Documentary making (road trip)

Tuesday the 11th of June 2010 my input to the UNEP consultancy (team) EFA was working on abruptly ended as I was assigned to be the fulltime assistant of Alex Gabbay, a film maker from the UK. Being head of the information unit and facilitator for his project all eyes were on me to get this thing started. After hectic days of logistical/financial organisation, in which I tried to satisfy everyone 24/7 we managed to start filming and I managed (only just) to stay sane.

Before I go through our journey let me tell you about the challenging story! We were assigned to capture Sierra Leones progress on the MDGs, focusing on education and opportunities for young girls in particular. We soon discovered teenage pregnancy is the central theme here. The storyline is Sorie Kondi and his interpreter Foday P. Sorie is a Kondi player (wooden box with metal keys) and he is blind. He’s got a teenage daughter that stays with his sister. So Sorie is on a road trip to discover MDG progress. I cannot say more about the story but be sure to watch BBC world one night this summer to see how this unravels logically...For now please make do with a snippet of the locations.

We started filming in Freetown, spent Sunday on the Banana Islands (where the female chief indicated that they were waiting for NGOs to turn the BI into paradise) and left for Makeni on Monday the 17th.
Makeni: people cycle! It’s not too hilly, the roads are reasonable but most importantly the traffic is fine for cycling. We had trouble finding accommodation and even though we had 4 Sierra Leoneans in the car, my travel guide proved the most helpful in trying to find a decent place to put our heads at rest...after Makeni. We were too late to use our guide in Makeni but ‘thank god’ we didn’t have time to do research before we left so we had to meet up with journalists in as many places as possible to get some inside information.So our Makeni journalist and his brother had a wonderful, spacious and clean house where we could stay for 10USD a night incl. Breakfast (tea, bread and mayonnaise that’s never kept in the fridge anywhere and is almost a guarantee for ‘run belly’ –speaks for itself right?- in my case), water, ‘light’, as they call power from 19pm-2am, and a fan were included. No net but lots of spray, net in front of the window and the fans blow away mosquitoes too.We filmed in Mangay Loko, Sorie’s home village and I spent a day translating footage with Erickson, the information unit webmaster.Shockingly it’s the easiest thing to find teenage pregnant girls. Girls are so keen to have material wealth, too poor to pay for certain necessities for school etc. that they easily sleep with men. It makes you wonder how privacy of the body is perceived here. I’ve heard stories of 4 sisters all impregnated by the same man and therefore having to drop out of school, 1 sad father who put all his resources into getting his girl into private school who’s now a suckling mother at 16 and a girl who thought she’d found love and is now sitting at home being ignored by ‘the father’. Teenage pregnancies and girls dropping out of school are sadly common. Girls generally perform better in school, schooling is almost a luxury (high expenses), and families generally don’t/cannot give girls the second chance.
Koidu/Sefadu: An amazingly green, hilly route leads you from Makeni to Koidu, or Kono as everyone refers to (which is the district name). The first 60km from Makeni is solid Chinese highway, but the remaining 2.5 hours drive is ‘solid’ African style road: bumpy and unpleasant if you’re trying to sleep in a car without head rests. I’m sure the Chinese will finish their job as the quickest way to Koidu (diamonds, wealth, fame...) is via Makeni. Our arrival (e.a. finding accommodation) went a lot smoother than in Makeni. No driving and waiting around. We drove straight to our reserved rooms in Uncle Ben’s guest house which has immaculately clean rooms and good service. Strangely enough we (Alex and I) never shared a guest house with our colleagues/travel mates. They stay in cheaper places or with family and friends so they get to save their accommodation money (per diems) for their families. ‘The’ story we captured in Koidu is that because many families are poor and Koidu has quite a few rich men strolling about, dealing diamonds etc. Young girls get married out at an early age in exchange for a little prosperity for her family.
Kenema: Known for having the biggest church in the country and ‘light’ (electricity) 24/7! If not, there are always the beloved generators that drill away throughout the night to keep you cool. For the first time in weeks/months I slept under a blanket because I had AC. Yes, I work for en environmental organisation but a room without windows needs some illusion of fresh air. So I had to have the AC on to ‘de-stuff’ the place and the added bonus was I could sleep under a blanket, which I do admittedly really miss. Little things mean a lot. I thank the sky for the rains at night as I do get to enjoy a little cover more and more.
Tiwai: After having ignored the biggest church in town but interviewing a reverend about stigmatisation, abortion and contraceptives (we did not get the responses you’d stereotypically expect from a Christian) we drove on to Tiwai (river) Island Wildife Sanctuary where we met 2 girls, -impregnated by their teachers- in the mainland village Kambama. Originally we were told we’d meet 2 girls of which one was impregnated by her teacher but it soon turned out that the father of one of the girls was misinformed by his own child because she was so afraid of his reaction. Now that he is aware of the whole story he’s sent his daughter to her mother’s village whilst he remains in Kambama, unable to face his daughter. Both girls want to go back to school but cannot as long as the teacher is still teaching in school. For them, their ‘belly business’, as pregnancy is referred to here, is not so much the problem. Women get pregnant. All the time. They just want to finish their education. Unfortunately most families cannot afford to send their children to school twice. So when you get belly, you no get school.

After wrapping up the road trip a day earlier than planned we rushed back home to Freetown where days of translating and transcribing awaited us. Contrary to our planning we ended up editing only 1.5 days instead of 5. And I edited for about 2 minutes. Great capacity building if I may say so myself. No one was to blame but father time. We did manage to squeeze in a camera workshop in which we practiced different kinds of shots.

Now that Alex has left for his 3 weeks holiday I haven’t been able to get my couple of days off yet. My colleague of the information unit managed to take his immediately leaving me with the new volunteer. I do intend to travel to Kabala (north), known for the cool breeze and hills, before I leave. I really need to experience an un-work related trip. Struggling with public transport, being ripped off for being white etc. Looking forward to that, oh yes.

I will be here for less than a month from now on and feel slightly disappointed about my progress on the annual report. It’s a process of waiting for feedback. Hopefully the AR will be on the website before I leave. At least I did manage to (monitor) updating of the website, do some UNEP consultancy, facilitate the making of a documentary and various other bits and bobs along the line. So overall I’d say a successful experience I’ll treasure deep at heart.

