Three Attempts, One Journey, and the Beginning of My Life at Harbin Institute of Technology
The Beginning of a New Chapter
Every major journey has a moment when an aspiration begins to feel real. For me, that moment came in 2026, after years of applications, interviews, disappointment and waiting, when the possibility of studying in China finally stopped being a hope and became a plan.
The opportunity was closely connected to my work and the direction I had begun to see for my career. I joined the Civil Service in 2020 as an Assistant Youth Officer in the Ministry of Youth Affairs and became an Assistant Director of Youth in 2023. My work placed me in the middle of youth development, NGO coordination, project implementation, policy work and the everyday realities of public administration. In 2025, I was also appointed to the Governing Board of the National Commission for Persons with Disability. These experiences increasingly made me aware that I needed a deeper understanding of public management, governance and institutional performance.
My academic journey had followed a related path. I had earned a Diploma in Social Work, followed by a Bachelor of Science in Development Studies with First Class Honours. I was also completing an M.Sc. in Project Management at the Institute of Public Administration and Management (IPAM), University of Sierra Leone.
Yet I wanted another dimension to my education: an international academic experience that would expose me to different approaches to governance, public management, regional development and policy implementation.
What I did not know at the time was that getting there would take three attempts.
The Dream — 2024–2026
Three Attempts, Three Years
My journey to China began in 2024, not 2026.
2024: The First Attempt
In 2024, I applied to Yunnan University of Finance and Economics (YUFE) for a Master's degree in Project Management. My interest in Project Management came naturally from my work. I was increasingly involved in programmes, youth interventions, partnerships with NGOs and development agencies, and activities that required turning plans into practical results.
On 15 August 2024, I received what the university called a “Letter of Consolation” from Dr. Li Lairu, the Foreign Training Programme Coordinator. My application had not succeeded because of limited admission quotas. The letter nevertheless encouraged me to apply again for the 2025 intake and indicated that my application would be warmly welcomed.
I was disappointed.
But the rejection did not end my interest in studying in China. Instead, it redirected me.
If I could not study Project Management in China, I decided I would study it in Sierra Leone. I subsequently enrolled for an M.Sc. in Project Management at IPAM, University of Sierra Leone.
Looking back, that decision became an important part of the larger story. A disappointment abroad led to a new academic journey at home. I completed my coursework in July 2026, with formal graduation scheduled for November. By the time I eventually left Sierra Leone, I had therefore completed the academic requirements for one Master's degree while preparing to begin another.
I did not know then how significant that combination would become.
2025: The Second Attempt
In 2025, I tried again, this time through the Ministry of Commerce of the People's Republic of China (MOFCOM)–China Scholarship Council (CSC) route.
I made it much further.
I passed the interview at the Embassy of the People's Republic of China in Sierra Leone. That was an achievement in itself, but passing the interview did not guarantee the scholarship. When the final beneficiaries were announced, my name was not among them.
This disappointment was different from the first. In 2024, I had been stopped relatively early. In 2025, I had come close enough to see the possibility clearly and then watch it disappear.
But the experience taught me something that stayed with me: being unsuccessful is not the same as being finished.
The first rejection had redirected me towards Project Management at IPAM. The second had shown me that I could successfully navigate a competitive international scholarship process.
There was still one more attempt.
2026: The Final Attempt
I entered the 2026 process with a much better understanding of what lay ahead: the documentation, the Embassy procedures, the competition and the uncertainty.
I applied again through the MOFCOM–CSC route. The Government of Sierra Leone supported my nomination, and the Minister of Youth Affairs, Hon. Ibrahim Sannoh, signed and stamped the nomination documents. The Chinese Embassy nominated 318 candidates, and I was fortunate to be placed on the principal list.
Even then, nothing felt certain.
I was considering several possible universities, including the University of International Business and Economics (UIBE), Zhejiang University and Southwestern University of Finance and Economics (SWUFE). At one point, an invitation from UIBE arrived at about 2:20 a.m., inviting me to an interview at 7:30 that same morning on 25 June 2026.
I did not know where the final answer would come from.
It came from Harbin.
