CHAPTER 6
LANGA-LANGA LETTER TO LILIBET
“The Union Jack is being lowered, and the Green, White and Blue flag of the world’s newest nation raised. Sierra Leone has today become the 100th member of the United Nations, hip!-hip!-hip!… hurray…!!!
Charlie Haffner
MY DEAR LILIBET It is with mixed feelings that I sit and write you this missive, so many many years after you last visited Sierra Leone that we all now call “Mama Salone” I can still feel the exuberance from the day you arrived on 25th November 1961, until you departed on 1st December, the very 1961, not realizing that your goodbye was like forever. Even though you had gone, I never felt empty, because you left me with our elder Milton, from Mende, after Milton came his small brother, Albert. But Albert who caused the soldier to come, so they came. First Lansana, the brigadier from Mende. Then came the gbana one, Juxon, from Krio. Followed by Bangura, the other brigadier from Temne, who wasted no time, handing over to ‘’Shaki’’, from Limba.
Shaki too, when taking his exit, passed the baton to Momoh the first major general, also from Limba. One after the other they departed to the land of the forefathers. But it was Momoh who allowed the other guys to enter. First the one named “Sebanah” from Temne, who like your Grand old duke of York, had over ten thousand men, He marched them right from the top of the Mende Kambui, through the Wusum of the Temne, across the “Warawara of the Limba, and marched down to town. Yet, Sebanah was able to reach Momoh and get the baton.
Then entered those young soldiers, first the village grammar school Krio boy named Valentine, followed by the mende, though not an elder, yet called “Maada’, After young Maada, came in Tejan. Do you remember Tejan, that tall gallant learned barrister brother man from Madingo? Tejan wrote with his left hand. Momoh before him wrote with his left hand. So does Ernesto, who came after Tejan. Well. Tejan came in twice, interrupted by Paul, then bouncing back again.
Ah Lilibet, my good gracious, with 4 children – Charles, born in 1948, Anne, 1950, Andrew 1960 and Edward, 1964. Charles, my name’s sake, will be the next king after you. I knew that long ago and everybody knows.
Now Lilibet, tell me. Was it true that you did not want to become queen? Was it true that when you learnt that you were likely to become queen after your father, you prayed every night for a baby boy that would take your place? Ah… Lilibet, you make me laugh. You funny too much. Ha..ha,,ha… ha…..
Lilibet, in all these years, did you ever stop and think how you made independence difficult for us? First you demanded that we formed a united front that would bargain with you and your guys to determine whether we were befitting the independence we demanded. Remember? Then the independence talks at your London Lancaster house. Then the rumbling and the tumbling, the infighting, the rattling, the cat and mouse games, the unity, the split, the unity again,,, and then the rehearsals. Yet you did not make it to the independence ceremony on April 27, 1961. Rumours had it that you just had a new baby Andrew. Where is Andrew now?
For us, Mama Sierra Leoneans, we are divided. Some say we should celebrate and thank the almighty for just his sparing mercies. Others say we should not for lack of bread and butter. There are those of course, who don’t just care if we celebrate or not. But Lilibet, is it true that you were annoyed with Shaki for refusing to sign the Independence document, because he did not agree with the defense arrangement between Siera Leone and Britain? Shaki’s behavior to me, was just a show of guts, for one man to adhere so bravely, to his belief alone, at home and away.
Anyhow Lilibet, your cousin, the Duke of Kent, whom you sent to represent you did so very well. He proclaimed Sierra Leone’s independence at mid night on 26th/27th April. On your behalf, the duke handed over to sir Milton, in the house of representatives, the formal constitutional document effecting Sierra Leone’s transition from a British colony to a sovereign state. Sir Milton Margai became the first prime minister, and sir Henry Lightfoot Boston, from Krio the first Sierra Leonean governor general, replacing sir Maurice Dorman, the last British governor.
As this was happening, I remember John Akar, the first Director General of Sierra Leone Broadcasting Service (SLBS), who was running the live radio commentaries on the event that morning, as the people glued themselves to their home-based radio set known as ‘Kongosah box“. “The Union Jack is being lowered, and the Green, White and Blue flag of the world’s newest nation raised. Sierra Leone has today become the 100th member of the United Nations, hip!-hip!-hip!… hurray…!!!
