Wusum Hill

In my first week in Salone (Krio rendering of Sierra Leone), two of my JHR colleagues, Craig and ABJ (Abu-Bakarr Jalloh), expressed interest in climbing the "mountain" - which is actually called Wusum Hill - in Makeni, Sierra Leone's fifth-largest city and the only one outside of Freetown where JHR has volunteers stationed.

It's probably no secret that one of my favourite activities is climbing, so I clearly needed no persuading. In fact, I quickly took the lead on organizing the trip to make it happen on the ASAP and this past weekend was the date we settled on.

My excitement to get out to the provinces must have been plainly evident, as ABJ confided to me Saturday night that he had seriously considered pulling out of the trip when his girlfriend, Jane, decided she needed to stay home to work, but he was too afraid of disappointing me.

In a stroke of good fortune, Steve, a friend of Kari and Craig's and an American lawyer in the appeals division of the Special Court for Sierra Leone, kindly agreed to give us transportation to and from Makeni - even though he'd never met any of us (ABJ, Patrick, Bryna and I). When I witnessed just how cramped the conditions were on the overloaded poda-podas we would've otherwise taken, I appreciated the gesture exponentially more. You can't see it, but the inside of this vehicle is just as overloaded as the exterior.



And then there was this guy, who was so desperate for space on this poda-poda that he rode on the roof with precious little to grab hold of if the vehicle below him hit a bad pothole. Lucky for him, the three-hour drive to Makeni is the best road in all of Sierra Leone.


We also saw one guy sitting in a partially open trunk, with only his legs in the vehicle. (Admittedly, a part of me thought it looked like fun.)

Anyway, we made it to Makeni without any difficulties and after a quick tour of Craig and Kari's place, headed to Ibrahim's for dinner and drinks. The trip to the bar would highlight one of the most obvious differences between Makeni and Freetown, and it was a matter where Makeni holds much greater allure: transportation.

There is almost no traffic in Makeni, a welcome reprieve from the gridlock of Freetown, and you can get anywhere in the city of just over 100,000 people for Le 1000 (about $0.30). But you do so on ocadas, or motorbikes.

Until Friday, I'd never ridden on any type of motorcycle in my life, nor had I had any real desire to. Now I do. There is a definite rush in riding through the dirt road paths, dodging through the gutted hills and valleys that so often pass for roads here, as we did on our way to one of the country's most lavish buildings, Wusum Hotel, and its affiliated bar, Apex, on Saturday night. In a city without electricity, cooling down while in transit instead of baking in the sauna-like taxis was a novel concept as well, and one I appreciated greatly.

The weekend of fast, comfortable transportation has me seriously considering using the ocadas in Freetown, but I imagine I'll mostly be dissuaded by the cost. Whereas I'm currently getting home in the mobile nightclubs that are poda-podas for Le 800, an ocada would cost me at least Le 3000, which is emblematic of the generally inflated cost of living in Freetown compared to the provinces.

Craig and Kari pay $50/month in rent, compared to my $200. My ancillary costs include guards, electricity and water; their guards are included in the rent, and they don't get water or electricity. This, of course, comes as no shock. Toronto, Vancouver and Montreal cost more to live in than St. Agatha, Brigden and Beamsville. I'm a city kid and I always will be, so Freetown suits me just fine.

It was interesting, in addition, to hear about a general disdain for Freetown by a number of the Makeni folks I met. I suppose disliking the metropolis is a fairly universal urge as well.

Besides, I imagine if I were stationed in Makeni, I would be spending a lot more money on drinking, as the bars are often the only places with power. On Saturday night, in the process of fulfilling my promise to ABJ to showcase my moves on the dance floor, I had my most costly night out since arriving in SL.

After a delicious dinner courtesy of Steve and his partner, Anna, in which I feasted on a pesto penne, our crew made our way to the aforementioned Apex. Craig and I decided to quickly down a small bottle of 18% wine that bore an unfortunate resemblance to cough syrup, and our next drink would make that seem like a treat.

Feeling rather full, I didn't want beer, so I ordered a local whiskey and cut it with coke. Craig more stoically had his straight, but after a few sips tried to explain to the bartenders that it must be a bad batch. I agreed. It was the worst whiskey I've ever had.

But the bartenders laughed and convinced Craig that the only solution was to chug it. He did, and promptly made an involuntary offering of the vile substance to the porcelain gods. Halfway through my own drink, that was persuasion enough for me to fork out the cash for the Jack Daniel's and my enjoyment of the night increased sharply as a result.

Still, it was an expensive night. In between getting my groove on to surprisingly positive reviews and chatting with the brother of Ernest Bai Koroma - Sierra Leone's current president, who was born in Makeni and still visits about twice a month - ABJ and I managed to outlast our friends by a good couple hours, closing the bar down at 4:30 a.m. Evidently, my love for the late night is not restricted to Eastern Standard Time.

But of course the Makeni trip was not solely about partying. There was that little business for which we came: bringing Wusum Hill to its metaphorical knees. That didn't transpire exactly as anticipated, however.

ABJ had already informed us all that Wusum Hill was not an easy trek. While not especially high, it is a demanding climb, thanks to the upper half of the hill being a consistent 65-70 degree incline.


In retrospect, tackling the task in the heat of the midday sun, fueled by insufficient water supplies and a sense of misplaced bravado, was perhaps folly on our part. But that's precisely what we did.

We made it to the top relatively quickly, the whole climb taking a little under an hour. At that point, I decided to scamper atop a rock formation near the peak, cutting my hands in the process, nearly losing my sunglasses in between a rock crevice and exhausting myself unnecessarily, as seen here.


More worrisome, however, was ABJ. He became quite ill atop the mountain, perhaps the lingering effects of a recent bout with malaria that had left him hospitalized for four days. Kari, ABJ and I thus quickly descended to get him some more water and some shade, at which point he recovered quickly.

When we reached the bottom, we were met by a swarm of local children, who were more than happy to pose for this photo. My favourites are the older kid with the gray hoodie, who returned my water bottle to me when I left it unattended briefly; the kid with the tire, who could amuse himself at great length by chasing it about; and the one on the far right, striking as good a gangsta pose as ever there was.


All in all, it was a taxing start to the day, but the views (see below) were more than sufficient to justify the rigourous ascent, which I'm convinced would be tremendous training for any aspiring NFL running back. Doing the climb even twice a month would be enough to have me in peak base-stealing form for the start of ball season.


So, that was Makeni. Next up: Mount Bintumani, elevation 6,381 feet.

... Maybe I'll bring more than one water bottle for that one.


Editor's note: Sorry for the absurd length of this post. I'll try to write shorter posts with more frequency in the future, but my recollection of the weekend in Makeni was cumulative rather than topic-specific. And I haven't had enough electricity to get this one up as early as I wanted to.