About Us - Greg Smith
Christmas Letter Written by Greg's Wife, Clare Staton
Dear Friends,
Greg served in the Peace Corps in Sierra Leone in 1974 and ‘75 and hadn’t returned , though he had never forgotten the people in the village of Sinkunia where he lived. We decided a year ago to make a trip to Sierra Leone. I have to admit, I wasn’t that excited about our trip, left ALL the planning to Greg, and truly had no idea what to expect. I simply wanted for Greg to be able to “tie a bow” on his Peace Corps experience by showing it to us -- me and Lily who is 14 years old now.
About 15 years ago Greg established contact with the Paramount Chief there and we lent some small support to the chiefdom during the horrific 11 year long civil war that ended in 2002. Various atrocities were visited upon the people of Sierra Leone by the rebels: burning homes, maiming and killing in torturous ways. During the war, the chief’s family was forced north out of the country to seek refuge in neighboring Guinea. Some then obtained visas to Canada; a son, Sheiku Mansaray, was one of them. He became our go-between and a source of much information through email.
We landed in Freetown, located on the coast , in the middle of the night with Sheiku, whom we had met the day before for the first time. He is currently living in London completing a master’s degree in Social Work and is a thoroughly westernized young man on the outside. However, his heart still lies in his father’s chiefdom and so he agreed to serve as our family’s guide for the trip. I felt completely confident and safe in his care; our trip was made immeasurably easier through his planning. He arranged for our transportation via the chief’s old, but roadworthy, 4 - wheel drive vehicles, our rooms along the way, and his mother to cook for us throughout our stay. Most importantly, we have made friends with a jewel of a human being and his wonderful family.
Upon landing we traveled through towns in complete and total darkness as Sierra Leone lost much infrastructure, such as electricity and telephone lines, during the war. We arrived at the ferry landing where we would cross the bay to Freetown at 1 am. Nobody had any idea when the ferry would arrive, but finally at about 5 a.m., we saw the lights of the ferry slowing crossing the water. We boarded and the party began! Drinks, singing, and comedy acts entertained us. We appeared to be the only really fatigued ones there.
When the ferry arrived the sun was coming up shedding light upon some of the most amazing sights of my life. Simply stated, we’d been dropped into the pages of a National Geographic magazine. Circa 1960. Or 1980. Timeless poverty in one of the poorest countries on the planet. Perhaps only the 2000-era music heard occasionally, the 2nd hand modern clothing for sale in piles on the street, or the sighting of a newer car would give the year away. Sierra Leone, where life expectancy is 37 years for men, 39 for women, the literacy rate is 50% tops, 7% are HIV positive, 5 of the 6 million inhabitants are below the poverty line and the infant mortality rate is 284 for every 1000 live births.
We traveled by car to the village of Sinkunia, in the Northern Province. The last 21 miles took 4 hours. You can imagine the conditions of the road. Greg remembers that in 1974 travel was much easier; goods and people came in and out of his village with regularity. No longer. The route is just too rough.
We arrived at the home of Paramount Chief Alimomy Lahai V (III was chief in 1974) in the afternoon amid much fanfare. Any friend of the chief’s, apparently, is a friend of the entire village. Only the children who were about 2 years of age objected! Obviously, their fear was developmental, and we were sorry for our whiteness, but couldn’t do a thing about it. The Chief’s house had about 6 rooms and housed many. How many? I don’t really know. However, what I do know is that as Chief his role is of mentor, guide, pastor, police and father to the entire chiefdom. He would house as many as needed and was able to accommodate.
We were welcomed that night with a band from Guinea playing VERY loudly for us and hundreds of Sinkunians well into the night. The chief danced, his wives (3) danced, and Sheiku finally danced at Greg’s invitation to dance with him. What a sight! Are you familiar with the “African shuffle”, as we call it?
As we traveled through the area with the Chief, we felt the love he has for his people. As his car makes its way slowly along the roads, people rise and wave, running to the window to shake hands with their Chief. Bowing slightly, resting their extended right hand on their left forearm as a sign of respect, or tapping their hearts gently. They love their Chief so it was like traveling with a rock star. Ok, sort of, minus the glitz.
We were given bolts of fine fabric woven for us, measured for African outfits, returning 3 days later to try them on. Greg was welcomed to the village by the Chief as he “held court”, as chiefs do. Apparently they were honored by our being there, amazed that we would travel such a long distance to visit their village. We were honored by their most incredible welcome.
We stayed in the Chief Lahai’s new, but as yet unoccupied home. Upon our late day arrival, I mentioned to Greg that I could use a bucket of warm water to clean up after a long, dusty day of travel. I thought I was fitting in perfectly, as I have done the bucket bath many times in my life and am just fine with it. Clare, Greg said, you do realize that if we want warm water someone must build a fire to heat the water?? OH. Over and over I was struck by the things I did not know. I did not know that there would be ONLY the Chief’s cars in the village. I did not know that the houses have no kitchens. The women cook out back over a fire, a dirt floored hut as a “refrigerator”. I did not know that these children beside me might not have a meal today if it were not for my leftovers. Why did I eat first then? I did not know that when I passed out granola bars or airline tubes of lotion that they would not eat them or use them because they were too special. I did not know that the Imodium we left could save lives. I did not know that the Chief would gather the teacher and the entire high school in their pressed (on the front porch with an iron heated on a pan of coals) uniforms even though it was vacation in order to receive the four (only 4!) books we brought for their school library. I did not know that every inch of the paper we brought would be happily drawn on by children who followed Lily everywhere. I did not know that learning to shuffle a deck of cards would be an exceptional pleasure to a teenage boy, that the “head boy” and “head girl” of the high school both want to become doctors so that they can return and help their parents and their village. I did not know that above ALL, the Chief thinks education is the key for his people. That 50 or 60 per classroom with ONLY chalk for materials would be standard. That “family” is a different, but wonderful, concept in Africa. I did not know that I would feel so safe among them that Lily attended a teenage dance with her Sinkunian friends. No phones, no cell phones, but no worry. That she would be returned to our house at the precise minute we had asked her friends to bring her home and that she would reply, upon being asked “How was the dance?”, that it was “just like” Linus Pauling (her school here in Corvallis). I did not know that Greg would cry when he arrived and was reintroduced to his village. I did not know that it would be absolutely true when Sheiku remarked about Greg at the airport when we left, “Mr. Smith is different now.“ True, all three of us are different now by virtue of our experience. I simply did not know.
I return from our trip with a head full of thoughts and the sights, sounds and smells of Sierra Leone. I also became aware that my resources of time, LIFEtime included, energy and money are finite. If Greg and I are to have impact beyond ourselves we must pass our experience and compassion on to others, particularly to those who have more of their lives left, our children.
I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed your “trip” to Sierra Leone through this letter. I wish you peace and happiness in your own home and beyond in 2008.
Love, Clare and Greg