Immediately the nation rose to its feet. And for the first time the band of the Royal Sierra Leone Military Forces poured out the newly composed national anthem to music composed by the very commentator himself, John Akar from Sherbro, with words by Christopher fyle from Krio.
Lilibet, I know your cousin gave you the complete rundown of events as they happened. He must have shown you photos of himself attending a boat race by teams racing in wooden boats, him in white uniform. inspecting a guard of honour mounted by soldiers, and him in a car waving to children along a crowded road in the countryside. I can still hear the various music in my brain and visualize the musical displays that dominated the airwaves from all directions:
Music of Independence.; music of unity freedom and justice. Music from the trombone of the military, the trumpet of the police, the banjo of Herman, the mandolin of Calendar, the accordion of Salia, the cries of Ali Ganda, the shegureh of Amie Kallon, the goombay of ‘’Peter-na-Lepet’’, the balangie of Foday Luseni, the shangba of Tamba Musa, the kondi of Bassie, the keleng of Lansana, the dundunba of Saidu Bah, the blow-blow of the bubu, the flute of Bra Simeon, the chants of Chris During and his Rokel River Boys, the piano of Geraldo Pino, the dynamics of Doctor Dynamite drums of Masokoloko. From the Milo jazz of Dr Oloh to the wailings of S.E Rogers, piercing the gramophone of Adenuga and Jonathan.
All amidst the spectacles of the jamama of wanjama, the Gongolie of Zimmi, the Mama kpara of Marampa Gbete, Gerefe, and nafale The bondo of small Bo, the Soko bana of Yoni bana, the Gbangbani of Bombali, Hunting of Wellington, the Ogugu of Orogu, the Okosha of Savage square, the Fairy of Kissy ferry. From the‘’Lord -a- Mercy” to the “Kaka dedul’’, to the “Tenteh of Ro Mankeh’’.From the Recreation grounds in the west, to Coronation ground in the south, Wusum in the north to Cacao show fields in the east.
Lilibet, S.E Rogers, known as ‘Rogie’. Do you remember Rogie? That dark hefty palm wine musician from Mende? Everyone thought he was your lover because he sang about you openly in his hit song, ‘’my lovely, Elizabeth” where he sobs openly that the Lilibet that he loved so well has been snatched from him.
Lilibet there is something I always wanted to ask you. Did Milton reveal to you why he chose April 27 as the date for independence? There were lots of rumours rolling in the air. Some say it was the founding date of the SLP Party, by sir Milton. the leader of the SLPP and the Independence Movement. Others say, it was the date that the chiefs in the rest of the country, took up their cutlasses and ‘’chakabulas’’ and joined Bai Bureh from Temne Loko in the hut tax war which he launched against the further spread of your colonial domination. Others say it was a combination of the two. Sure you must have heard of this famous no-nonsense anti British war hero called Bai Bureh. If you have not, check through your father’s memoirs. It happened in his time.
By the time you arrived in Freetown on that warm November 25th 1961, the nation was more than ready to accommodate you.
On your arrival to a 21 gun salute, we all watched the ship that you came by, called Britania, sailing from northern Atlantic ocean into the queen Elizabeth, deep water quay, named after you. On coming ashore, you were met by prime minister, sir Milton Margai. Then you inspected a Guard of honour mounted by the first battalion of the sl military forces which you inspected with your husband. Then you both drove on a special queen’s motorcade along the streets of freetown as people waved and cheered. .
Lilibet, I always recall your action when those Protectorate women came out in their grand buba, temulay, madingo docket and lappa, made from tye-dye gara, batik and brillion materials complete with gorgeous matching headties. The krio women also were in their specially designed cabaslot and kotoku ashobis of many colours, made from assorted print materials. Some I stepped-like petit coat named ‘’simplicity’’. By the way I overheard you saying to Philip: it is hot’’.
Provincial men poured out in gowns and shokoto, made out of colourful country cloth from the south east. The men from the north, in their Ronko gowns and shokoto made out of dark red country cloth. Colony men in shirt, gabbadin trousers, tuxedoes, west coats and ties, also came out discussing matters of independence.
I understand that you sampled as much of the variety of our dishes – the nation’s favorite cassava and potato leaves, groundnut stew, egusi palava and okra sauce sweet potato, koko-ebeh, funday, agidi and palm oil soup, beans akara, ginger cake and lots more. I heard that you also had ginger beer and jelly water, while Philip had a go at the God-to-man palm wine called poyo or “mampama”.
