As my eyes began to focus, I began to make out my surroundings. I had no idea where I was.

All I
knew was that I was no longer on a plane heading towards my vacation destination. It was too warm
and too quiet to suit me. As my head began to clear, I began to move around. I sat up, and finally
noticed that I was not trapped in a net, but was tangled in the lines of my parachute. But where did I
get the parachute? Did the plane crash? Finally, I remembered the pilot recommending that all of the
passengers put on parachutes and prepare for a dive off of the plane. There must have been a
problem.
A strange bird call brought me back to my surroundings. Remembering what happened would not
change what had to be done. I had to get help, so that I could return home. My family would begin to
worry about me, if they heard that I was missing. As I untangled myself from the parachute, I dug
around in my pockets. I must have slipped my wallet into my pocket before jumping from the plane. I
opened my wallet and was relieved to see $200.00. No one had found me or else they would have
taken my money. I tried to stuff the parachute back into the bag, but I could not get it to fit, so I
removed the parachute from the pack. I was beginning to sweat. Where ever I was, it was hot. I took
off my sweatshirt and sweat pants, relieved that I had thought to dress in layers. Now, I had two sets
of clothes, my shorts and polo shirt and my sweats. I put my extra clothing into my parachute pack
and put it on my back. It was time to move on.
I stood up too soon, and I fell right back down. As my eyesight faded in and out, I decided to stay
seated on the ground until I felt like I could stand up without fainting. It was then that I realized how
hungry and thirsty I was. While I waited to stand up again, I looked up at the sky. The sun was
beginning to set. I only had a couple of hours to find a place to sleep for the night. I tried not to panic.
I attempted to stand up again, and this time I made it. Now that I was standing, I could see farther.
There were puddles everywhere. At first I thought that it was a mirage, so I approached one of the
puddles, reached down, and put my hand in it. I was greeted by a lukewarm wetness. Unfortunately
for me that was the biggest mistake of my entire trip. Little did I know that the female mosquitoes
waiting in that puddle were ready to suck some of my blood in exchange for their saliva. I swatted
away as many of the diving torpedoes that I could, but I knew that I had been bitten. Bumps began
to pop up all over my arms and legs. As the mosquitoes had begun to bite me, I began to run north,
in an attempt to get away from the mosquitoes. The terrain I covered was easy for walking and it
appeared that I was on top of a plateau (Sierra Leone). As I continued north, the sun began its
descent, and the temperature began to drop. I passed many fields that looked like rice plantations
(Kabala, Sierra Leone). After several hours, I saw a group of buildings up ahead. As I approached
the collection of buildings, my stomach growled.
The first person I saw was African American. I had guessed right. It appeared that I was in Africa. I
approached the woman and greeted her. I began to ask her questions about where I was, however
she just kept repeating, I be Sorie. I pressed further for more information, and she gestured that I
follow her. I picked up one of her baskets and fell in step. She led me into the gathering of buildings.
The streets are lined with markets selling fruits, vegetables, cloth, and much more (Kabala, Sierra
Leone). Most of the buildings are made of salvaged tin and brick. Four buildings stuck out from the
houses. They appeared to be two mosques and two school buildings (Kabala, Sierra Leone).
These buildings seemed to be the best buildings in the town. Sorie led me into one of the small tin
and brick huts. It took my eyes a while to adjust to the darkness in the house. At first I saw five
sparsely dressed children lying on the floor of the home. Then I noticed the sparseness of the home.
There was no real furniture or beds, no windows, and no flooring. As soon as we entered the house,
the oldest child awakened, saw Sorie with me, and stood up. He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. It
was rough and worn even though he was probably only ten or eleven years old. Again, I attempted

to make conversation. This time I had more luck. Welcome to Kabala, Sierra Leone. I be James.
So I was in Sierra Leone. Wow! So far from home, and I only had $200.00! Sorie and James invited
me to stay at their home for the night, and I gladly accepted. Even with the dirt floor, it was better
than outside in the street. It did not look like a very safe place to sleep.
