Sure, the change in power no doubt brings hope to a nation and world that desperately needs it after eight years of George W. Bush. But more importantly, it was a shot in the arm for my social life.
I haven't really been out since New Year's Eve. Two weekends have come and gone with my brief leisure time taken up by reading feverishly and writing emails.
Which isn't actually a complaint at all. I've had a smile plastered to my face for most of the now commonplace 10 to 12-hour workdays, and the low-key weekends have been a welcome respite. But last night was a necessary reminder that drinking on beaches in perpetual summer is not a birthright, but a unique privilege that I have a moral imperative to take advantage of.
The day proceeded much like any other for the most part - working with journalists, editing scripts, and preparing audio files to ensure we had a news program. The fact it was Inauguration Day was made inescapable by the slew of Obama swag the city's populace was decked out in, but I'd already come to terms with the fact that I wouldn't be able to witness this piece of history live. The VCR back in Kitchener was set and I'd just have to make do with watching it five months late.
Or so I thought. I'd forgotten that one part of the Kalleone building has a TV. My newsroom grew pretty sparse as the time of Obama's speech neared.
These two facts were not unrelated.
Just before Biden took the Vice-Presidential oath of office, Tunge, a sturdy office assistant with a smoker's growl that hits its upper limits in the Chali 2na bracket, suggested I put my work on hold long enough to witness history. Ever the agreeable sort, I decided to indulge him.
It was an interesting place to take in the spectacle - not just as a point of comparison to what I could only assume were productivity-starved offices throughout North America, but also to my expat fellowship of Nov. 4. The reverent silence that fell as Obama delivered his victory speech on that night was traded for a more jovial ambiance, jokes and laughter occasionally causing me to miss a word or two.
Still, I was thrilled to be watching the speech live at all. And while I can't remember ever caring about the swearing-in of any previous President, I was struck by a few aspects of Obama's oratory, starting with his very first sentence:
I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors.
That the first sentiment Obama expressed as President was meticulously plotted to remind the world that he's not a Messiah and to temper the gargantuan expectations upon him was not lost on me, but I was more interested in his mindfulness "of the sacrifices borne by [their] ancestors."
To my (again, completely uninformed) mind, this seemed to be the first in a long string of references to those outside the American elite, references that I don't imagine pepper every Inaugural Address so plentifully.
Though this nod could be interpreted as a reference to the Founding Fathers and others of their ilk, I thought the phrasing employed more readily conjured images of former slaves. My colleagues did too, reacting strongly to this quick reference.
It wouldn't be the only time they connected with Obama's rhetoric, proof positive of his international allure as a politician.
And so to all the other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.
... because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve ...
To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds.
To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.
A couple Kalleone colleagues loudly echoed the lone word, "corruption", as if reinforcing the message for their own leaders.
It was a great speech, certainly, and re-reading the full text gave me the idea to use the Inaugural Address as a somewhat-unconventional example for a workshop on the importance of simple sentence structures in radio script-writing. I'm not above pandering to Sierra Leone's love affair with the 44th President, turns out.
Still, the overriding emotion I felt as the newly-minted Prez brought his remarks to a close was not that of soaring pride or inspiration, but relief. The Inaugural Address had met my only requirement: that Obama was still breathing to finish it.
Never one to underestimate the breadth of some people's ignorance, I was simply pleased to see the day come and go without a sniper's bullet throwing the whole world into disarray. Even during the speech itself, I had nightmarish visions of enraged young men in the streets of my adopted city, my expectation of what would happen if something went horribly wrong back in Washington.
Dodging back to the newsroom as soon as Obama finished his inspired address, I was met with a unique editing challenge. The station's local angle Obama story had been deemed so important that I was staring at the first piece written by the Station Manager, John, since I'd arrived.
Instead of cleaning up poorly-rendered English, I found myself confronted with overly ornate prose - and the dilemma of how thoroughly to edit my "boss" (though, technically, no one at Kalleone can claim this title, as JHR pays me, not them).
In the end, the hypocrisy of his two-page love letter to Obama, in light of his habit for frequently berating his young charges about the need for clear, concise writing, was too much for me. I slashed a couple superfluous paragraphs and cleaned up phrases like "In his powerful oratorical style, and looking handsome as ever ..." before handing the script to the day's presenter and catching a poda-poda home.
As I dropped my bag off at Smartfarm, my phone rang and John informed me that he'd listened to the newscast, while following along with the script he'd submitted. Busted, I thought to myself.
"I really liked what you did with it," John said. "It was a little rushed and I just wanted to thank you for your editing on it." The underlying purpose of the call seemed to be to assure me that he knew it wasn't perfect and could've improved it given more time.
The need for my approval struck me as odd but, pleased not to have offended, I grabbed a cab to DeVillage Beach Bar for "Obama-rama", a night of celebration hosted by Women in the Media - Sierra Leone, an organization that two of Kalleone's reporters, Mabel and Fatima, are heavily involved in.
Keeping with the theme of placing celebration above analytical contemplation of the day's events, in a country where Obama The Symbol is far more significant than Obama The World Leader, the party pumped all the same tunes that normally thudded from the bar's speaker system, eclipsing muted images of the day's events.
Nonetheless, the women of Kalleone seemed pleased I'd made an appearance and I was still able to make it to a club called Aces to meet up with Craig, Bremen, and my roommates for another Obama night party, this one featuring the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars.
The All Stars are Sierra Leone's most internationally famed musicians. If you asked a hundred random Canadians to name Sierra Leone's biggest musical act, you'd get 99 blank stares and one person who said the Refugee All Stars.
That modest acclaim is owed in large part to Zach Niles and Banker White, a pair of American filmmakers who followed the band's formation in a Guinean refugee camp following the war (and who almost moved into the house below me last month). Though I haven't yet had a chance to check out the doc, I've heard laudatory reviews from my roommate, Kevin.
Hilariously, despite their humble international reputation, the All Stars are generally met with lukewarm indifference in their home country. If you asked 100 Sierra Leoneans to name their nation's top musical act, I don't know how it would break down, but I know names like Kao Denero and the Dry Yai Crew would come up significantly more frequently than the All Stars.
On this night, the space in front of the stage was the least densely populated part of the entire club, and the All Stars were actually just the opener for a more popular band I'd never heard of.
Regardless, it was refreshing to hear live music that actually involved playing music live, and it was a great way to finish off a historic day.
1 comment:
Great Story...thanks for sharing and continuing to give a great insight on life in Sierra Leonne
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