Bonthe Island

If you look at a map of Sierra Leone and know where the boundary is that divides the Freetown and Bo Missions you will notice we have 90% of the country’s coastline. We don’t have missionaries near the coast because most people live much further inland. But there is this one spot. An island just off the coast with a town called Bonthe.

I don’t know if the thought of visiting the island and sending missionaries there grew from curiosity or inspiration, but grow it did. We heard stories of paved streets and colonial buildings lined on either side. The president of the country vacations there, we were told. The map shows an international airport, not in use since the civil war. Someone said there were nice hotels and restaurants.

And then a member of our Mosenesie Junction Branch and a bishop in Freetown sent us pictures forwarded from Brother Samu, a member of the Church who lives on the island. Brother Samu has lived there for eight years. He is two hours, including a boat ride, from the nearest congregation. He deeply missed gathering with the Saints every Sunday and so he started a Come Follow Me class for his family, coworkers, and friends, none of whom, except his family, are members of the Church. Every week I received a picture of the group. The number of people grew with each weekly picture.

We asked Elder Thacker, who is serving as a member leader support missionary with his wife to find a way to the island. He is always up for an adventure. And he succeeded. Now we just needed to wait for an open weekend. Finally, after a couple months, we found an open Saturday and Sunday. Time to visit Bonthe and meet Brother Samu.

Kathy had other things to attend to in Bo, so I started out alone, stopping in Moriba Town to pick up two members of the district presidency and Elder Hansen. Moriba Town is a small, remote place along a rough dirt road. I can drive there in two hours during the dry season; four hours in the rainy season when months of downpours makes war on the clay roads. We are at the beginning of the rainy season and I made it in two hours. Together we traveled another hour on dirt roads through the jungle to a small village named Yargoi, located on a river that flows into the Atlantic Ocean.

The clouds I had not noticed when packing that morning darkened 45 minutes before the end of our drive. The wind became fierce and rain fell from buckets. At the waterfront, we parked in front of a small medical clinic and stood beneath the covering of a building at the dock. President Mulai and Brother Lahai disappeared and came back with large shopping bags to keep our luggage dry. They disappeared again. This time they returned with small black shopping bags, the perfect size to fit our heads. President Mulai pulled his bag over his head like a winter cap and handed one to me. When in Rome? I snugged the bag on. It fit perfectly. I looked ridiculous. But so did they. But actually, no one looks ridiculous here. These people are practical. Ridiculous is paying for and carrying an umbrella when you can always find a small shopping bag.

Brother Lahai, the district clerk, and me in the rain.

The wind stopped and the rain slowed. And then the rain stopped. And we enjoyed a pleasant ride to the island. Our wood boat was small, long and skinny, with a fiberglass bottom. It looked like an overgrown canoe with a small outboard motor. We sat two abreast on wooden planks. The first view of Bonthe was a clocktower on the shore line.

Bonthe from the ocean.

We checked into our hotel and walked through the center of town. I had read there are 10,000 residents in Bonthe. It looked smaller than that to me. But we didn’t travel out of the center so we wouldn’t know. We looked for the resturants I had been told about. There aren't any.

The town has certainly seen better days. There are numerous boarded up buildings on the waterfront. And some old magnificent churches.

One of several churches in Bonthe. Unlike the country as a whole, the residents of Bonthe are mostly Christians rather than Muslims

Bonthe was a big deal back in the day, which I think ended in the 1970s. We found a large, rusted metal carcass of a ship wrecked on the sea front with a tree growing up through the middle. The tree looks like it could have been the mast taken root. The trunk is about 6 feet in diameter. The boat has been rusting undisturbed for a long time.

The trunk is bigger than the canopy. The boat and tree have seen better days.

We talked until it was late and went to sleep. I woke up Sunday morning on the nicest box springs I have ever slept on. Not sure why there wasn’t an actual mattress. But it was clean and softer than the ground.

The rooms we stayed in are small huts scattered around the perimeter with a large gazebo in the center and beautiful foliage throughout. At the entrance to the hotel compound, there is an old British phone box and a canon barrel laying in the dirt.

We ate breakfast seated under the gazebo (the only meal provided by the hotel). It gave me a 360-degree view of dense tropical plants and flowers growing between us and the small buildings in which we had slept. Breakfast was eggs and fish, no surprise. The fish was small and smoked, they tasted like Kippersnacks, a nice childhood memory for me. I’m not one to sit for long times, but I could have remained in my chair for hours. It was pleasant.