And yes, this is probably the last blog as I do not foresee anything thrilling happening the coming weeks besides negotiating my future and possible the hills and breeze of Kabala. That is where I’ll be compensating for not taking enough photos the past 4 months...

Bean Salad

On the average night that Chani and I haven’t arranged for someone to prepare us a meal, haven’t done grocery shopping to cook (this only happened once or twice so far) and we haven’t been invited by anyone, we fend for ourselves in Ogo farm. Since we’re watching our pennies we’ve adopted our local friend’s habit of the road side delicacy: bean salad. There are 2 places up in Ogo farm to eat your heart out and they’re run by brothers. One was known among some as the ‘dusty restaurant’ as both food and you sit outside catching all the dust from the main road onto your plate and into your mouth. The other place is slightly more expensive (less than 20 eurocents more per meal) but you get to sit inside at a table (no (dusty) breeze). Since there is currently a lot of construction going on, the dusty place has had to move back from the initial road but will still be very close to the road once all construction has completed. Soon the Freetown peninsula will have a ‘ring-road’: a high-quality highway all around the peninsula. Those that were living right next to the road have been paid to resettle elsewhere (usually that means 10 meters back).
So we go for the ‘restaurant’ version rather than the dusty snackbar. Our restaurant cooks big pots of spaghetti, beans and hard boiled eggs. Your plate is 50/50 beans and spaghetti, a chopped hard boiled egg on top, garnished with a spoon of mayonnaise and sprayed with ketchup. You get a white bread roll on top of that. First thing I do is spoon the mayonnaise to my neighbour, last thing I do is pass the leftovers on to a kid. What goes on in between....is rather unsophisticated. You’re supposed to stir everything in together and plop large portions on pieces of bread (your spoon). Writing this I realise the meal sounds much worse than it is. I love it actually. Not so much the feeling and smells you produce after (beans and egg, fatal combination) as it is a heavy meal. Anyway, we get this for Le3000 (Le52000 is 1 euro). Tea is 700 or 1000 depending on milk and sugar. And boy do they add sugar. The standard question for tea is “4 spoons ok?” We always sit in the ramshackle counting our blessings until the sweat kicks in. Our friends usually break out in a dripping sweat 3 minutes after finishing and have to stand outside. Chani and I last a little longer but we do start shining after a couple of minutes.
The place we sit is always busy. There’s electricity, benches, a table and people can buy (warm) soft drinks, cigarettes, bread, candy. The usual roadside joys. When you look up you see the ceiling (wood and tin) covered in spider webs. Red, dusty spiderwebs. So far none have dropped into our plates. There are a couple of macro sized mayonnaise tubs on the table filled with water. There’s 1 cup for all customers to share. So if you have a cold, you will never have to feel alone. Just have a drink in a public place and you’ll soon be able to whinge in good company.
Africa is famous for red dust and I always cringe when I read books about Africa that start by describing the red dustiness of it all. Unfortunately it has to be mentioned! It leaves a flip-flop dust patterns on your feet or leaves your shoes orange for eternity, you need to scrub yourself to get remotely clean (don’t think you’ve got a tan till you’ve scrubbed yourself properly!), you need to choose between circulating air (AC) in the car and stay clean with a sore throat or open the window and get your free African layer of foundation all over. Dusty choices to be made every single day. I even get warnings walking on the road at night: “watch the dust!” I wonder how I could possibly avoid it, or perhaps it really means ‘watch the dust (flying up...?)’
Sometimes, if we’re lucky, the ice cream wheelchair/pram passes by. Guys push different kinds of makeshift trolleys around carrying boxes with little bags filled with yoghurt ice cream. These guys also drag their trolleys over the beach during weekends (when the place is crowded) and master any kind of landscape you can imagine with the old fashioned baby prams. Makes you wonder why people back home get the kind of mountainbike (almost 4 wheel drive) baby vehicles in a flat country like Holland...
Anyway, let's get back to the essence of it all: ice cream. These little bags are simply divine in their simplicity. If only they came in biodegradable packets...Since I'm working for EFA I'm very conscious of wrapping and trashing and consequently behaving like a right old tart telling everyone off when they drop their litter, forget to say please and thank you and pull up people's pants with the argument that God certainly does not appreciate having to look down into everyone's bum (everyone is either Christian or Muslim). Yes, I am going a little too far but these guys did actually learn how to behave in school and can laugh about it so for now it's just a good joke.
Ok. Focus. Ice cream. You bite the corner of a bag and suck out the banana flavoured frozen yoghurt. I always wonder where these people freeze their ice cream as I haven’t seen 1 functioning freezer in Sierra Leone except for in supermarkets. These Le500 bags of refreshment are definitely the best discovery so far. And I recently discovered that they come in different flavours! Although there's no affordable yoghurt to be found I console myself with the frozen version that will remain a mystery to me...frozen...means cold...means...HOW?! I'm dripping all day!