The official admission documents were dated 15 July 2026. On 29 July, I received confirmation that I had been awarded the MOFCOM–CSC scholarship to study at Harbin Institute of Technology (HIT), in an English-taught Master's programme in Public Administration/Public Management under the School of Economics and Management.
After the applications, interviews, nominations, waiting and uncertainty, the confirmation felt different from all the earlier stages. This time, it was real.
I was going to China.
From Project Management to Public Management
At first glance, completing a Master's in Project Management at home while beginning another Master's in Public Administration/Public Management in China might seem like two unrelated academic journeys.
To me, they fit together.
Project Management is concerned with turning plans into organised action: planning, budgeting, scheduling, allocating resources, managing risks, implementing activities, monitoring progress and evaluating results.
Public Management provides the institutional setting in which that action takes place. It asks how public institutions are organised, how policies are formulated and implemented, how public resources are managed, and how governments deliver services and respond to social problems.
For someone working in the Ministry of Youth Affairs, the relationship is particularly clear.
A youth policy does not succeed simply because a policy document has been produced. It has to become programmes, projects, budgets, activities, partnerships and measurable results. Project Management asks how an intervention can be planned and delivered effectively. Public Management asks how public institutions should organise themselves to deliver that intervention and remain accountable for the results.
Looking back, I can now see a pattern in the three years.
The rejection in 2024 redirected me.
The disappointment in 2025 tested my persistence.
The success in 2026 opened the door.
I eventually arrived in China not to study Project Management, as I had originally intended, but Public Management, carrying Project Management as part of the foundation for that new academic direction.
The path changed while the destination became clearer.
The Departure
Preparing to Leave
The scholarship confirmation immediately created another set of responsibilities: admission procedures, travel arrangements, visa processing, medical requirements, accommodation and, importantly, my official absence from government service.
On 3 August 2026, I submitted my study-leave request through the proper channels at the Ministry of Youth Affairs. The scholarship was a personal opportunity, but I remained a public officer. I wanted to leave my post properly and responsibly.
Around 20 August, my Chinese X1 student visa was issued.
Until the visa was in my passport, there was still room for doubt. Once it was there, everything became concrete. I was no longer preparing for the possibility of going to China. I was preparing to live and study there for two years.
The excitement was real, but so was the weight of what I was leaving behind.
I was leaving my country, colleagues, friends, church responsibilities and, hardest of all, my family.
My wife, Mariama Sorie Mustapha, would remain in Sierra Leone with our two children, our son Ngakor Maada Forogbeh Mustapha and our daughter Iye-Nyava Mustapha.
The opportunity was opening a door academically, but it was also creating a distance that my family and I would have to learn to live with.
The Last Night in Sierra Leone
30 August 2026 — Lungi
The day before my international flight, Mariama and I travelled to Lungi together and spent the night there.
It remains one of the quietest and most meaningful memories of the entire journey.
We had dinner at a restaurant along the road towards the old airport. I never learned its name. Afterwards, we returned to the hotel, where much of the evening was spent talking about my absence and the practical realities it would create for the family.
Mariama teaches away from home and is not on a government salary. She has to travel to work every day, often with our six-year-old son, Ngakor. We talked about what it would mean for her to manage the responsibilities of raising our two children largely on her own while I was away.
Before leaving, I had arranged a standing order with my bank to transfer money to her account. We went through the arrangement together that night. We both knew it was not enough to replace my physical presence, but the arrangements had to be made.
There was little more either of us could do.
So we prayed together.
Then we went to bed.
The following morning, I would leave Sierra Leone.
Crossing Continents
31 August 2026 — Departure
On 31 August, I left Freetown International Airport at Lungi.
I travelled with Ishmael Smamura, who had also been admitted to Harbin Institute of Technology for the same programme. Edwina Sitta, another Sierra Leonean student admitted to Harbin University of Commerce for a Master's programme in a tourism-related field, travelled with us as well.
We were going to different universities and different programmes, but we were beginning the same larger journey: leaving Sierra Leone to pursue postgraduate education in China.
Our first flight was Ethiopian Airlines ET942. The journey took us from Freetown towards Addis Ababa, with a stop at Roberts International Airport in Harbel, Margibi County, Liberia.