The next morning, Sorie gave me some liquid that may have been a substitution for soup. I did not
care what it was. I slurped it down. That was the first meal I had had in days. After breakfast, I said
goodbye and headed out to explore the town and find more people who could speak English. I
decided to start at the schools. Here, I visited one classroom and attempted to talk to the teacher.
She was able to speak in broken English. She told me that there was transportation to an airport, a
bus that left from Kabala (Hicks, Questions about Sierra Leone). She also gave me broken
directions to the bus station. After thanking the teacher, I left the school and followed her directions.
After several wrong turns and more attempts to speak to others, I finally made it to the bus stop.
There were about 30 people waiting for the bus (Hicks, Questions about Sierra Leone), so I figured
that the bus would be quite large. However, when the bus pulled up, it was actually a rusty,
dilapidated van that sputtered and choked into view (Hicks, Questions about Sierra Leone). As I
climbed in, I wondered if the van would make it to the next stop. I sat with five other people on one
seat. Because it was warm, it did not take long for the van to begin to smell vile. The other people in
the seat accepted the scent and were content to just sit back and attempt to sleep. I just
concentrated on keeping my breakfast in my stomach as the van bounced form pothole to pothole
(Kabala, Sierra Leone).
By the time, the van stopped for what appeared to be a security check (Waldie), it was around 2 p.m.
My head felt three times its size, and I was shivering. I figured the headache was from the journey,
but I was confused as to why I was so cold. As I was thinking, someone came around collecting
money. Before handing anyone my money, I asked if anyone could speak English. One man
responded brokenly. I asked how much the van ticket cost. He said 30,000 Leones (Hicks, Fwd:
James Response). I noticed that he had a cell phone, and I asked to borrow it. Using the phone, I
figured out the cost of the trip in American dollars. It was $10.00 (Hicks, Fwd: James Response). I
paid the security men and sat back down for the rest of my journey. With only $190.00, I entered
Makeni, a town 80 miles southwest of Kabala (Kabala, Sierra Leone), Sorie, and James.
When I got out of the van and breathed in the fresh air, I decided to stretch my kinked legs and
explore Makeni. The first thing that I noticed was UN troops. Everywhere I looked I saw groups of
them. I approached one of the troops and asked if they spoke English. I was relieved to hear Yes. I
asked if they for any extra food or extra supplies such as a water container that I could buy. They
provided me with a warm meal and a canteen. I thanked them warmly and left $8.00 for their
generosity and advice. Now I had $182.00. I also found out from the troops that I should travel to
Freetown, Sierra Leone, where I could get access to a bank and a ferry to Lungi International Airport
(Traveling).
In order to find cheap transportation and a way to warm myself up, I looked around for a bicycle. I
walked up and down the streets until I finally found a boy riding on a bike. When I gave the boy
$2.00 for his bike, his eyes lit up. I hopped on and peddled down the road towards Freetown. The
road was similar to the road that the van had traveled on earlier. The potholes and loose dirt made
the road an obstacle. It seemed that I was always steering the bike from yet another hole. According
to the UN troops, Freetown was just shy of 90 miles from Makeni (Facts and Figures). I figured on
traveling 20 miles a day. The rest of the afternoon and evening I spent peddling. By dusk, I had put
about 10 miles behind me. I had peddled hard, and I was not sure I could keep up that pace for the
next four days. When I stopped for the night to eat some food that I had purchased at the

marketplace in Makeni, I noticed that my head still felt three times its normal size and my skin was
on fire. I knew that something was wrong. There was no turning back. I had to get to Freetown.