Tiwai Island workshop

For the purpose of getting to know our project partners and in order to plan the coming year of project implementation and related activities we went to Tiwai Island, a wildlife sanctuary and project area of EFA, for a 2 day workshop.Packed in a van (fully decorated with forest scenes and animals) with 6 colleagues, a driver and lots of luggage we started our 6 hour drive to the Island. Not sure whether google maps will help but it’s a river island near Potoru, which is near Bo. As usual we had quite some stops on the way for peeing, eating and undefined purposes which I’ve given up on trying to figure out as we seem to fall out of the equation of ‘who needs to be informed’. When I say ‘we’ I mean Chani and me. Interestingly enough Chani and I have become one person in most people’s minds and I’m called Chani on a regular basis by colleagues I work with frequently and people that know us quite well. Whenever one of us enters Lakka alone, people are always more curious to know about ‘the other’ than about the person that’s in front of them (“Where’s Chani?” is more common than “How are you?”) So the same happened with our partners on the Island. It took one man quite a while to tell us apart. Consequently he had to create some donkey bridges (this is a Dutchism I really like, basically it means something like tricks to remember) to tell us apart and started to compare us in detail physically. Highly inappropriate for a project partner if you ask me. I guess we did stand out being 2 out of 3 women and 2 out of 3 white people.
The template of a business trip I have in mind needs some serious revisioning. All I’ve ever heard about business trips is flying, airco, meetings, dinners and networking. Our business trip however, was a touch different. We bumped our way to the site in a painted (hippy) van, slept in tents in the forest, saw some of our partners and colleagues in their underwear (on the way to the bathroom that is!), and certainly could all have done with a little airco. Since it had just rained a lot on Tiwai the air was extremely thick and humid which certainly did not contribute to our productivity. The weather really slows down your brain and movements. We did have the luxury of a shower, toilet and mattress in the tent. The food was very tasty (though cassava leaf sauce with palm oil does get boring after having it at least 3 times a week). After the workshop on the second day I went into Kambama with some guys who needed to make some phone calls. Again I wasn’t aware of what we were doing and just followed the guys who said we were going for a stroll (I’m sounding more naive than intended here...don’t worry, I don’t follow strange guys randomly J ). Our stroll ended at a primary school sponsored by EFA. To be precise it ended at 2 rocks next to the road near the school. So the guys got onto a rock and started dialling while moving around on the rock slightly. Still no one bothered to explain but I soon figured out that the two rocks designated the 2 spots in the village where there was reception for one specific network provider (!). I can only imagine how people must have tried to find out about this network coverage. 1 step, 1 call. 1 step, another call. 485 steps later (if not more), dialling tone!! PARTY!! On the way back we took a goat in the boat. 3 hours later we had goat soup. The soup was enriched with unidentifiable bits of goat (lots of skin, fat, tubes, bones). It was only during lunch on the next day that we discovered where the real goat meat had gone and that hierarchy was reflected in food (and yes, they did go through a lot of trouble to get to the Island as well...fair enough to give them something nice) Whilst on the island we did go for a little stroll on the second day but I decided to come back properly and solely for animal watchin purposes. I didn’t get a chance to go on a boat trip (and see the meters long constrictor, crocodiles and the shy pygmy hippo) and really need some time to go take some photos. Chani is a bit of a snapshot freak which I’m grateful for but it also made me lazy thinking I can just take photos of her. I’d take similar ones anyway.
Our third day on the Island was for a TIAC meeting (Tiwai Administrative Committee). Our partners had left which meant I could have a tent to myself the last night: bliss! During the TIAC meetings the stakeholders/village chiefs of surrounding villages get together to discuss matters, progress, future plans etc. As can be expected with large groups, it was a very long meeting without a break as people tend to leave if they get a lunch break. So from 10 till 15.30 I was an intrigued listener. The meeting was translated between Mende, Krio and English (which certainly did no speed things up but definitely made it interesting for me). At some point sustainability came up and it became apparent that there is no word for ‘sustainable’ in Mende, which caused some discussion about the translation. This really makes you wonder how productive development jargon actually is on the ground. I did commit a couple of cultural blunders which happens more often and are always pointed out to me thank god. I have some very nice colleagues who are not shy to tell me what I do wrong from their point of view. Although I’m always proud of having studied cultural anthropology it’s hard to put into practice in a working environment that doesn’t allow for months of observing and diary writing before you actually involve yourself in their lives. You have to join in straight away as a colleague and try to grasp the right modes of operation.So little did I know that I upset the whole van on the way to Tiwai because I didn’t feel great and showed some emotion. Everyone felt responsible whilst I just felt uncomfortable and wanted to be left alone. Your business is everyone’s business, whether you’re in a village, van or on an island.My second blunder was saying no to the director in front of all colleagues. It was imposed on me (democratically decided) that I had to present some project stuff. I refused, arguing that I hadn’t even known anything about the project until the morning of workshop day 1 and I certainly could not present confidently in front of our partner (who we depend on for money!). I thought this was a strong argument but apparently it’s not about the argument or logic, it’s about respect for the boss. A communication issue, again. And perhaps others were more confident about my skills than I am.The third cultural learning moment I had was when we started having some drinks the second night. In Sierra Leone someone has to ask you whether they can open your drink when you order one. If you get an opened drink you can be sure that you’re going to be poisoned. If you want to buy someone a drink you take them to the bar. If you poor someone a drink you have a sip first to show it’s safe or that you’re willing to die together.We’ve spent quite some time with people from all areas, shapes and sizes and it’s unbelievable how many rules and regulations people have based on supernatural (superstitious?) phenomena. People in Sierra Leone believe and fear many things and people. Every village has witches. There’s one village where if you park your motorbike it will never start again so you have to drive through or keep the engine running. People can walk on water. People can bleed without the blood ever reaching the ground. People can poison your food in such a way that you’ll never want to eat anything else again.Speaking of food. I tried something new. On the first night on the island I caught a colleague catching some kind of flying termite and drowning them in a tub of water. On day two we got the wingless bodies fried on a plate. Everyone dived for the delicacies. I forced myself to try (hey, when do you ever get to taste fried insects?!) and they were indeed yummy! Sort of mini-shrimp like look, crunchy texture and smoky taste. Amost Lapsang souchong snackettes. Definitely delicious and rich in protein. Oh and by the way, when you catch these termites to eat yourself you better not go for a stroll in the woods as snakes will not be happy with you for taking their food and they’re very likely to bite you...

My complete address

Unfortunately I forgot an essential line in my address so all those lovely letters you sent me have not arrived (and I hope I can say they have not arrived YET).

My complete address is:

Fee Romein

EFA guest house

PMB 34

1 Beach rd, Lakka

Freetown Peninsula

Sierra Leone

My mobile number here is: +232 77 812 825

I'm always up for a chat :)

Liberia

Friday night, before my trip to Liberia, I enjoyed a marvellous night on the beach. It felt like day time and everything around had a clear shadow. It was unbelievable for a city girl like me to see so much natural moon light. Hypnotised by nature I didn’t go to bed until 3 am but was still ready to go at 6am as instructed. I still think that every day and every appointment I have might just occur at GMT . I’m always ready to roll, always unprepared for BMT (black man’s time). At 9.30 we drove away to pick up every other crew member of the renewable energy team to finally leave Freetown at 11.30 squashed in the front (which always makes me feel a lot safer than having all the space I need to bang around when there’s an accident). Being the only woman on the trip I was allowed to enjoy the front seat together with our shortest colleague (I quote another colleague: “Where’s Kaiza? Did you put him in your pocket?”) listening to my favourite (I think it's SL) tape over and over again. Apparently Nigerian music is considered the best, then Ghanaian, third is Sierra Leone. Not sure whether this is a well known fact or an opinion, but in terms of the music you hear in the Sierra Leonean and Liberian streets it's right.