I heard that the women of Waterloo sent you fried fish and cassava bread. Bo women came with “gari’. Those of Hastings gave you mangoes. Bonthe women sent you coconut oil. Palm kernel oil came from Pujeun, honey came from Kailahun, and “Ruff’’ rice from Kambia, all as gifts to take home to your children, Charles and Anne.
Just last week, when I mentioned your name to my mother, she beamed with joy and her face lit up. She said she still has cherished memories of your handshake with the Prime Minister, Sir Milton Margai, when you came out of your Britannia ship. She recalled your drive to the Governor General’s residence at Fort Thornton, your presence at the military parade of the first battalion of the Royal Sierra Leone regiment, the children’s rally, the citizens’ parade, the mayor’s presentation of a golden key to you at Victoria Park, your husband’s visit to the construction site at Guma dam. The Sunday service you attended at St George’s cathedral, the degrees you presented at the university college, the state banquet and garden party given by the Prime Minister at his official residence. Even though it was decades and decades ago, my mother still remembers.
In Bo, the capital of the southern province, you visited the government hospital and the Bo school. You attended the state reception of chiefs, the national chiefs’ durbar. In the eastern province, you were present at the Kenema Agricultural Cacao show and witnessed diamond digging in Kono. In the northern province, you visited the iron ore works at Marampa mines in Port Loko. So, without discrimination, you paid homage to all the regions – west, south, east and north.
Things that you left that are still with us are: the Poro and the sokobana, the “Bondo”, the “Gbangbani”, the “wende”, the “Hunting” and the “Freemasons”, are still mingling among us.
Two things that you left that are no more are one: the railway. I mean the train and the song that the children sang, “Bo train wataloo” are no more. But the remains of the Queen’s coach, the one specially designed for your visit in 1961, is being restored. I went to see it at the newly established railway museum, where the Monument and Relics Commission, is keeping it safely.
The other that you left behind, but is no more, is the Double-Decker bus. Lilibet, did you know that when the two storied bus first arrived here in January 1955, it baffled people, including the bus drivers who went into hiding? My father told me that the Governor, Sir Maurice Dorman, government officials and other invited passengers, had all entered the bus and taken their seats for the maiden ride, but all the bus drivers had taken cover. The only one who not only did not hide, but jumped into the driving seat, started the double-decker and drove his passengers from Cline Town to Congo Cross and back was a Fula man named Abdulai Bah. Yes, a Fula-man was the first to drive the double-decker bus when it first arrived in Sierra Leone. As for the other vehicles you left behind, “Hillman”, “Prefect”, “Vanguard”, “Bedford”, “Morris” and “Austin”, have all been replaced by those of the family of the Japanese.
The Land Rover keeps going and coming. The board houses will soon be gone. The Roman Catholics, the Church missionaries, and Methodists are currently being bombarded from all directions by the new believers and custodians, who are busy changing the names you left behind from Isabella, Victoria, Christiana and Diana to Blessing, “Flavour”, “Miracle” and “Godswill”.
Paterson Zochonis (PZ), United Africa Company, UAC, British Petroleum BP, “King’s Way” are gone and forgotten.
My dear Lilibet, when on the 1st of December 1961, you should depart, it was difficult to come to the acceptance that the best of friends must part.
I can remember the whole nation in their variety of ways, bidding their farewell. “Malorway”… said the Mendes, “Orwayo’’…. Cried the Temne, “Masankaneh”, bellowed Limba and “Tata”, went the Krio.
The only lamentation was Rogie, your secret lover. whose voice was of pain and sorrow as he wailed over the rhythm of the electric guitar, they said you bought him. “Sweet Elizabeth, why did you go? Come back to your lovely Rogie, your lucky boy Rogie, don’t you listen whatever they may say, come back to your lovely Rogie”. But you did not budge. From Miltin to Albert, Albert to Lansana, Lansana to Juxon, Juxon to Bangura, Bangura to Shaki, Shaki to Momoh, you did not come. From
Momoh to Valentine, Valentine to Maada, Maada to Tejan, Tejan to Paul, Paul to Tejan again, Tejan to Ernesto, you did not come. Ebola came and took 10,000 souls and you have not come back, just to say “hi’’ or to find out what’s up.
Before I put my pen down, before I terminate,
I am
yours sincerely,
the name sake of your first born,
‘’Tali Afino’’, as Mama Sa Loneneans call me.
