A – registering we will go
A- registering we will go (bis)
I-o, I-o, I-o
A – registering we will go!
I did go and try to register as a voter for the next elections. And what a throng there was, from women great with child, to the elderly, babes in arms, representing all walks of life! It was gratifying to see the enthusiasm of Sierra Leoneans bent on making use of their God-given right to be part of the election process. Bravo to Sierra Leoneans! Some, we were told, had been there from 4:00 am Would you believe it? What will happen on election day?
Collegiate school was in session, so the chairs available were exclusively for Registration staff and just one for those aregistering. Another elderly lady and I were directed to the queue at the far end which was supposed to favour ‘the aged’. I did not see any handicapped people. Perhaps they will register on a different day? The queues were out in the open, under the sweltering sun at 1:00 pm. When we protested, we were ushered to a step at the edge of the drain where we sat for the next 1 ½ hours waiting for our ‘aged’ concession. A cement step is hardly the lap of comfort for people with back pains and wobbly knees! However, stout-hearted and patriotic Sierra Leonens that we are, we bore it ‘womanfully’.
My fellow ‘aged lady’ and I tried hard to be patient as the queue members bumped and jostled and perspired profusely. Every time one lucky person was invited to THE SEAT, the whole queue heaved forward. The 2nd queue was quite disruptive because noisy disputes and quarrels broke out. Toddlers were shoved out to wee on the ground. Mothers brought babies out to join us on the step. I had one happy little fellow leaning on me as he munched his sandwich. The ‘small chop’ sellers were doing a fabulous trade and there were plastic water packets strewn all over with orange peel and other forms of refuse. Oh! It was such a thrilling sight!
When we’d been there for nearly 2 hours, my partner thought she’d take the bull by the horns and challenge the staff about our situation. The individual we had spoken to earlier, was nowhere in sight. So my lady friend went and stood by THE SEAT while saying a few words which obviously impressed someone who let her sit down. Then our queue erupted with much fist waving and threatening remarks. Poor things, they had stood there in the sun for many hours and were reaching desperation. I thought the ‘aged lady’ was going to be mobbed. So I beat a hasty retreat, went home for a snack, drink and rest, waited till after 4.30p.m when I returned to find my friend and others gone. There were still 2 queues of new arrivals. I had a hard time tackling the staff because by now, so I was told the time for ‘aged’ privileges was over and it was free for all!
One of them made the mistake of saying I was to come back the next day since all those over 60 had been given priority until 2.00 pm. This was untrue as I had been there till long after that time. So I ducked under the tape, stood at the head of the queue and announced dramatically which decade I belonged to. Thereafter, it was: ‘Mama wet ya!’, ‘Grama cam sidom’, and I was given pride of place on THE SEAT after a careful, slow process, I left triumphantly with my slip which I was counselled to keep safely and present later for my voter’s card.
Isn’t Sierra Leone remarkable! Good luck to all who still have to register. Go with your lunch pack, drink and a folding chair, if you have one. Keep your sense of humour, and don’t get too impatient! You’ll get there in the end, whether you are 18 or 98!
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