On our way through Salone there were signs absolutely everywhere besides the roads designating projects and initiatives for the development of the country. But what is actually going on behind the signs is less clear. Either all projects are finished or have stagnated. Entering Liberia there were even more signs, possibly due to the fact that the war continued for longer. I haven’t seen the whole of Salone and Liberia but it struck me that Liberia has better houses (less huts vulnerable to the weather) and generally has benefited more from ‘quick fixes’: solid, tarmac roads that will possible be improved to slightly less wobbly but definitely already beneficial for trade and commerce. Monrovia, the capital city, is American-like in the sense that it has huge, broad highway roads and you can pay with USDollars or Liberian dollars (1USD=70LD).

On our way to Monrovia we drove in the direction of Tiwai island and passed village after village that made me feel like I was living a déjà vu dream. Every couple of miles there was an identical village to the ones before and after. Every village had couples of women sitting in the shade braiding each other’s hair. Every village had people outside cooking rice and fish and laundry drying on the frames of houses or what looks like unfinished market stalls. The same food is sold everywhere, groundnuts (or peanuts if you like...like I keep saying. An ‘oh-is-that-what-they-taste-like-fresh?’ moment is guaranteed) candy (caramel under the sun? Just eat the wrapper too), deep fried salty crunchy fishes. Delicious. One thing they don’t sell here is dust. That’s a free bonus, all-inclusive. It’s Everywhere. Up your nose, behind your ears, on your food. A little rain does wonders in preventing you from full cover but has the side effect of enhancing gap and pool formation on the roads.

EFA has some extremely skilled drivers. So skilled I’m scared as the drivers have the confidence to drive on the opposite side of the road when the road has too many ditches because that way they can see how far they can slide off the road whilst trying to avoid the roller-coaster pits.

Entering Liberia is amazing. After Sierra Leone, which is quite dry and only has about 30% of its natural forests left, Liberia is incredibly green (and it’s dry season!). Liberia has about 70% of its natural forest left and even now with sweltering 38 degrees it’s green green green (and I’m no longer sweating anymore, no I’ve reached a whole new physical dimension of heat: I’m just open and pouring. Can someone please close the Fee-tap?) As I enjoy a lot of cold fizzy drinks (other cold options would be beer or metallic tasting (hard!) water which does get boring not the beers!...) I do keep worrying about my teeth but my new motto is ‘better cold than clever’.

We were just in time to cross the border actually, which closes at 6pm. I thought the customs police were talking in a local language until someone told me it was English. I seriously could not understand anything of what people were saying unless they spoke extremely slow. Liberian English sounds like a drunk, sleepy person trying to save energy by connecting all words in a sentence and omitting as many consonants as possible. By the end of the week I mastered to decipher 1 sentence independently.

When we arrived in Monrovia (12 hours door to door journey) we stayed at the Atlantic Guest House which charged ridiculous prices (30 dollars) for used sheets, a noisy fan, no mosquito net, and red lighting (naive as I am I didn’t realise this guest house was particularly for those who like to bring home the ladies. The pile of condoms on the TV should’ve made that clear to me).

Sunday we left for Ganta where I'd be visiting the REP project (solar panels for an UNICEF school, LAB4LAB project). A 5 hour journey brought us to a lovely Methodist guest house with crisp white sheets, a fan and a mosquito net for a lovely 15 dollars. I met Moulou, from Ethiopia, teaching ministers of health and such about nutrition for 3 weeks. Interestingly enough she’s the best friend of the owner of Addis Ababa, my favourite Ehtiopian restaurant on the Overtoom in Amsterdam. They went to school together. She shared her pineapple and bought me an egg. The caretaker, Emma, was a wonderful lady and I spent most of the evening chatting to her and Jonathan, the technician. Jonathan let me try some of Emma’s bread which she must have regretted because I begged her to bake me one for the road. After lots of soft white bread with no texture or flavour the crunchy home made banana bread with some spices was just the best thing since...white bread I guess. Consequently Jonathan would not have any of ‘my’ bread. “I cannot take food from a stranger.” I guess I am the stranger in this case, being in his country. Though he’s as much a stranger to me as I am to him in my eyes. An interesting cultural difference in perception of communities and belonging.

I told Jonathan about the education system in Holland and he couldn’t believe my words. I, me, small lady (meaning only 24 years young) have a master’s degree? And the government helped me pay? And that’s it? Most people in Liberia don’t get their master’s until they’re 40 years old, when they can finally afford to study. Unless you’re wealthy and in that case you’d rather send your kids abroad to obtain their degrees instead of supporting your own educational system.
Although I felt bad about my privileges I continued talking, not to make him feel bad, but to try and get him motivated to look for opportunities, scholarships etc. But there’s hardly any electricity in Liberia, people keep their computers to themselves and the internet is just not within reach of many people. If I had internet in the guest house I would’ve taken my time to show him some opportunities...One of the electricians on the team (a pastor/mathematics and physics teacher) cannot work within his field of expertise and is earning a living as a teacher because electricity is just not happening in Liberia. A 2 million USD project should have sorted the Methodist compound out but they’re still using the generators. Apparently because the new system is underground which is not familiar enough.

Tuesday I left for Monrovia. On our way back we had a site visit stop in Salala where Aloysius showed me around the former Internally Displaced People’s (IDP) camp. The landowner who gave his land for use to UNHCR to build camps has now been compensated with seeds and restoration of his land.
The rest of the week was filled with site visits and talks to the country director for EFA in Liberia. The site visits were a little too much in terms of heat. We’d usually arrive at midday and I mastered the skill of wiping the sweat of your forehead, nose and lips in one sweep like a windscreen wiper.
After several short nights (the owner of the guest house also owned a ‘disco’ across the road) a colleague convinced me to go watch the people dance rather than lie in bed awake in frustration. In the disco/supermarket it was mainly men doing their thing. The ‘disco’ was actually a shop with huge speakers outside and some chairs and tables. Most customers soon forgot what they came for and started dancing either before or after their purchase. Worryingly enough I discovered that the kids helping around in the guest house (from 7am) all stayed working in and around the disco/shop until closing time (around 1 or 2 am). But it seemed like the disco offered them a satisfactory reward for their work.
The journey back was a lot easier knowing I’d be in quiet, comfort and coolness. I’ve moved from the front of the guest house, where the sun shines full blast all day, to the back, where the sun doesn’t come and there’s an almost continuous breeze.