As the aircraft moved away from Sierra Leone, the reality settled in.
The applications were over.
The interviews were over.
The scholarship was secured.
The preparations were finished.
I was finally on my way.
We continued through Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa before boarding Ethiopian Airlines ET684 for the next stage of the journey.
International travel quickly teaches you to pay attention. Boarding passes, baggage, immigration requirements, flight information, terminals and connections all matter. A small mistake can affect an entire journey.
But there was also something larger about travelling this way. I was moving from Sierra Leone through Ethiopia and into China, across countries with different languages, cultures, systems and ways of organising everyday life.
The journey itself had already begun teaching me.
Shanghai: When Five Hours Is Not Really Five Hours
1 September 2026
We landed at Shanghai Pudong International Airport on 1 September.
I had reached China, but I had not yet reached Harbin.
On paper, my connection looked comfortable. I had about five hours before the flight to Harbin. I assumed that would be more than enough.
Pudong had other ideas.
The airport was enormous. Moving between terminals required taking an internal train, something I had never experienced inside an airport before. After clearing the necessary procedures, I had to find the terminal for my domestic flight.
The distance, signs, queues and unfamiliar layout gradually consumed the time I thought I had available.
Eventually, I reached the correct terminal, but not before coming uncomfortably close to missing my flight.
It was a small crisis, but an important lesson.
A long layover is not necessarily a safe layover.
In a very large airport, time disappears into walking, internal transportation, queues and finding the right place. Five hours can become much less than five hours.
The practical lesson was simple: know the departure terminal before landing, treat airport transfers as part of the journey itself, and ask staff when you are unsure rather than relying on guesswork.
I made it.
I boarded China Southern flight CZ6142 to Harbin.
My First Night in Harbin
We arrived at Harbin Taiping International Airport at about 12:20 a.m. on 2 September.
Harbin was now no longer a place I knew only from admission documents, maps and university information. I was physically there.
I remember the feeling as a mixture of excitement, exhaustion and curiosity.
I was thousands of kilometres from Sierra Leone, in a city with a different language, climate, food, transport system and way of life.
We had expected a university pickup from the airport.
It never came.
It was after midnight, we were tired, and for a moment we had no idea what would happen next.
Then a small piece of home appeared.
Sierra Leonean students in Harbin belong to the Sierra Leone Students Association Harbin City, a sub-association of the wider Sierra Leone Students Union in China (SLSUC). Its Governor, Mary Patient Dambo, came to the airport herself to pick us up.
That moment has stayed with me.
Stepping outside the terminal, the first thing I noticed was the cold. The second was the quiet.
A line of taxis stood in an orderly arrangement. There was no shouting or jostling. Coming from Sierra Leone, I naturally compared the scene with what one might encounter around a typical taxi park back home, where noise, crowds and the pressures of making a living can create a very different atmosphere.
Then came another surprise.
Mary had hired a Didi to take us to the HIT campus, and the driver was a woman. I had seldom seen a female driver in that kind of role in Sierra Leone.
I sat in the front seat and watched the city through the window. One thing that immediately caught my attention was the greenery: trees planted in long, orderly lines along the roads.
When we reached HIT, however, another problem awaited us.
No one was available to open the dormitory gate.
So Mary hired another Didi and took us to her own university, Harbin University of Commerce, where we spent what remained of the night.
The next morning, she brought us back to HIT.
This time, the dormitory gate opened.
I will not forget that night.
Before I had unpacked, bought a SIM card or even properly seen my room, I had already experienced one of the most important things about living abroad: the value of people.
A fellow Sierra Leonean in a foreign city had come to our aid when the arrangements failed.
In a city full of strangers, that small student association became my first piece of home.
And when I finally entered my dormitory room, it felt like more than accommodation.
It was the beginning of two years in China.
Becoming a Student in China
One of my first practical tasks was buying a China Unicom SIM card.
I quickly realised that a mobile number in China was much more than a means of making calls. WeChat, payments, transportation, university communication, authentication and many everyday online services depend heavily on mobile connectivity.
It was one of my earliest lessons in adaptation.
