The first weekend in Port Loko, May 24th and 25th, was less a relaxing break and more a high-speed, slightly bewildering blur of relax, work and preparation. Aud’s and I spent most of it huddled in our cozy room, discussing a strategy for the impending week.
I’ll be honest, I felt like a fish out of water. I’m a conservationist, an educator, and a former chef roles where I felt confident. This, however, is our first true high-level managerial role, and it’s happening in a country I’m navigating for the very first time. There’s a distinct feeling of being suddenly out of your depth, where you’re trying to look professional and decisive while your brain is secretly screaming, ‘I don’t know anything about Mangroves! What is a state of the nation report?!’ It’s a wonderful, scary cocktail of imposter syndrome and intoxicating excitement.
The Tracks to the River
But first, we needed to get our bearings, so we ventured out for a walkabout in the local neighbourhood. The office is located near the edge of Port Loko, where the dirt roads give way to winding tracks. We followed one of these toward the river, passing house after house. Almost everywhere you looked, men, women, and kids were bent over some quite extensive garden plots, busy digging, hoeing, and putting in serious, back-breaking work under the brutal morning sun. It’s a humbling sight, reminding us of the effort that goes into every meal here. We finally found a nice spot by the river for a bit of quick birdwatching, but the heat was relentless, reaching 35C and that’s only 11h00. We made a quick, sweaty retreat back to the relative cool of the compound.
My Two Loves: Gardening and Food
At heart, I’m an educator and conservationist, but running a close second are my two great loves: gardening and cooking. Funnily enough, this job, focused on mangrove restoration alongside many other activities, one of which is improving local agricultural practices, is absolutely perfect for a chef-gardener. It’s a dream role where science meets the soil, and the soil meets the plate!
The only logistical problem? Our office home has no actual cooking nor refrigeration facilities. There is the convenience of the MJ Hotel just five minutes away, but my mind was fixed on the local foodstuffs. So, with a mission in mind, I enlisted Morlai, one of our security guys, for a trip to the market. Not because I felt I needed security, but Morlai enjoys cooking, so I’ll be leaning on his local expertise. Plus he’s genuinely just a very happy guy and it’s a good opportunity to get to know him.
The Opoto Goes to Market
The market is about a 3km stroll away. Morlai suggested to make this trip at midday, when the temperature was pushing the high 30Cs, but that’s when the market gets going, I arrived feeling thoroughly toasty… because yes, I insisted on walking, again to get a feel for the local surroundings.
Then we hit the centre, and the heat instantly became a secondary concern. The Port Loko market is an absolute, glorious sensory overload! The sights, the noise, the smells it all hits you at once. Forget fancy air-conditioned supermarkets; here, every single edible item is displayed on rickety tables down narrow alleys, often under low corrugated iron roofs held up by rickety sticks. Mountains of chillies, vibrant leafy greens like Krin Krin, potato leaves, and cassava leaves, and groundnuts by the ton. The fresh meat stalls (mostly chicken and fish) keep their inventory in iced cool boxes, bringing out samples at a time displaying them proudly on wooden tops. By midday, some stalls have a certain aroma, but honestly, that’s just the raw reality and adaptability required when electricity isn’t a given.
It was kind of like a foody treasure hunt with Morlai as my ever grinning and laughing guide. Hidden amongst the vegetables are stalls selling exotic treats like mayonnaise, tins of sardines, and long-life luncheon meat, wonderful little discoveries that feel like winning the lottery.
It was an experience, and I won’t lie, I felt the eyes of the entire centre of Port Loko on me for those few hours. It’s not common for non-Sierra Leonean folks to wander through the inner market streets, they usually stick to the hotels. I stand-out out a mile with my pale skin and long wavy golden (kind of) locks of hair and I was constantly reminded of this with shouts of “Opoto!”
The term ‘Opoto’ in Sierra Leone just means ‘white person’ or ‘foreigner.’ Crucially, it’s rarely derogatory, it’s simply a descriptive noun,.. Yes,… a shouted observation that I hear a lot, like pointing out the obviously tall person. It’s part of life here, and I am the most recent novelty to hit this town. Morlai, with his endless smiles and laughter, interpreted where necessary, and with a mix of broken English and dramatic mime, I managed to secure a few goodies: a jar of mayonnaise, cucumber, tomatoes, bread rolls – they bake some beautiful bread here!!! …and those precious tins of sardines. I’ll be here a lot, shopping, so everyone better start getting used to seeing me strolling around, this is my first step to start integrating myself into the Port Loko community… I use the ‘integrating’ term loosely, but hey, you have to start somewhere.
Executive Powers for the Garden
Back at the office, I spied something magical: a huge stack of plastic propagation trays. The joys of being the General Manager of an agricultural-based company! I immediately used my new executive powers to requisition a couple for my own projects.
Gardening, even on a small scale, is vital for my wellbeing. It’s incredibly therapeutic, the focus and rhythm of working the soil provide a fantastic mental reset. It’s also deeply satisfying to take control of what you eat, knowing those homegrown crops. I have seeds for beans and tomatoes, are truly organic, especially when food sources are unpredictable. It will be the perfect challenge to figure out what flourishes in this tropical hotspot.
The rest of the weekend was spent relaxing, lizard spotting, and prepping for the work that lay ahead. Every hour Monday morning gets closer… and closer…
Summary of the Weekend: I successfully survived the managerial imposter syndrome, acquired a glorious amount of mayonnaise, and earned the nickname ‘Opoto’ several dozen times. I’ve discovered the brutal beauty of the Port Loko market and, most importantly, secured the starter trays for my own therapeutic agricultural side-project… and the clock is ticking for Monday!