I certainly have plenty information now to start writing the annual report for EFA... if only there wasn’t so much gossip around to distract me...

Dance the heat away

On Friday the 26^th (the second national holiday in 2 weeks) there was a sports event nearby. Lakka has a football field used for all kinds of sports activities from the local teams’ practice moments every morning to the school sports events that occur quite often.

So this Friday we watched some sports in the heat of the midday that made me drip like a leaking waterfall whilst kids were running around, jumping and wheelbarrow racing. Most girls danced the time away waiting for their turn to jump over a horizontal bar (not sure what you call this sport). Loud, blasting music, that makes it hard even for a stiff European to stand still, accompanied the event. I persevered and managed to remain the fool watching rather than being the fool dancing...and laughed at! The way these young girls (and boys actually) move... I mean, it’s silly to say but it has to be said, it’s just shockingly-shakingly-wobbly-bobbly-amazing!
The most amazing element of the sports day has to be the ‘run-and-balance’ race (my name for it). Both boys and girls run halfway across the football field, pick up a beer bottle in the middle and finish the second half off by balancing the bottle on their head, without touching! A truly African skill and wonderful touch to an otherwise boring competition to watch.

I never went to Tiwai in the end as the meeting in Bo was cancelled. However, I will be going to Liberia for 1 week, leaving tomorrow (sat-27th) morning 6am. Lucky me, as we have no water in the compound for the moment. Thank god for the sea (in which I caught one of our compound dogs excreting too late to retrieve)
I’d love to upload some photos but I’m not able to and don’t think I will be in the near future. So just let your positive imagination set free and you’ll probably have a wonderful picture of life in and around Lakka ... and start building up patience for my slide show J

Ogo farm, Ogo food, is it all Ogo good?

Today we drove into town with one of the EFA ‘excursion’ cars, meaning it has about 8 seats facing each other in the back. On our way out of LakkA David (working for the Renewable Energy Programme, son of the director and our driver of the day) picked up some friends and off we were on the dusty road. It’s quite common to give people/friends a ride if you’re heading in the same direction (and driving an 11 person car).

The roads are watered every day to avoid too much dust flying around. This provides about an hours worth of less dust in the car but you can still see the dust contrasting with the black car ventilator and I wouldn’t wipe my face with a white T-shirt after a drive.
About once a week we go to Freetown supermarket: which is airconditioned! And sells ice cream! And brands my grandmother used to use! Good old pear soap, milk powder and basically instant versions of everything. Welcome to powder country. Although I’d much rather support the locals and buy their ice cream I’m quite sure my stomach would disagree. Water and ice cream are sold in plastic bags on the streets. You have the factory plastic bags with mineral water and the hand filled bags with cleaner water than from the tap but not European proof. Also Ice cream is sold in bags. You bite into the bag and start sucking water or ice cream. Done with your consumption? Just throw the plastic on the ground. Or if you’re on the beach, bury it. I’m not sure whether I’ll do as the locals do in this particular case.

I tried to change my euro’s in a Fullah shop. You can change money in the streets, in Fullah shops, supermarkets and in the bank. Obviously the best rate is on the street but then half of Freetown can see how much you’re carrying around. As Chani emptied the Fullah safe with her exchange I had a hard time changing my money for a good rate. The supermarket owners are hardcore business men and give you a low rate no matter what the official rate is. The banks close at strange (early) times. I will have to wait a couple of days till someone heads into town next week. That’s the way it goes.
The money here by the way is pretty...disgusting is the only word that describes it best. A little history lesson can put this into context.
During the war a lot of people fled from the provinces into Freetown but never returned. Consequently Freetown is now extremely overcrowded with people trying to make a living of petty trades. There’s not one street without people carrying their shops on their heads. These people don’t carry bags and purses. No. They much rather put the money as close to their body as possible. So most of the paper money has tasted at least 100 different kinds of sweat and dust and who knows what else. The money here almost feels like fabric and looks like a newspaper that has been lying out in the rain.

So I didn’t get money and we headed back to Lakka. Most of the road between Freetown and Lakka is pretty ok. They’re trying to put tarmac on a large stretch before the rainy season will start and it looks like it might work. Who knows what will happen in the rainy season though as the road will be just tarmac on (flattened) dust.
The last stretch to Lakka is a pretty extreme sport. Big holes, rocks, foot passengers, motorbikes. But everyone seems to know the rules and honks their way past each other efficiently (yes, one of the things that runs efficiently!) We bought a crate of beer and David decided to show us Ogo market. He left us on the market (near Lakka) while we worked our way around the 3 stalls and several women under the tree displaying their banana leaves and garden eggs, as they call aubergines here. A woman, Ifatu (say Aaifattoe,we managed to remember after asking only 5 times) spotted us and decided to show us around Ogo farm. On our way there she explained that everyone in the village had their own plot. Expecting a cute little vegetable garden I was amazed to see the enormous stretches of fields we discovered covered in corn, cucumber, tomatoes, peppers, garden eggs, salad, chives, mango trees, potatoes... There are wells around to water the fields and during the rainy season all the plots turn into a rice fields.
The whole village gets up at 6, works on the farm and then goes to the market to sell their stuff. Either in Freetown or nearby. The Ogo village trades their veggies for fish with Lakka. Perhaps some of these people don’t make a dollar a day, but they certainly won’t go hungry. I asked Ifatu about theft. There seems to be no such thing. No one sleeps on the farm. There are also hardly any birds that eat the seeds. A little irrigation system could do wonders for them. But I guess it's all Ogo good.
I’m surprised to see no one actually breeding animals. Eggs are available everywhere but most people live on fish and rice and whatever vegetables they grow here. Most of the chickens run around freely though and the only goats I’ve seen were usually single cases on a rope.
Walking through the fields we met Ifatu’s sister, little brothers, big brother, cousin, auntie...most of them relaxing under a tree enjoying the cool sea breeze. We also met her mother. Ifatu asked us “You know her name?”
No, I don’t. What is it?
“You know her name?”
No, tell me.
“You know?”
How can I know?
“Nooooo, Yuno is her name!”