Something that may be merely convenient in one country can become almost indispensable in another.
There was little time to settle down.
I began the registration process at HIT almost immediately and completed the remaining procedures the following day. I was gradually moving from being an admitted student on paper to actually becoming a student of the university.
Then came the medical examination at Harbin Institute of Technology Hospital as part of the post-entry requirements associated with my student status and residence permit.
About a week later, I collected the medical report and went to the Harbin Immigration Office with the required documents to submit my residence-permit application.
It was a lot to learn at once: immigration procedures, medical checks, university registration, accommodation, telecommunications, banking and payments, student identification and institutional procedures.
My background in public administration made me appreciate something I might otherwise have overlooked: systems matter.
Behind every apparently simple administrative process are rules, responsibilities, documents and people who make the system work.
By then, I had also been assigned an academic supervisor, Professor Liu Luning, a Deputy Dean in the School of Economics and Management.
That changed the character of the experience again.
I was no longer simply a student who had arrived at a university. I now had an academic relationship within the institution and someone whose role was to guide my progress.
That matters to me because my goal is not simply to pass examinations. I want to develop the research and analytical capacity that I can eventually apply to public-sector work in Sierra Leone.
Finding a Life in Harbin
An Unexpected Christian Connection
On 14 September, I met an elderly Chinese woman who turned out to be a Christian.
Our first conversation was brief and difficult because of the language barrier. We relied on Google Translate to communicate and eventually exchanged WeChat contacts.
At the time, I did not know that the encounter would lead to another friendship.
Through our later conversations, she introduced me to Lulu, a Chinese woman who is also a Christian. The elderly woman and Lulu are part of a small circle of believers who meet to read scripture, discuss their faith and share a meal.
I expressed interest in learning more and joining when I could.
The encounter meant a great deal to me because faith has always been central to my life.
As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I had become accustomed to worshipping with fellow members, participating in church activities and having an established faith community around me.
Harbin is different.
China's legal framework recognises freedom of religious belief, while religious activity is regulated and religious organisations and collective worship operate within a defined legal and administrative framework.
Coming into that environment required me to think differently about what it means to sustain one's faith.
Back home, going to church had been a normal part of community life. Here, I have had to become more deliberate about maintaining my spiritual life when my familiar congregation is not within reach.
That has changed how I understand faith.
Faith is not only something I find when I enter a chapel. It is also something I carry with me.
The conversation with that elderly woman, therefore, became more than an interesting encounter with a stranger. It reminded me that distance can separate people geographically without necessarily preventing meaningful human connection.
A New Goal: Learning the Guitar
During my conversations with Lulu and the others, I mentioned that I wanted to learn to play the guitar.
It may seem like a small ambition compared with everything else happening in my life, but it represents something important.
I do not want my two years in China to consist entirely of lectures, assignments, examinations and research.
I want to acquire a skill outside the classroom.
Perhaps the guitar will become a creative outlet. Perhaps it will introduce me to people. Perhaps it will simply give me something new to learn.
Either way, it is a reminder that studying abroad should not mean putting the rest of life on hold.
Classes Begin
By the third week of September, classes had started.
The speed of the transition was remarkable.
Only a few weeks earlier, I had been in Sierra Leone preparing to leave. Now I was sitting in a Chinese university classroom at postgraduate level.
My studies included Think Tank and Governance, Principles of Economics, Chinese language, Social Research Methods, Regional Development Strategy and Planning, Global Climate and Energy Policy, Cross-cultural Communication and Interaction, among others.
Social Research Methods quickly became particularly interesting to me because it encouraged me to think about social phenomena comparatively.
One of my presentation topics compared okada riders in Sierra Leone with food-delivery riders in Harbin.
It was a simple comparison in some ways: one social phenomenon from the environment I had left and another from the environment in which I had just arrived.
But the exercise taught me something broader.
Studying abroad does not mean abandoning one's own context.
Instead, a new environment can give you a different lens through which to understand familiar problems.
My direction at HIT is closely connected to my professional work. As someone working in youth affairs, I remain interested in how governments design policies, organise institutions and deliver services.
