By Ibrahim Sourie Mansaray, Guest Writer, Stockton, California, USA.
Home again,
Home again,
When shall I see my home?
When shall I see my native land,
I shall never forget my home.
Those were the nolstagic lyrics of my popular primary school song in Jaiama Sewafe, Kono district, Eastern Sierra Leone. As a boy,I thought the song was meant for only welcoming dignitaries visiting our school or to march through our small but very nice village.
Today, as I mark my second anniversary in the West, the stanzas in the song keep reverberating in my mind. The notion of the West being a paradise seems to have disappeared beyond imagination.
Few weeks ago, I read Ojuku’s piece about living in the West. Indeed, it can be a blessing for some lucky ones whereas for others, it is just the setting and climate that have changed but the hardship still looms.The gold that used to glitter on the streets of the West is now dust. The diamond dream of the West is now a nightmare. The unity that used to exist amongst Africans regardless of nationality is now zero. The center cannot hold any longer and mere anarchy seems to be roaring over our heads.
Our homes in Sierra Leone are empty as most of the sons and daughters are struggling in the West. O brothers and sisters, the West nowadays is not the West of yester years. The brothers have turned against each other. Brothers, out of jealousy, prosecute and persecute each other. Some of our sisters have inculcated the habits of the West more than the original owners of those habits. Child support (making monthly payments to the ex-wife or ex-girlfriend for the kid or kids) is the new phenomenon of trapping our brothers. In the West today, true friendship is hardly found as brothers celebrate another brother’s calamity.
Brothers and sisters, our country, Sierra Leone, may not be a paradise as a result of the global crisis. However, there are good things to say about home. In my tiny village of Jaiama Sewafe, everybody is a member of an extended family. The huts and court barray serve as a unifying force. It is a village that knows no boundary, race or tribal sentiments. It is therefore no secret that children of Jaiama Sewafe always consider themselves as one.The atmosphere of friendship is superb, the troubles of one family are the concern of all. Unity is primordial in our villages. That unity is absent in the West where the "ant world" psychology is universal; where even to shake hands is rare as it is mostly considered a waste of time.
Some of our politicians in Africa know the hardships being faced in the West and yet involve in personal aggrandisement .The ’pull overs’ by the highway patrol police, the mortgage crisis, the car note, discrimination of all kinds, paying for big houses you don’t own which can be taken away from you any time, paying for big cars you don’t own which can be taken away any minute, drowning in debts you know you will never pay back, the rising cost of living etc, etc, are killing the aspirations of the African child or adult in the West. Interestingly, most of the politicians in Africa had faced these tough times when they were in the West, but on assuming power, some easily forget and engage in corrupt activities.
Being in the West can cause mixed feelings. It can be good and bad at times. It is understandable that no matter how one tries to explain the tough times of the West to our people in Africa, there are some who will never understand and believe. Indeed, some can be right as I had similar feelings about the West before I came.
The West is biting deep into the flesh of struggling and trapped Africans. While the winter season twists the neck of Africans with its bitter cold winds, the summer sweeps the dark, nice color off the skin.
It is tough living in the West but as the Mandingo adage goes , "as long as you are in the river where others have crossed to the banks, there is no reason why you should not do the same."
I am a determined Sierra Leonean in the West ready to swim to the banks of success but I will never forget the old song:
Home again,
Home again,
When shall I see my home?
When shall I see my native land,
I shall never forget my home.
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