Not expecting a private tour of such a large piece of land during the hottest hours of the day I’m now the proud owner of a truck driver’s arm: one red one white. Yes, we pretty much had the sun on one side all day and since I’m the passenger in every car trip my right arm is definitely turning redder than the left.
As usual I spent the evening on the beach. But this time I had quite a unique sight to see. As it was a Saturday more people came down to the beach so I was watching Chinese (“No, they’re Mongolian security guards and they don’t speak a word of English”) playing football and swimming whilst one woman took pictures non stop. A woman walked by me (as they tend to do) with her shop on her head. She asked me if I was interested in her stuff. ‘Yes I am, but I didn’t bring any money.’ Next thing I got was the incredulous look. No one believes that white people come to the beach without money. When I told her I lived in the village and never brought anything to the beach she looked at me as if I was a ghost (or cockroach...not sure) She said it was ‘no problem, no problem’ and gladly lifted the heavy bag of her head to plonk down next to me. She showed me her jewellery, batik cloths and little copper statues of musicians. Apparently they were made from coins that were used during colonial times when people didn’t use paper money like they have now. I wasn’t quite sure how true this was and hope to find out. Would be an interesting little relic of colonialism to purchase. Definitely artistic little statues!

Next news will be on our excursion to Bo (the Manchester of Sierra Leone, party capital) and Tiwai Island (a natural reserve) to meet up with the other EFA staff and get some more info for the website and the annual report. This excursion will be with Chani, Charles (remember him from Banana Islands? Birdwatcher), Tommy (director) and Steve (IT/Info unit, Tommy’s brother). It’s about a 5 hour drive on, apparently, good roads. We’ll attend a meeting in Bo, stay the night and discover the 12 square meter natural reserve on Tuesday. I think Tommy wants us to tag along everywhere possible so that we can take on more responsibilities.

A typical day for Fee-Fee

So what does a typical day look like living in Lakka, working for EFA?

I wake up to the sound of...my mobile. My habit of waking up naturally at 6 has miraculously disappeared since I’ve been here. I guess my brain has so many new impressions to deal with that if I wouldn’t set my alarm I’d probably be in a coma for a couple of days.
The second and third sounds I hear are rather pleasant: birds and rolling waves. I remove my tie-die green-yellow-red sheet and step out from under the mosquito net (for which I must get a little sewing kit to fix!). The floor is tiled with square tiles, which is nice and cool all day, with a pattern of wooden boards on them. I unlock my bedroom door with violence. As every other door in the guest house it sounds like a 15^th century ghost house door. Heavy, wooden door and probably never been oiled in its life. All the doors have (pad)locks on them or a little bolt to slide. If it doesn’t really fit properly Samuel the caretaker takes care of it. In his way that is. He doesn’t exactly make it much easier to lock the door as he refuses to remove and replace any nails. He just beats the metal with a padlock till you can force everything into place. This sort of resembles the strong Sierra Leonean (dare I say African?) adaptation capacity. If it rains and the roof leaks onto your bed, you move the bed. I guess it’s a resourceful way to deal with lack of resources/money. However, I’m sure EFA has a hammer and Samuel could fix things a touch more sustainably.

After my morning violence locking and unlocking doors and undoubtfully waking up the other ladies on my floor (the men sleep upstairs) I get myself ready and wait for the hot water to arrive. The caretaker, Samuel, brings the water and bread every day although I’m not sure for how long. He has mentioned he’d like the weekends off and was very sad, grumpy and upset after his meeting yesterday in which he requested to have the weekends off. Everytime I ask him about it he shushes me and says it’s a little secret.
After a lovely European breakfast of weetabix or cereals I move behind my laptop and do whatever needs to be done till lunchtime. The usual distractions are: generator, dogs (7 that bark and howl at the same time, all injected against Rabies J), chit-chatting in the kitchen (which is next to my room), and general heat and fatigue. I sometimes think of myself as one of those old colonialists writing a diary when I complain about the heat...

Dear diary,

The heat has been excruciating once again. I could not bear to be outside without little Ibrahim (slave) keeping me cool. My skin is moist all day and the well has almost dried out. Johnny took me out for a stroll on the beach where we cooled down with a cool glass of gin and tonic. Alas, we have run out of it now and shall have to wait until the ships return with more drinks and entertainment. Life is hard sometimes.

(this was in no way a reflection of my wishes or desires!)
After lunchtime I feel even more sleepy and try to be strong but have to take a nap occasionally. Chani swims at around 18 but I’ve decided to go at 17 to catch some evening sun rays and cool my brain. I find I can then do a little more (productive!)work between my swim and my dinner. I'm generally still reading up on EFA to get more ideas about how to systematise the information at hand. I'm producing documents I wish to see on the website which I think are relevant for potential donors and people interested in the various different kind of programmes.

The sea water seems to be more salty than what I’m used to. There is a hard rock cafe right near our house. It divides the beach in 2 parts. So far we’ve only swam on one side and since I recently heard that the hospital nearby dumps all their waste on the other side I think I’ll stick to ‘my’ side.
Chani’s fanclub is slowly becoming mine but I’m keepin my privacy and distance...it has become an issue with the security guards that some beach boys hang around the gate waiting so they've notified the chief of Lakka to deal with the boys. We'll probably sit down all together soon (beach boys, security, chief and us) to come to some arrangements about our friendship as the boys are quite insistent and hoping for more. I just hope they don't get into trouble and start coming after us because of it. It's very strange living in a village. Everyone knows each other and us and knows about everything. The chief knew about the time we were on the beach and one boy was touching Chani against her wishes. I get the impression there's been a lot of sex tourism around here (although Samuel corrected me that it's about relationships, even though the women just leave, yes, Europen/American women). I also learned that men can be married and have girlfriends. The farther away from home you are with your girlfriend the more respectful you are to your wife. And when you don't tell, it's also a sign of respectl.