We were told to walk down the road along the ocean front and ask directions to the prison. Brother Samu was using the courtroom near the prison where he worked for his Sunday morning classes. I couldn’t stop wondering what the locals, who were out that morning, thought when asked for directions to the prison by two white and two black men dressed in white shirts and ties. Of course, they were all happy to help us find our way. These people are the nicest people in the world, and Elder Hansen and I are a novelty. We rarely see white people in our mission. We didn’t see any on the island.

The streets in Bonthe are like nothing I have seen in Sierra Leone. They are straight and cross at right angles, forming city blocks. The surface is not dirt. It is cobblestone in every direction. There are no potholes. We didn’t see a car or motorcycle driving or parked. This place has the nicest roads in our mission and apparently the least need for them.

The only streets we've seen that looks like these.

We found Brother Samu waiting for us at the magistrate’s court near the prison, which is comparable to one of our small county jails back home. I would have liked this courtroom back when I was practicing law. It is an open air courtroom under a large canopy. They call buildings like this sheds. The front, where the magistrate presides, has three walls around it. The back where the audience sits, is walled at the rear but open on both sides. We have no electricity here. The openness of the court makes it bright, and with a breeze, cooler in the tropical climate.

Brother Samu had two fellow guards who attended our meeting this morning. They showed up in white shirts and ties, very usual for men who aren’t members. Brother Samu’s 13-year-old son was equally dressed. He and his son were the only members of the Church this morning. His wife and other children were in Freetown.

We were early to the meeting. I found some boys on a bench and sat down next to them. They looked the age of deacons but not members of the Church. As is the custom, we sang hymns while waiting for the meeting to start. The boy next to me had a hymn book open. He was trying to follow the words with his finger. He didn’t understand the progression of lines in verses and was trying to read the words from top to bottom, like a book. I helped him move his finger from word to word through each verse and then back to the start for the next verse. There was a beautiful feeling in the room. I felt full. I knew I was supposed to be here.  

I had been under the impression there were more members in town than just Brother Samu and his son. But two is “two or three gathered in my name.” With my group we had six members. By the time the meeting started forty-seven people had joined in.

Church in the magistrate's court.

At 10 am President Mulai, Elder Hansen, Brother Samu, and I took the counsel table chairs, moved around to the other side of the prosecution and defense tables so we faced the audience instead of the magistrate’s post.

Brother Samu has been dreaming of this day for years. He served a mission. Was married in the temple. Stayed active in the Church. But eight years ago was transferred to Bonthe for work. From that time, he’s been alone without fellow Saints or the sacrament. He’s been sending messages, hoping someone would remember him. Hoping that one day his Church would catch up with him on this island. And today it did. As the meeting started, Brother Samu, seated next to me, stood to conduct. It was an emotional moment. I looked up at his face. His cheeks and chin were trembling. It was subtle, only I could see it. He was controlling his emotions, but just barely. He was excited and nervous. He wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted us to approve of him, his friends, his town. The meeting was wonderful. Maybe my favorite Sunday meeting in this country so far. The Spirit was strong enough to deliver a clear message to me. I felt I might not be able to speak when it was my turn. Something very special is here. I stood as the last speaker and told everyone; we will send missionaries.

There are reasons why no one has established a branch on the island or sent missionaries here. There are only two members. It’s not convenient. It makes no sense. It’s expensive getting back and forth. How do we support the missionaries or the members? The work will be slow with only one member to help.

When we first considered Bonthe I thought it too much to expand to an island. But then I remembered our son and all three sons-in-law. Every one of them served on an island. Chandler and Scotty served on small remote islands in the South Pacific. Many missions have islands. Many missions are islands. They figure it out. That thought plus the nagging feeling that we needed to go there was all I needed. We will return. I talked with the deputy mayor about a house for missionaries to live in. He pledged his help to find one.

After the meeting, we collected our luggage, ate lunch provided by our new friends, and met our captain at the dock. The title of captain seems a bit of an overstatement for this young man with an oversized canoe. But he is our captain. After boarding, he struggled to get the engine working. It would start, cough, stutter, stall, and repeat. After a few minutes it held steady enough and off we went. It stalled five more times on the way back. Each time I wondered if he could get it going again or if we would float out to sea. Happily, we made it back.

It was my birthday. What a nice way to celebrate.

By the way, it usually takes weeks to find a house to rent for missionaries. I asked Brother John, our mission FM (facilities management guy) to look for a place. It is a long day to go down and back. I assumed it would take him several trips. But no, he found one within a couple hours on his first visit. It was his quickest work to date. I consider this with everything else; we are supposed to go to Bonthe.

Word is getting out. A few missionaries are lobbing hints that they would like to be the first to serve in Bonthe.