Within five minutes of landing in Freetown I’d made three new friends, all of who urged me to remember them once I’d gone. “Don’t forget your good friend,” said the woman who change my dollars into Leones. “Don’t forget your good friend,” echoed the chap who insisted on carrying my bag 10 feet from the airport to the taxi. “Don’t forget your friend,” whispered the man who opened the door for my taxi – not the taxi driver, just the guy who opened the door.
Every country seems to have its own language for asking for a bit of money. In Kenya rarely a day goes by without a parking attendant, traffic cop or security guard saying to me, “give me a soda” or “give me lunch”.
The Sierra Leone way seems nicer, I think.