Yellow Woman Part 2

The rumours were started, as is common, by one person reporting what “they” had said, heard and/or seen. “They”, was a mysterious group of people who seemed to know everything but was never available to provide the necessary details thereby maintaining a convenient anonymity. So “they” started reporting sightings of a mysterious lady prowling the streets and beaches of Goderich. “They” said that the “Yellow Woman” was a Spirit of the sea, who would come to land to, amongst other things, prey on men. She was described as incredibly beautiful, with long flowing hair and a light complexion. She was also supposedly an expert at luring men into her trap and sometimes killing them....

As the rumours spread, the neighbourhood became more on edge...people walking around in groups if they absolutely had to go outside at night. She dominated most conversations but in typical Sierra Leonean way, most people would make light of the terror they felt. They often cracked jokes about it and young men in particular would be told to “cam bak quick o, u know say Yellow Woman dae around”[Don’t be late, the Yellow Woman is around] as they ventured out at night. Since Yellow Woman’s victims were all men, the women were spared the terror and I believe they must’ve secretly enjoyed the hysteria that had spread amongst the men. Wives with wayward husbands would be sure that their men would be good as long as you-know-who was on the prowl...

The increased anxiety in the neighbourhood started getting to me after a man I knew reported an encounter with the spirit.  Pa Lansana, a middle aged man with a slight build and a fondness for sleeveless white vests, had worked on some small repair jobs at our house. He led a small group of builders and did everything from repairing our roof to rebuilding our exterior fencing after a storm had knocked it down. He was always a chatty type, engaging in friendly banter with his crew and those of us just hanging around the compound...

I came home from school one day and was surprised to hear that our “Yellow Woman” problem had been discussed on local radio. I was even more taken aback to hear that Pa Lansana had been interviewed as a “witness” and had described a quite terrifying encounter with the spirit. Apparently, he had woken up just before dawn to say his prayers at the local mosque and had met the spirit on the way. He allegedly had a duel of some sort with the creature...he recited verses from the Koran and the creature initially resisted, assuming weird shapes but eventually gave up and ran away. As my cousins related all this information to me, I naturally laughed myself to tears....This man had a unique way of expressing his stories and I really wished I’d heard the interview first hand.....

The whole thing was so fantastic and barely believable but yet came from a man that I knew was neither insane nor a liar...this troubled me somewhat. As the days went by, more encounters were reported and I gradually avoided walking outside alone... Darkness almost always meant I’d be home and not hanging out a friend’s place or with the neighbours or just chilling outside the compound on the side of the road...The Yellow Woman worried me in a way that the super natural had never before. I became genuinely terrified of walking down the poorly lit, dusty roads that made their way from our house all the way down the hills, to the shops on the edge of the ocean. This walk usually took around 10-15 minutes....

One night, in this climate of fear, i decided to take the “risk” of an encounter and go down to the stores to buy some food. The N.P.A (National Power Authority to some, No Power Available to most) had plunged the whole neighbourhood into darkness as was normal back then. A full moon was up though, bathing the houses and trees in a magnificent, ghostly grey light. On nights like these, you could pretty much see everything in what would otherwise be absolute darkness. This extraordinary lighting did create some unnerving shadows though, especially from trees. The gently swaying branches and leaves cast shadows that looked like monsters crawling on the dirt....

I took a few steps out of the safety of the compound...it must’ve been sometime after 8 p.m. but I’m sure it wasn’t very late at night. I took a left turn, getting on the street, which was deserted as expected. Our fence cast an ominous shadow on the left side of the road, and a long stretch of tall grass lined the other side for at least a hundred metres. The gentle breeze that was blowing moved the grass slowly...left, then right...as if someone was cutting a path through it. The road itself was pretty narrow and the usually reddish-brown dust had a beautiful grey glow.  I did a quick mental check to ensure I could call upon my spiritual protection should the need arise...I took a deep breath and started walking... [To be continued]

Yellow woman part 1

At 23 years old, i've lived a rather interesting life, lucky enough to travel and live in many different parts of the world and in vastly different cultures. From Africa, Europe and now North America, many neighbourhoods have shaped who i am today, but by far the most influential of these would have to be the little and oft derided fishing village of Goderich. Located in the suburbs of Freetown, it is about an hour's drive from the city centre even though it was probably only 10-15 kms away. Like most of Freetown, Goderich was built on the edge of the Atlantic, with most residents including myself, not more than a half hour's walk from the ocean. It is a sprawling area of mansions and corrugated zinc shacks or “pan bodies”, an army base, a college and a quarry. Even though most consider it a part of Freetown, it is technically outside the city limits. This may explain the appaling state of the road that leads to Goderich from Freetown. For many years i had to endure the teasing of class mates when we'd be dropped off at school with our car covered up to the headlights in mud. For years, i had to be extra careful not to let the windows down as we laboured through the 5 or so kilometres of torturous dirt road. To do so would risk getting to school with brown eyelashes and a dirty uniform. In the rainy season we'd have to carefully navigate the trenches created by poor drainage (to call them pot holes would be an understatement). In the dry season, visibility was minimal as drivers raced each other to avoid being caught behind a massive plume of dust. So much dust would accumulate on the side of the road, that whenever you returned from a stroll, you were forced to wash your feet.

Sure, Goderich had and probably still does have major infrastructural challenges but  also possesses its own unique charm. From the bay area, where local fishermen sold their goods to the foot of the hills where huge compounds and massive houses remain a common site. The local palm wine selling shacks or “poyo bars” were juxtaposed with fancy villas and compounds. Wealth and abundance stood shoulder to shoulder with extreme poverty. It was a common sight when walking on any street to see young men hanging outside the pan bodies having a drink, chatting up the girls that sold oranges on the street. These girls would have the oranges neatly peeled on a little cloth covered tray. The oranges would be arranged in threes or twos.."three for two block" they would enthusiastically offer...Older gentlemen, often shirtless would be playing checkers under the evening sun, chewing roasted peanuts and sharing their words of wisdom on everything from politics to football...

Close by, you'd probably have kids kicking a ball around hoping to be the next Mohamed Kallon or Junior Tumbu or J.J Okocha etc etc.... As we got older and european football fever invaded the country, nicknames like Gerrard and Van Nistelrooy became the norm... In the evenings you'd see the "big men" in the neighborhood being driven in their tinted, Air-conditioned SUVs...some were back from a hard day's work, others returning from chilling with their boys at China House...It was a simple existence, the few who had jobs going about their business, the many who were not so fortunate hanging around dreaming, praying ( to Jesus and Allah), hoping for a better future. Despair is not the Sierra Leonean way and somehow people always kept their hopes alive and a smile on their faces.

In those days, only two things could alter the average Sierra Leonean's laissez-faire approach to life, a rebel invasion and...THE UNDERWORLD. Yes you read it correct.The world of spirits inhabiting humans,owls and other animals...witches/wizards hitching rides at night to America in groundnut shells and returning before dawn...curses and charms, love potions...the whole nine yards. Underworld fever at one point had the whole city in near hysteria...it was what everyone talked about...Tales of witches confessing or “prooving” as they referred to it were everywhere.

It all made for fantastic stories but ever the skeptic, i never quite bought into them.... I often dismissed them as the product over an over-active imagination...after all i thought...Sierra Leoneans are masters at spinning stories from nothing. For months my views stayed the same until the “Yellow Woman” hit Goderich....[TO BE CONTINUED]

Allow me to introduce myself...

This is hopefully the first step in a journey that will help me carve out a little corner for myself in this vast ocean of bloggers and commentators. I will be sharing my views on the issues that matter most to me in global politics. I will also share stories and reflections on my life so far including my triumphs and failures, hopes for the future etc etc. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to add comments,negative or positive... i hope to use them to grow as an individual and a writer.