Nostalgia

The Sierra Leone I love
Extends beyond borders

She is more than a place, she is it's people

So when I think of Sierra Leone
The first thing that comes to mind
Na d smell of poyo and cassava leaf na cookery bafa
And the crack of draft pieces skating across the board

I hear a cacophony of voices
Arguing politics at Burgess
And whispers of Krio on the 36

We are a people who are kind but untrusting
Provocative and unrelenting
We are stubborn and talented and beautiful

We are gifted with a land rich in resources
That have been abused by those meant to protect it
Inheritors of a country who still needs TLC because she is yet to heal
From the traumas of war and the corruption which worsens it

The land of liberation
The Athens of West Africa

Lately you've felt like a dream
See, the Sierra Leone I love
Is not one that exists
It's a myriad of memories and feelings which intersection at rose tinted glasses
So to me your beauty is boundless

So when I think of Sierra Leone
I am awash with nostalgia
The gust of heat and salt in the air at Lungi
The bustle of bodies at PZ
White beaches and clear seas and chants of capitalism in action

I remember life lessons taught by Mr.Pessima and the sparks of socialism ignited in Social Studies with Mr Thomas

You are 60 mama
Yet I feel you've only just started to peak your face
From under the weight of slavery, corruption, abuse and civil unrest

The Sierra Leone I love is not bound by borders
She is found in the baritone laughter of old Sierra Leonean men in pubs
And the flex of diasporans on the TL
The vybz from Freetown City

At 60 mama, na you this

Simply a Poet