To come back to my day... If it’s a weekday I’ll be having a dinner prepared by Samuel or one of his friends for 5000 leones (less than 1 euro). Monday it was fresh mackerel with a rotten lemon, rice and tomato sauce with lots of oil. This sounds worse than it is: I didn’t have the lemon and scooped around the oil J
After dinner we either head for the beach bar, have some drinks with other guests in the guest house or check our e-mails and have an early night. If it’s a weekend day we have our dinner on the beach.

I intended to go swimming at 6 on Tuesday since I went to bed early and want to get into the habit of swimming twice a day. But as my alarm went I couldn’t tell whether my eyes were open or shut and decided not to go for a stroll to the sea in the dark. The way to the sea requires some light as there are rocks, tree roots, baby chicks, crabs and frogs on the way. I’d rather not have a new kind of rash this quickly. I’m sure I’ll have plenty without tempting fate.
On a less regular day I’ll go to Freetown supermarket, a site visit or anything that comes up really!

I haven’t quite decided whether this is one of my healthiest periods in life or one of the unhealthiest.

I live near the beach, breathe the clean sea-air daily, go for plenty of swims, eat regularly (lots of cereals in the morning, fresh fish in the evening, only fruit if/as I snack) and drink lots of water (no coffee). My skin is always moist thanks to the sticky weather (something that makes the people here look young and will keep my skin like a baby’s bottom according to another Norwegian guest). I also sleep plenty.

On the other hand I swim in the same (national) sea that gets medical waste dumped into it, that gets basically everything dumped into it during rainy season, inhale cooking fumes on a daily basis, have started drinking beer, take toxic malaria tablets and have peanut butter and white bread for lunch every day. I sleep on a very un-orthopaedic bed.

I guess life is just about balancing out the opposites...

ps: I had another site visit. This one was to see EFA's work with the Governmental Technological Institute as part of their Renewable Energy Programme (REP). I got to see a class at work building solar water heaters and get a general impression of the Renewable Energy Programme and the things they do (teach, build, install: solar energy and water heating systems). I've got to get into the jargon of renewable energy and nature conservation sooner rather than later.

Banana Islands and Valentine's day

Moving from temperatures below zero to temperatures above thirty definitely has physical consequences. At the moment my left foot is decorated with sun rash, mosquito bite swellings and plant rashes.

The plant rashes are a residue of our site visit on the Banana Islands (named as such because of their shape). If you look at a map you’ll see it’s a short distance from Lakka to Kent, from where we were going to take the boat. But instead of driving against the clock we went via Freetown, (driving clockwise over Freetown peninsula) and hit the highway.

People have the interesting habit of walking on the road, even if there is a pavement. They try to bum a ride, sell some fruits, nuts, breads, deepfried dough/balls (‘oliebollen’), soap or anything that can be balanced on a dish on your head in fairly large amounts (e.g. small things). I’m still amazed (ok, ok, I’ve only been here about 4 days) about the things (half a forest) and amounts (half a fruitshop) people carry on their heads without hitting each other or dropping all their fruits on the streets.

Charles (our companion, driver and birdwatcher) happened to drive an English vehicle with the wheel on the right which I was VERY pleased about. This way he could make sure he would not hit any foot passengers. Thank god he also had a little mirror extra on the front at my side so he could actually have a proper view of all sides of the car.

Once we arrived in Kent we took the Banana guest house boat to the islands. There are (sort of) 3 islands with 2 villages: Dublin, which is on the first and main island, Ricketts (on the 2^nd). This island is attached to the first by a pathway over piled up rocks and plastic that floats in from the mainland. The last island is Mesmui (or Mes Mieux). Mesmui has no inhabitants at all. We arrived in Dublin, welcomed by piles of plastic on the beach and a sign saying we had to pay the community 5000 leones tax for keeping the island clean...

Our guide for the day, Gary, owns the eco-friendly guesthouse which is run by locals. It’s a sustainable social/environmental friendly development project in which EFA is to get involved in return for some shares in the guest house. We were there to assess the island, guest house and opportunities/responsibilities for EFA. Chani and I will be writing the assessment report and see how things go from there. We met the chief woman, as she called herself. She was the boss of the island, the one to take all the decisions concerning the island. I was glad to have Charles with us to translate our English into Krio and vice versa. Even though Krio is a lot like English when spoken slowly my learning curve for Krio has not been as steep as I would like (fluency in 2 days would have been helpful). The chief woman had trouble understanding our questions which immediately drew my thoughts back to the workshops I had at Sussex about participatory trainings to gather information in development projects. I was very sceptical about my year at Sussex and was sure that a year in the field would have given me the same knowledge but being in the field I highly appreciate having some theoretical framework (to ridicule in the field). Seriously, the degree and experience here are nicely complementing each other.

Before I continue working I just want to share my valentine’s day experience. As I just started out working with EFA and want to get to know the organisation a.s.a.p. as it facilitates taking on (sudden/surprise) responsibilities, I wanted to work on Sunday as well. Little did I know that Valentine’s day is THE day to head to the beach. Three beach bars were trying to have the loudest music to attract the gorgeous crowd. I have to say, Sierra Leonean people in general are absolutely gorgeous but seem unaware of this (though I did catch four women turn around for a guy’s camera to show off their derrieres proudly).
So I gave up on being studious at the end of the afternoon and headed to the beach with Chani where we met up with some of her friends, had a ‘star’ (beer) and talked a lot about everything and nothing. Although I never really liked beer much, a cold star on the beach is divine. It’s a mild beer, not so bitter, more like white beer. I also tried ‘Best’, which is bailey’s in a little plastic bag. The sort you get ketchup and mayonnaise in when you have a canteen lunch somewhere. Chani taught me how to do Poj (tennis balls in socks you swing around elegantly...or not, in my case. But I’m learning!!)

I’m sure my stories will get shorter, don’t worry...keep tracking me J

First days at Lakka

In the beginning there was a... (f)light

Which left on time (Heathrow airport 11.10), arrived on time (Lungi airport 18.05), the person to pick me up was there, the car to take me to the boat was there, the Pelican ferry was almost there and the boat trip did not last longer than necessary (25 min, which is normal) and my second pick-up was ready with an EFA van in Freetown. The day after my arrival I had a meeting with the director of EFA (at 9am) who was already up working at 6. No sign of ‘African timing’ so far.