I have already begun thinking about research into public-sector delivery structures in Sierra Leone, particularly the ways different ministries organise their delivery teams and translate government priorities into implementation.
I want my work here to be useful beyond the classroom.
National Day: Seeing More of Harbin
1–7 October 2026
The National Day holiday gave me a short break from lectures and an opportunity to see more of the city.
On 1 October, I joined other Sierra Leonean students from universities across Harbin, including Harbin Institute of Technology, Harbin University of Commerce and Harbin University of Petroleum.
We came from different universities and studied different disciplines, but we shared something important: we were Sierra Leoneans experiencing life far from home.
We first went to Sun Island Campground.
Later, we travelled to Central Street, or Zhongyang Dajie.
The architecture, shops, people, food and public spaces were unlike what I was accustomed to in Sierra Leone. Walking through the city reminded me that international education happens outside classrooms too.
Sometimes the lesson is found in a lecture.
Sometimes it is found in a street.
Sometimes it is found in watching how another society organises an ordinary public space.
What the Journey Has Taught Me So Far
Looking back from the first week of October 2026, several lessons stand out.
The first is patience.
The scholarship did not happen overnight. There was the unsuccessful application in 2024, the disappointment of 2025, the renewed application in 2026, interviews, nominations, documentation, visa processing and finally the journey itself.
The second is preparation.
Every stage involved documents, deadlines and procedures. A missing document or misunderstood requirement could have delayed the next stage.
The third is adaptability.
Almost everything changed at once: language, food, climate, transport, technology, university culture and everyday routines. Even buying a SIM card became part of the adaptation process.
I have also learned that international education is cultural education.
The classroom is important, but so are the streets of Harbin, conversations with Chinese people, encounters with Christians, interactions with fellow Sierra Leoneans and the simple experience of navigating a new society.
Perhaps most importantly, I have learned that unexpected human connections can become some of the most memorable parts of a journey.
I never expected that a conversation on 14 September, conducted largely through Google Translate, would lead to Lulu and a small circle of Chinese Christians.
Yet that is how life sometimes works.
The things we remember most are not always the things we planned.
The Cost of Opportunity
I am physically in China, but my family remains part of every stage of this journey.
Mariama was with me on that final night in Lungi.
Our children are still in Sierra Leone.
I feel their absence most in the quiet moments.
Studying abroad has therefore involved a sacrifice that is easy to overlook when scholarship opportunities are described simply as “opportunities.” The scholarship has opened an academic door, but it has also required me to accept physical distance from the people closest to me.
I carry them in my thoughts and prayers.
I also know that I am not here only for myself.
I am a Sierra Leonean public servant.
My work at the Ministry of Youth Affairs has exposed me to the realities of youth unemployment, skills development, NGO coordination, youth empowerment and policy implementation. My service on the NCPD Governing Board has broadened my understanding of inclusion, oversight and public responsibility.
What I learn at HIT should eventually find its way back into that work.
I want to return to Sierra Leone with more than a degree.
I want stronger analytical and research skills, a deeper understanding of governance, a broader appreciation of how different countries address public-sector challenges, and ideas that can contribute meaningfully to the work I will eventually resume at home.
A Journey Still in Progress
The most important part of the journey has not happened yet.
So far, I have reached Harbin, registered at one of China's leading universities, settled into my dormitory, obtained a Chinese SIM card, completed the medical examination, submitted my residence-permit documents, met my supervisor, started classes, made friends and begun discovering the city.
But the real purpose is still ahead.
I have to learn deeply.
I have to conduct meaningful research.
I have to complete my Master's degree.
And eventually, I have to take what I have learned back to Sierra Leone.
When I look back at the journey so far, the individual moments begin to connect.
There was the rejection from YUFE in 2024.
There was the Master's in Project Management at IPAM that grew out of that disappointment.
There was the unsuccessful scholarship attempt in 2025.
There was the renewed application in 2026.
There was the nomination, the interviews and the eventual scholarship confirmation.
There was the last night in Lungi with my wife.
There was the flight through Addis Ababa.
There was the long and confusing transfer at Shanghai Pudong.
