Life and Death

On Thursday my biggest problem in Sierra Leone was trying to decide whether or not to give up on the “goatee” I’ve spent the last two weeks of my life working on. I don’t think it counts as a real goatee. I don’t think it counts as anything.

On Friday I would have given my “goatee” or anything else I have to go back to the way things were on Thursday. I woke up to a text message from one friend that said the father of another one of our friends had passed away.

It seems important to point out that the friend who texted me was also supposed to celebrate her birthday that evening.

I felt really weird. And really bad. David is a local Sierra Leonean who is good friends with Mohamed, who works at the YMCA. He’s become close friends to numerous people staying there, including me. So when we found out what happened, we tried to do all we could.

One person stayed home from work to be with David. Another rearranged her birthday so that we could all just be together that night. I did the only thing I could think of to help: I went to the supermarket and bought whisky.

Sometimes, you just need a drink. This seemed like one of these times. Plus, as an American, I feel like while abroad it’s my job to bring whisky to any monumental occasion, good or bad.

That night we all hung out at the YMCA, drank whisky, listened to music and pretended like it was any other Friday night. We were all thinking about the same thing, but didn’t say it. Eventually, the music (I’m going to choose to account the rest of the night to that…but in all honesty it was probably the whisky) led us down the street to Krio Wendy’s, our go-to bar.

We danced and laughed and had a legitimately good night.

I never met Mr. Yarjah, but from all accounts he was a good father who loved David and his siblings. I don’t know what he died from, but it sounds like he had been sick for a while.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Obviously, I’m here if David needs anything, but I’m not sure about the rules here. Can I go to the funeral? How can I help? Is it okay to write a column about this? The last one I’m not sure about, so that’s why I’m sticking to the safety and security of a blog post. Besides, I think like two and a half people read this anyway (the half is me…I don’t really proofread…this is all from the heart).

I also really had a strong desire to talk to my parents after this, but was able to corral my nervousness until the usual Sunday night chats. My No. 1 concern here is that something will happen to a loved one back home. I worry more about that than malaria, break-ins, food poisoning or anything else.

I worry about it while back home in the U.S. too. It’s definitely my No. 1 concern there as well. But here the distance just seems to amplify the feeling.

For now, I’m going to continue to help my friend as best I can, whether it’s with a column about his father, having someone to talk to, or even another bottle of whisky (it’s pretty cheap here), all the while praying every night that everybody back home stays safe and healthy.

Right now it’s all about that. I’ll worry about my “goatee” later.