By the third day of bicycling and sleeping on the ground, my body ached, my throat and head
burned, and I felt like quitting. By the fifth day of riding, only the knowledge that I was approaching
Freetown kept me peddling. By the time the sun was high in the sky, I was sweating from the
physical exertion, yet it felt to me like it was 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside. For lunch, I stopped for
water and some food that I had bought from a farm wife. Besides rice, I made out some vegetables,
but I really did not want to know what they were. After several days of sleeping on the ground, I was
covered in mosquito bites. Everything that I did made me want to scratch and scratch. My arms,
legs, and face were swollen with bites. At least when I was peddling, my hands were on the
handlebars, and I could not give into the temptation. It was nice to sit back on the bicycle again
because it gave me something to think about. As I had been approaching Freetown, the terrain had
begun to slope down (Sierra Leone). This made my part a lot easier and the miles seemed to
speed past. By nightfall, I had made it to the outskirts of Freetown. One more night plagued by
mosquitoes by the side of the road, and I entered Freetown with $170.00.
Freetown seemed immense compared to Kabala and Makeni, but I was too exhausted and weak to
be too impressed. The first person I saw, I approached and attempted to talk to him. I asked where I
could have money wired to me. The man actually understood me and directed me towards
Glouchester Street (Sierra Leone Industry). As I peddled with more energy than before, I was
overjoyed by my success. I had made it to Freetown! After 30 minutes or frantic searching, I found
the road. In Freetown, the streets were a lot smoother and crowded with people going to and from
the markets. Even though it was early there were still people milling around looking for deals at the
market stands. After I found the street, I asked somebody for the building number. All I received was
Sam Bangura Building (Sierra Leone Industry). I rode up the street in the direction that the
woman had pointed me in. Fifteen more minutes and I found the Bank of Sierra Leone (Sierra
Leone Industry). The building was large. Suddenly I realized how dirty, tarried, and sick I looked. But
nothing could stop me from entering the building. It took some time before I was directed to
someone. Then I was taken to a room. Here I talked to the manager, who was the best dressed
person I had seen during my time in Sierra Leone. I told him my situation, and he recommended that
I take the ferry to the Lungi International Airport and take the next flight to London Gatwick
(Traveling). From there I knew I could get a flight to J.F.K Airport in New York City. Only one thing
stood in my way. I had no passport.
The clerk called the US Embassy (United States), and they worked through the details. It seemed
like hours until all of the paperwork was filed. They provided me with a copy of my passport which
they faxed to the bank, and money for my return home (United States). They also booked my flight,
a reservation for the ferry, and a hotel room in Freetown (United States). By the time everything was
in order, my eyes were drooping. Thursday night I spent soaking my aching muscles in a warm bath
and eating a real meal in the hotel restaurant. The bed in the hotel was fabulous. I felt like I was
sleeping on a cloud. Friday morning I traveled to the ferry by bus (Sierra Leone Industry). The ferry
ride took 45 minutes (Traveling). The ocean breeze felt good against my itchy arms and face.
When I arrived at the Lungi International Airport, I found my gate and relaxed until I was asked to
board the plane. During the flight to Gatwick, I alternated between reading the magazines from the
seats in front of me and sleeping.
On Saturday morning I arrived in London! During my travels, the US Embassy had booked a flight to
Philadelphia from Gatwick. I was excited to hear that I did not have to stop in New York City. During
my layover, I explored in the airport. I was stunned to realize how much less Sierra Leoneans have.

Even after taking a few fever reducing pills, which I purchased in a restroom vending machine, I still
felt very cold. As soon as I returned home, I would visit a doctor. Hopefully, the US Embassy would
pay for that too.
As my plane touched down in Philadelphia, my spirits rose. In less than half an hour I would see my
parents and return to the world that I had left behind eons ago. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I
spotted my family. I ran over and hugged my father, mother, brother, and sister. My family was finally
reunited. Of course the first thing my mom noticed was how hot I felt. No matter what happens,
some things never change.
On Monday morning, my doctor determined that I had malaria. It took many weeks until I felt fully
recovered, and to this day I will never ride a bicycle.