat back to Freetown to meet Mary-Ann Kai Kai, a local fashion designer for whom Sierra Leone's heritage has long been a source of inspiration. We find the city thick with heat and life, its streets filled with market vendors dressed in cloth so vibrant they seem to leave a trail of colour as they wander kerb to kerb, great baskets of oysters, oranges and plantain balanced on their heads. 'You'll see a lot of Sierra Leonean women wearing their traditional fabrics on Fridays,' says Mary-Ann as we amble across town, her flowing, tie-dyed gown a beacon amid the city's sea of tin roofs and timber-framed colonial buildings. 'Sierra Leonean style is a blend of new ideas and old customs.' Descended from one of the country's few female paramount chiefs — a term used by the British in place of king or queen when referring to local rulers — Mary-Ann is the force behind fashion label Madam Wokie, which has helped to create jobs for some 3,000 young female tailors over the past three years. Its outfits are crafted using gara, a type of hand-dyed cloth historically coloured with indigo leaf or kola nuts. 'Gara patterns change as you go around the country,' Mary-Ann says, cowrie shell earrings glinting in the afternoon sun. 'But all Sierra Leoneans love bright colours,' she adds with a smile. 'The stress of living here means you need something to brighten your mood.' The mood could hardly be brighter at her studio, where some local musicians have gathered with slender wooden drums, their rippled beats and half-chanted vocals setting the pace as 100 busy hands craft fresh lengths of gara and batik. While the eldest workers thread needles through milk-white fabric, the youngest, many sporting their own designs, douse crumpled sheets with iridescent blue-green dye or use candlewax to decorate them with trippy galaxies of colour, their easy laughter filling any space the music doesn't. 'For me, Sierra Leone is one of the happiest places to be in the world, but it can also be unpredictable,' Mary-Ann shouts above the hubbub. 'When you live in a place like this, you have to find a way of empowering others — and that means working with what you find within your surroundings.' The following day, we drive south to Bureh Town to meet someone for whom that came instinctively: local surfer John Small. Born and raised here, the muscular 24-year-old is one of the founding members of Bureh Beach Surf Club, the wellspring of Sierra Leone's burgeoning surf scene. I meet him for a beginner's lesson on the club's thatch-roofed verandah, beyond which sage-green waves slide onto a crescent of ochre sand. 'As a child, I spent months watching expats surf here,' he recalls as we pad out onto the beach. 'When I finally got a board, I already knew how to stand up.' For me, it's not coming so easily. Thankfully, John's a safe pair of hands, though he does fail to contain his laughter when I attempt to push myself into a standing position only to faceplant the sand. 'You look like a professional,' he says. He may be a liar, but he's also something of a local legend, having taught almost all of Bureh's instructors. One of them joins us in the wash: steely-eyed Kadiatu Kamara, Sierra Leone's only professional female surfer. 'I'm trying to encourage other girls to take up surfing, but it's not easy,' she says as we follow John into the bay's waters. 'We have the beaches but not the resources to make it accessible. That's what we're trying to do with Bureh.' I carry that determination with me as I kick myself shoreward, managing to stand just long enough to glide, not so elegantly, into the wash. The ensuing buzz drives me straight back into the water. 'My dream is to have a surf shop here,' John tells me, gazing shoreward. 'All our boards, including the one you're using, were donated by friends from outside Sierra Leone. Every other professional surfer has their own board, so why not me? Why not us?' My trunks are still dripping when we say goodbye. Peter's anxious to make the 4pm ferry set to take me from Freetown back to the airport, though he still finds the time to make a pit stop for fruit and roasted corn on the way. We make it to the quay just in time, where my guide — all relieved smiles and weary eyes — presses a green-skinned orange into my hands just as I'm swept up by a shoal of boarding passengers. The clouds have been thickening all day, but a change in the wind soon rakes them threadbare, leaving swallows dogfighting in a cornflower sky, and me, never so content, eating sunny mouthfuls of honey-sweet fruit. Published in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK).To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
