Kenewa

OK so I just need to get all this out. That's probably best. When you save somebody, shouldn't they remain saved? One morning, about 5 days before I was supposed to leave Sierra Leone, my assistant did not show up for work. He called me on my cellphone at around 10am, and told me his brother, Kenewa, was sick "second to death." Luckily Minah was on the island and we set off for town in my dugout canoe. I arrived in town and rushed over to Kenewa's house. He was lying on the verandah of his house, on the concrete, shivering, with most of the village surrounding him. The whole village did not go to their fields that day because they were so worried, which means it was really serious. Many people thought he had been possessed by a devil, but I thought malaria. Minah and I decided he needed to go to the clinic, and we put him on Minah's motorcycle and took him there. He got medicine and got a little better. We decided he needed to be at home with his family, since he was able to walk and talk. We took motorcycles home and arrived in the village. His wife almost cried she was so happy to see him alive.

Three days later I came in from the forest with my assistants, and Momodu (the boat driver) was waiting at the research station. He told us that a big police truck had come to the village and handcuffed Kenewa to take him to Potoru (the nearest town). Apparently they thought he was hiding a motorcycle in his house. There was no evidence and the whole village was like "wtf" cuz it's pretty hard to hide anything in a village that was so small. I knew Kenewa was still very ill so I rushed to Potoru. The policemen, who had been trying to get bribes out of Minah before, suddenly became men "just doing their job" and with "only the law in their hearts." They wanted to take him to Kenema (a bigger town) to put him in jail there the next day. We convinced them to let him not sleep in jail cuz he was still really sick, and promised to bring him back the next day. We came in the next day in the morning with Kenewa, stressing how sick he was. The men who had actually stolen the motorcycle were also in jail, and were like "Dude, Kenewa has nothing to do with any of this! Why is he here?" I decided to provide the police with some...liquid...since they seemed...thirsty (bought them all palm wine). After awhile the main police dude said we could take Kenewa home since they didn't want him dying on them in jail. I posted about $7 in "bail" money, and we took him home. The welcome we got from the town was amazing. Everybody was cheering and his wife hugged me - Sierra Leonians don't hug! I felt triumphant and wonderful.

We even had my going away party, and Kenewa came and danced and had a nice time. I left for Freetown the next day, keeping in regular contact with everybody.

At midnite the night before last, I got a call that I did not recognize from Sierra Leone. I did not answer cuz I knew the person on the other side could not afford to talk to me, and I didn't have my calling card handy, so I just went back to sleep. The next day I thought of the odd call, so I started trying to call Minah. I finally reached him around 4pm yesterday. He greeted me, then asked if I had gotten his text message and I replied that I had not. He said "Oh, well, Kenewa is dead." My heart stopped. I asked what he died of and Minah told me he had died of "the cold." I said "You mean he had malaria?" Apparently he had started feeling cold the day before, and then got a fever. By 330am that night, he was dead. Cerebral malaria seems to be the culprit.

Kenewa was my translator, the guy who washed my clothes, my security guard, my dance partner at discos who took care of any stupid drunk men, he was one of my best friends. He never made a move on me, which is saying a lot for Sierra Leone men!

Sierra Leone will not be the same with my Kenewa. He was an amazing man. He did not blink when I was bitchy to him. He always danced with me when I didn't have a dance partner (even if he already had a cute girl as a dance partner, he'd always make sure I wasn't dancing alone). He was the tallest man I met in SL. He had 7 beautiful children. He was saving up to get a tin roof on his house (I'd been planning to surprise him with a bundle of tin next year). He planted cocoa seedlings that he was going to make a plantation with. During the Peace and Reconciliation meeting, to help ease the tensions, he did a very realistic impression of a chimpanzee. He loved bushbuck meat. He joined the Kamojos (grassroot militia) during the decade long Sierra Leone war to fight the rebels. He told great stories. He was my friend.