I’m not a great one for affirmations. I recognise their merit, I do. I know that I’m more likely to believe something if I hear it over and over again. Where I stumble is that I feel a tad false when I’m telling myself something I don’t truly believe.

That’s the crux of my problem. I’m saying it. It’s me repeating it. And I’m not fully convinced that it’s true.

I can’t see how repeatedly telling myself that, say, I look good, will change the image I see of myself when I look in the mirror. My inner critic is very, very strong.

But maybe I’ve found a back door, a hack, that just might work.

I’m writing this from Freetown, Sierra Leone. We’ve just come back from the Big Markit. It’s New Year’s Eve. Most people are at the beach so it was much quieter than usual.

The lovely Abdul took us down from Signal Hill in his KK (a rickshaw).

Aside: KK also refers to Kadiatu Kamara, the country’s only professional female surfer. Hers is an inspiring story, immortalised in the film A Million Waves…

a film which portrays a resilient young woman who, with her surfboard in hand, stands strong, always ready to dive headfirst into the oncoming waves. In this way, KK is presented as a symbol of Sierra Leone’s future, rising out of its traumatic past. As she herself says, “I feel so different on the wave, like I’m the real KK.”

The real KK.

Driving around Freetown over the last few days, what has hit me most are the signs painted on the backs of KKs, on the sides of trucks, on the walls.

Shop names, company names, all invoke something better, something good. Divine Trading. Living in Hope Microfinance. Pharmalove.

As I’m not driving, my attention is free to wander and land wherever. At first, I wanted to stop and take a photo of every sign I saw (it’d make a great picture book). Then reason prevailed . If I did, I’d be all day getting anywhere. But it might still work out – we’re here for a while.

I find myself repeating each sign I see, saying it to myself a couple of times before the next one appears. I feel calmer, more at peace.

At home, my repetitions are anything but positive.

Things have gotten so expensive.

The world is going to hell in a handbasket.

This bloody house will never get done.

The things I repeat most often are not affirming – they’re …

What’s the opposite of affirmation? Is there a word?

They’re not disavowals or challenges, or disputes. They’re not negations or repudiations or rebuttals. None of the antonyms served up by the dictionary work.

I wrote before about toxic positivity.

It’s a belief that no matter how painful a situation is or how difficult, an individual should maintain positivity and change their outlook to be happy or grateful.

I don’t put affirmations in the same category. They’re a different beast entirely.

As I read each one, repeating it to myself a couple of times, a strange quiet comes over me. This, despite the cacophony of horns, the raucous symphony of voices, the yagba (usually means extreme effort beyond the normal to accomplish a feat). I feel calm, at peace.

This day last year, I wrote…

Finally. The last day of 2023. I thought this year would never be over. It has weighed heavily on me, revolving as it did around the triumvirate of death, loss, and despair. Despite the long bright summer, it’s been a difficult one with too many dark days.

This year was no better. No worse. But no better.

But I have hopes for 2025.

As we inched our way through the traffic, we kept pace with a decrepit blue van that had seen better days. Painted across the back bumper were the words DON’T GIVE UP.

As I said, I have hopes, high hopes, for 2025.

PS – If you’re interested in hearing more about Sierra Leone, be sure to subscribe to my travel stories.