There was my first sight of Harbin in the early hours of 2 September.
There was Mary Patient Dambo arriving when the expected university pickup did not.
There was the dormitory gate that would not open.
There was the first Chinese SIM card, university registration, medical examination and immigration office.
There was Professor Liu Luning, my supervisor.
There was an elderly Chinese Christian woman and a conversation conducted through Google Translate.
There was Lulu.
There were my first classes.
There were okada riders in Sierra Leone and food-delivery riders in Harbin.
There were Sierra Leonean students gathering together during China's National Day holiday.
And there was the quiet realisation that I was no longer simply visiting China.
I had begun a new chapter of my life here.
The story is about education, certainly.
But it is also about faith, family, public service, sacrifice, persistence, adaptation and opportunity.
Three attempts brought me here.
Two years of study now lie ahead.
And the journey is still being written
Paramount Chief Gbondo of Yawei Chiefdom, Kailahun District, has reportedly been “confined to a traditional sick bed” since Sunday, October 12, 2025. For those unfamiliar with Mende custom, this may sound like a simple report of ill health. But within the cultural fabric of Sierra Leone’s Mende society, such words carry profound significance—often signaling a moment far more solemn than illness.
A TRADITIONAL CLOAKED IN REVERENCE
Among the Mendes, the death of a paramount traditional leader is never announced immediately. It is a sacred event, carefully shielded from public disclosure until all the required rituals have been completed. The process, deeply spiritual and ceremonial, ensures that the transition of a chief from the physical realm to the ancestral world is handled with utmost reverence and cultural accuracy.
When a Paramount Chief or other high-ranking traditional authority passes away, the custodians of tradition—secret societies, elders, and spiritual guardians—initiate a series of rituals to guide the chief’s spirit safely to the ancestral realm. Only after these sacred obligations have been fulfilled is the death publicly announced.
During this interval, the community avoids using the word “dead.” Instead, they say the chief has been “confined to a traditional sick bed” or is “seriously ill.” These phrases are not expressions of denial, but deliberate cultural codes that preserve dignity and ensure ritual order.
THE POWER OF CULTURAL LANGUAGE
In Mende culture, language is not merely communication—it is ceremony. Words carry power. To speak of death before the proper rites are performed is considered spiritually disruptive and disrespectful to both the deceased and the ancestors. Thus, the use of expressions like “traditional sick bed” serves as a protective veil, guarding the sacred process while informing the community that the time of transition has come.
This linguistic subtlety highlights how the Mende people have long understood the connection between speech, spirit, and society. Through such coded language, the community maintains order and reverence in times of grief, ensuring that mourning does not descend into chaos or gossip.
THE CHIEF AS CUSTODIAN OF THE SACRED
A Paramount Chief in Mende land is not merely a political figure; he embodies the soul of the chiefdom. He represents continuity, wisdom, and the link between generations. His authority flows not just from governance but from the spiritual trust bestowed upon him by the ancestors.
When such a leader passes, the land itself feels it. His departure marks the end of an era—an ancestral return that demands both silence and solemnity. The period between his “traditional illness” and the official announcement of death is therefore one of deep reflection, ritual observance, and cultural duty.
READING BETWEEN THE LINES OF TRADITION
In modern times, where information moves fast and transparency is often demanded instantly, such cultural practices may seem secretive or outdated. Yet, to the Mende people, these traditions are vital threads of identity. They remind the community that leadership is sacred, death is not the end, and words have weight.
So when the people of Yawei Chiefdom say Paramount Chief Gbondo is “confined to a traditional sick bed,” those familiar with the culture understand the gravity behind the phrase. It is not about illness—it is about honor. It is not about secrecy—it is about sanctity.
A FAREWELL WITHOUT GOODBYE
In truth, the expression “traditional sick bed” is a way of saying farewell without yet saying goodbye. It reflects a worldview where the living and the dead remain connected, where leadership extends beyond life, and where culture speaks softly even in moments of loss.
As Yawei Chiefdom enters this solemn period, the Mende world listens—not to the words, but to their meaning. For when a Paramount Chief “takes ill,” the ancestors are calling, and the land prepares to receive one of its own.
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