Kamiendo

          After Bafodia we took our little party of me, Rita and Michael onward to Koidu-Sefadu, diamond capital of Sierra Leone and star city of the movie Blood Diamond.  Koidu is where Michael grew up and where his father stayed while the rest of the family fled back to Mali. We met with some of Michael old friends just as they were leaving the mosque from midday prayers. They invited us over to a rather large house with nice tile floors. The owner said, “It took three years to rebuild this house (after the war). Some people hid diamonds in their walls so every building, every tile on this floor, was smashed by people looking.”  

   From our base in Koidu we drove out early one morning in search of the Northern Kissi. We studied the map of Sierra Leone and asked local where they thought the true Kissi villages were located and then struck out again on the back roads of Sierra Leone.  We had a few key villages marked on our map and as we passed each one we tried to guess how long it would take us to get to the village called “Kissi Town” on the map… we figured that was a “nah duh” type of name and we should check there first. Somewhere along the way we lost our way and we stopped passing our marked villages. We stopped in a village and met with a chief to ask about the surrounding villages and if they knew where the Kissi were. After a talk and gift exchange, they told us they were primarily Kono but the very last village (Kamiendo) on this road was all Kissi. They warned us that we would not be able to go that far because the road was too steep just before the village. They suggested we stop at the next village up which was part Kono and part Kissi. Never tell Rita she can’t do something… it only eggs her on. In another 30 minute or so, we came to the infamous hill that blocked are road… they were right.  Rita didn’t care, she prayed out loud for God to push us up the mountain and then put it in gear and floored it. After rolling back down twice, the third time was the charm and God pushed us over the mountain.

 At the top of that hill was the most picturesque village that could be imagined. Dark brown roofs seem to be stacked on top of each other, each house perched snug on the hill. From one side of the village you could see into neighboring Guinea from the other a beautiful view of a Sierra Leone valley. The people here were happy to see us though we did not meet the Chief because he was out in his fields. They said they only see two vehicles at the most each month. Their village is so remote that they cannot even trade in Sierra Leone but have to walk on foot and then ferry across a river to trade at a Guinea market across the border, a woman displayed for us her Guinea Franc to prove the claim. Though the village is remote the people are far from simple, they have a functioning Catholic School and the local nurse was proud to give us a tour of their clinic. They had detailed records of all the sicknesses in their village. But they did not have any evangelical influence. My heart was sad to leave that pretty mountain with their enterprising spirit.  They were full of hope and potential and ready to move forward in their world. But I wonder who will come and teach them about our true hope and future. Those friendly faces, that loving teacher so proud of his classes. I saw, I loved and I left. Just a few hours in their villages, long enough to tour the school and the clinic and then back on the road again. As we left the teacher said to me, “Fatimata,” (That’s my African name). “You did not speak much today, next time you come you will speak a lot?” I hope so. I hope the next time I come I will have the pleasure of saying many things and that I will have the honor of introducing truth and light and other people who will continue to teach  our Father’s way.