The Gulf…
I’m genuinely upset, because my day started off with an innocuous message and ended with an existential crisis.
How it started.
I had made a promise to myself when I left Freetown after my cousins wedding that I would not involve myself in “Sierra Leone madness” ever again.
Context, I was born and raised in the UK and whenever I see family I see them as a responsibility, I see them as a burden not as people who love me because there has never been any love and care on their side. The main excuse is that I was born and raised in the UK, which is why I didn’t get Christmas and birthday cards, as a child (once my grandad died) it was why no one called me when my dad died nor when I got married the first time I didn’t receive culturally appropriate gifts (I got a questionable plaque from my grandmother, because its too much to ask for to have a grammatically correct gift from your grandmother) and unsewn pillowcases from one aunt. Nothing from the other half a dozen aunts and uncles….
I promised myself upon my return that that was my last straw. I am a finisher, so there were 2 things I would finish in Sierra Leone before I rolled up the carpet on love for that country.
My cousin Darlene (whose wedding I attended) was arriving in the UK in June (she’s here now) I promised I’d pay for her hotel room when she went to Manchester to complete her exams. She was unaware of this promise, but a promise is a promise.
My sponsored child Isaac is a Sierra Leonean. World Vision finishes their work in Sierra Leone in 2025, so I will sponsor him until they pull out.
So it is in the fulfilment of this first promise that I took upon myself. I arranged Darlene’s transport from Heathrow airport to my mum’s house on her trip to and from England, I booked a hotel for her in Manchester and got another cousin, Mark, who drives my car free of charge, to drive her there.
I even went the extra mile, the day she arrived in the UK, I left work immediately at 5pm so I could make it to my mum’s house to welcome her. Not promised but delivered. Ditto with attending a BBQ the Saturday afterwards to welcome her. I bought her deodorant and Malteaser’s to help her when she arrived in the UK. So I am not wicked, I have been kind.
So here’s where I got annoyed.
Mark dipped out of taking her to Manchester. He didn’t tell me, just my mum, even though it was me who had arranged everything. I was the one who’d asked him and said I would book him a hotel room and pay for petrol so that she could have a smooth journey.
As a result my mum booked a coach to get Darelene to Manchester. Considering she’s never been on UK public transport before and the first time you’re asking her to do it is the day before her PLAB exams I thought that was cruel and the whole point of making Mark drive her and paying for a hotel was so she’d have no stress and pave an easy way for her because this is her “Go big or go home” “8 mile” “loose yourself” trip. For her, there is no plan B. I was annoyed because he didn’t speak to me. He just folded and expected others to pick up the slack when everyone had provided him with every luxury.
So I message my cousin Darlene to say “are you okay? Have you test driven UK public transport before we send you quite literally halfway across the country to Manchester for your exams?
(the actual text was “hey, how are you, have you tired UK public transport yet?”)
So my cousin says yes she went to a place I’ve never heard of, on a bus. Then she starts talking about me taking her out….
And I didn’t want to commit because of promise one. I’d already done my duty and then some. I don’t have to do any more. That’s what discharging your duties means.
Plus my family had done absolutely nothing for me when I went to Freetown so why was I expected to be the bigger person and take everyone else out. Why is it that they weren’t obligated to show me kindness first, earn my trust and loyalty? I got upset.
I realised what happened. Darlene is the Darling of the family, in the family she is the most cherished and loved, when she wanted to go to medical school the whole family rallied round… When my dad died I didn’t even get a phone call. When she got married everyone paid hundreds of dollars for outfits and contributions to the wedding. When I got married I had someone give me unsewn pillowcases and a grammatically incorrect plaque. There was a gap. And she was pointing out where she stood and where I stood. When I went to Freetown I believed my mother’s lies and excuses for her family that they couldn’t do more for me because they were busy with the wedding. The bride’s mother was busy with the wedding, my mum’s little sister cooked for one of the receptions (yes there was more than one) on the Saturday wedding (day 3 of 3) so she was busy on the Friday. But other than that, no one else was busy. No one else did anything other than contribute financially towards the wedding. So they weren’t “busy” with the wedding, they attended the wedding. They were guests. They had to get themselves ready but nothing more than that.
Also I was in Sierra Leone for 13 days, the wedding was over 3 days. What is the excuse for the other 10? (by the way one of those days was Christmas day) but I would hear time and time again. “Oh next time you come we’ll do etc…” I’m literally here right now and tomorrow isn’t promised, why are you waiting 3 years (at best) for me to come again? And who said when I come next time it will be more convenient for you? You get what you are given in life and if it was important to you that I like Sierra Leone, you’d make an effort, if it was important to you that I get to know you, you’d visit me or take me somewhere. But it wasn’t important enough, the wedding was more important. I was in Sierra Leone for the first and last time and I was met with excuses which I didn’t even clock were excuses until my mum didn’t give me the same grace I’d had to give my family.
It hurt. It hurt to have it pointed out that other people get treated better than me and that they are used to being treated well, and meanwhile it is my place to give but not to receive. There were too many excuses when I was in Freetown, nobody took it as their responsibility to make sure I had a good time. I went to a wedding, I didn’t judge them for their lack of care towards me and I made it okay that they didn’t take care of me my entire life. In return I wanted to be out of there and not go back because I gave them a chance to make my trip memorable, I gave the entire family 25ish adults, an opportunity to make it a trip of a lifetime. Sierra Leone has so much history, did anyone take some time to spend with me on an afternoon and tell me? Who is Milton Magay? Do I know? Do you know that I know? There was a civil war in my lifetime, what was that like? Who knows? How did grandma and grandad meet? So much is lost, becuase I am expected to make all the effort, if I don’t think of the questions to ask, I won’t have them answered. Always the responsibility is on me to make a relationship.
The first excuse is that I grew up too far from them so they couldn’t do anything for me, I said okay.
Then when I was in their city they said that there was a wedding on. I said okay.
When the wedding was over they said “oh next time you come, we’ll do XYZ…” I said okay. There will be no next time. God willing.
There is always an excuse. Never any action. Like I said, I’m not mad because Aunt X or Uncle Y didn’t do something specific. Its that NONE of them did anything. Not one. So I don’t even know what to they were meant to do. How would I know what the love of an uncle or an aunt is if I have never experienced it? That is the gap I feel. Darlene knows what love is and so recognises its absence. I do not and so can’t tell you what is missing.
That’s what hurts. The bit I can’t ever get my hands around because its not my responsibility to fill in that gap. It was theirs, they were meant to love me and they didn’t and now I don’t actually know what I’m missing. I know the concept that they’re meant to enrich my life in some ways. But I don’t know how because I’ve never experienced it. So they screwed up and I am the one that suffered for it. I’m actually not sure which is worse. The abject wickedness of my father’s side of the family or the negligent treatment of my mother’s.
Its sad.
That’s the gap.
Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith.