A Long Way Gone_ Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah [69]
“Have you ever been to the city?” Alhaji asked us.
“No,” I replied.
“I was supposed to come to Freetown for school, but then the war came. I heard it is a beautiful city,” Alhaji said.
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. The bus is here,” Mambu announced.
Soukous music was blasting inside the bus, and people were chatting loudly, as if at a marketplace. We sat in the back and watched the houses and kiosks go by. A man standing in the aisle began to dance to the music. Then a few passengers, including Mambu, joined in. We laughed and clapped for the dancers.
We got off the bus on Kissy Street, a busy area near the heart of the city. People were hurriedly going about their daily lives as if nothing were happening in the country. There were big shops on both sides of the street, and vendors crowded the tiny sidewalks. Our eyes feasted on everything, and we were quickly overwhelmed.
“I told you it would be great.” Mambu jumped up in the air.
“Look at that tall building.” I pointed at one.
“And that one is so tall,” Alhaji called out.
“How do people get up there?” Mambu asked.
We walked slowly, admiring the number of cars, the Lebanese shops filled with all kinds of foods. My neck was hurting just from looking at the tall buildings. There were mini-markets everywhere, selling clothes, food, cassettes, stereos, and many other things. The city was too noisy, as if people were having arguments everywhere simultaneously. We wandered about all the way to the Cotton Tree, the national symbol of Sierra Leone and the landmark of the capital. We stared openmouthed at the huge tree that we had seen only on the back of currency. We now stood under it at the intersection of Siaka Stevens Street and Pademba Road, the center of the city. Its leaves were green, but the bark looked very old. “No one will believe us when we tell them this,” Alhaji said as we walked away.
We walked around all day, buying ice cream and Vimto drinks. The ice cream was difficult to enjoy, as it melted too quickly under the hot sun. I spent most of my time licking the sticky residue on my elbows and between my fingers instead of eating it from the cone. As we walked around the city center, the numbers of people and cars increased. We knew no one and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Mambu and Alhaji walked behind me the whole time and consulted with me about which way to proceed, when to stop…It seemed as if we were still in the front line and I was their squad leader.
It was almost evening and we had to return to the center in time for dinner. As we walked back to catch the bus, we realized that we didn’t have money to pay the fare. “We should sit in front and when we get to our stop, we can jump off and run away,” Mambu told us. We quietly sat on the bus, eyeing the apprentice (the conductor) who collected the fare before every stop. When the bus was about to reach our destination, the apprentice asked those getting off to raise their hands. He walked down the aisle collecting money. Then the bus stopped and the apprentice stood at the doorway, to make sure that no one got out without paying. I walked toward him, my hand in my pocket, as if I was pulling out the cash. Then I shoved him to the side and we ran away laughing. He chased us for a bit and then gave up. That night we told all the boys about the tall buildings in the city, the noise, the cars, and the markets. Everyone was excited and wanted to go to the city after that. The staff had no choice but to arrange weekend trips to the city center so that we would stop going on our own. But that wasn’t enough for some of us, who wanted to visit the city more than once a week.
I do not know what happened, but people stopped buying our school supplies. Even when we offered them for a cheaper price, we were unable to get buyers. Since we didn’t have any other means of getting money, we could no longer go into the city center on our own, or as frequently as