Delayed due to fog

Toby and I are finally here. We arrived at Lunghi airport seven hours late due to fog at Gatwick, but we count ourselves lucky as yesterday’s flight only left a few hours before ours. So, after many strained phone calls, a hectic scrum to retrieve our food-stuffed bags and a half hearted interrogation from immigration about our intentions in the country, we are reunited with Greg and James who came out last week to make initial preparations for filming. It is 7am, so no time to sleep. Straight back to the Airport hotel for a shower and breakfast before heading into Freetown.

At the airport with Greg and James is also Murray, our lovely driver and FT, usually a Maths teacher in Kambia High School but for the purposes of our trip, a driver, fixer, beer delivery agent and all round amazing man. Nicknames are pretty common here and FT is apparently the sound his students make when he asks a mathematical question they can’t answer. It is also the sound we make when we are introduced to the vehicle. An ambulance that needs ‘light pushing’ to get it started. I feel like we are in Little Miss Sunshine.

For some reason the airport has been situated miles from Freetown across a stretch of open water and swamp. Greg and James had taken the helicopter when they arrived but due to our arrival time we had to opt for the ferry. A short drive takes us to the queue. It is six hours long so poor Murray gets the short straw and we go on ahead as foot passengers whilst he waits in line.

On board we are reunited with Ryan (a trail-mix munching American we met on the plane) and Brad, her boyfriend who is in US Military security here. He gives us each his card, should we need it. We pocket it carefully. The Ferry is a brilliant and vibrant mix of hawkers, travellers and the religious (upstairs the Christian singers, downstairs a Muslim preacher). I check out the lifeboats carefully as the other ferry and a hovercraft sunk recently. A few helicopters have gone down too. Getting to Freetown seems a dangerous business.

At the other side we pile into a taxi (four of us in the back) for a hot and slow ride across town to a supermarket. Freetown is incredibly busy because it is Christmas Eve and I struggle to take it in. Beautiful old buildings destroyed in the war sit next to shacks, piled high on the hill and streams full of rubbish. The supermarket, run by Lebanese is well stocked though and we pick up essentials (including Laughing Cow and Christmas Decorations), luxuries (a kettle and some lucozade) and an ice cream. We get properly ripped off buying vegetables outside then wait and wait and wait and wait for a taxi. Eventually we all pile in again, get pulled over by the police and almost arrested because there are too many of us in the back, and are eventually reunited with Murray and the truck.

I am told the drive to Kambia took four hours and the roads were like driving on the moon. Luckily I develop narcolepsy in all moving vehicles so I slept the whole way. We arrive late, eat and fall into bed.