A little anxious about wondering around Lungi airport all by myself I tried to spot nice people to pretend to belong with. Having breakfast at Heathrow airport I spotted two elderly people dressed in matching turquoise outfits (incl. Earrings on the woman), outdoor trousers and shoes, carrying a camera bag. They went for the full English breakfast at ease and I figured they must have decided to get to Heathrow well in time just in case, like me. And indeed they were going to Freetown but I could get nothing from them but a reserved smile followed by a quick look away. Next possibility appeared to be 2 English men but after having spotted them having beer after beer and the stewardess advising them to have coffee I didn’t pursue my intentions to tag along with them. Good for me as they were stopped by customs. By the end of the flight I’d accepted I would and could face the airport without having to pay my way through local ‘services’ I didn’t want or need when I met an Indian pilot from London. He was nice enough to pretend we were together which helped me through the airport as 'rich' as I entered the building. I could make my way to ‘my sign’ and was met by a Pelican ferry member of staff that guided me to the water taxi. The sign said Fee-Fee Romein and consequently I was referred to as Fi-Fi (a name we give to poodle dogs in Holland).

It’s not unheard of that you need to wait an hour for the boat and crossing the water can take more than an hour (ok, no complaining is justified here since going by land would take 3 hours at least). I really felt sorry for the personnel of the ferry company. They carried all bags on their head (23 kg of my stuff alone). The passengers were spread evenly over the boat equipped with a life jacket. The fine balance was required to stabilise the boat. Our luggage was transferred on a different (open!) boat leaving most of my stuff damp.
I was met at the other side of the water by an EFA member of staff driving the EFA car with seatbelts (!), by which time it was dark. We drove along the coast with the lights of Freetown on the left and the sound of rolling waves on the right. Little stalls with, I’m guessing, kerosene/paraffin lamps decorated the scene. People selling bread rolls and (in the dark) unidentifiable items which I’m sure I won’t recognise during the day either.

Thank god I don't have to experiment with local foods. Samuel, the caretaker of the guest house, has offered to cook us a local meal (yam, yam leaves, spicy fish etc) and then take us to the market to show us what we had. Since there are no facilities to cook right now we get boiled water/eggs from Sam and he also brings in fresh bread and fruits in the morning. The beach bars offer yummy meals for 30.000 Leones (I was ripped off knowingly but too tired to bargain) and 20.000 if you try hard. 5.500 Leones is 1 euro (I wrote this 1 day ago, today it is 5.200 leones)
Sam's wife does laundry, Sam's friends can cook a meal for 4000 leones and 1000 leones 'running commission' (to make sure we get the food fast and warm). I'm really not bothered about not having cooking facilities. It's great to eat locally grown products prepared by locals and to be able to support them for less than a trip to the supermarket/groceries would cost.

There’s another volunteer here named Chani. She’s half Dutch half Irish and sort of the director’s personal assistant. We’ll probably be working together a lot as she’s apparently the more technical info coordinator. It was nice to be met by her and taken to the beach the day I arrived to have some local delicacies and a fizzy drink with a tissue. Up until yesterday we had no idea what the tissue was about. I thought the waiter must have noticed my shiny face and decided to give me a tissue to wipe myself dry a bit. I've now heard another theory which unfortunately makes more sense: the crates with drinks lie around for weeks. Mice run around and pee everywhere. The tissue is to wipe off any possible pee. Oh dear. Speaking of animals, we have 7 dogs, lots of gekko's and salamanders. Mice. Spiders. I wish I could recognise the birds! It's unbelievable how many stray dogs are running around. And stray puppies! I need to refrain myself from touching them. They're probably nice little furry rabies balls.

My first night in the guest house was pretty sleepless because the moment I touched the bed one of the slats/slates (?) fell through the framework and I had to rearrange all to spread them evenly and didn’t dare move a limb at night. I’m also not quite accustomed to the sounds here. Birds, dogs, people, beach. I can hear the sea rolling in 24/7. It’s a strange luxury to have! If it weren’t for the sun threatening to turn me into a Fi-Fi hotdog I’d be acclimatising in the sea nonstop. The second night however was fine after a little drop of Jameson Whiskey and a swim in the sea (not in this order). I also had my first local (1 euro) dinner: chopped spaghetti on a bed of beans garnished with 3 salad leaves and a chopped egg with mayonnaise. Everything is nicely spiced up here and after a day of heat and no hunger the plate of carbs was very welcome after my refreshing swim.

The morning of the 11th I had my first official meeting with Tommy, the director. I have a better idea of what I’ll be doing as information officer and lots to read on my little USB stick. Tommy will be away most of the time and this job requires and stimulates a lot of independence and creativity. I’m hoping to have a better idea of the history and projects by next week . As the information officer I’m hoping to make the website more informative. If I were a donor or investor I would not be sure what I was investing in by looking at the website. And these days a website is the primary source of info for people to get an idea of what’s going on in an organisation. Also I’ll be writing the annual report. Which is actually a tri-annual report and requires lots of interviewing. I’m hoping that some site visits will be necessary as I’m dying to see more of the country and really get a better understanding of projects by seeing them and asking questions directly.

EFA is also looking for someone to continue with its Renewable Energy Program (REP). Someone with a passion for renewable energy, ready to get some field experience and administrational and organisational capacity. Know someone willing to commit for at least 1 year please let me know :)

If you've made it all the way down here: thank you for your devoted time and interest. It's highly appreciated.

Off I go

You made it! Welcome to my blog.

This is where I'll be posting a few notes every now and then to keep you English speaking and curious people updated on my experiences as an information coordinator for the Environmental Foundation for Africa (www.efasl.org.uk) in Lakka, Sierra Leone.

After a one year MA in Social Development, a memorable graduation ceremony and lots of hard work and preparation I'm ready to put some (paper)theory into practice and get cracking on real issues.

I'll be flying to London Heathrow this evening, stay a night at a friend's place in London and head off to Freetown tomorrow morning where, most likely, I'll melt the second I leave the plane.

If I happen to have a vague impression of a body left I will update you as soon as I can on my first and, most likely, overwhelming impressions. I'm not sure what things will be like in detail: whether I'll be walking around like a salt chrystal because the sea is the only place to bathe or wether I'll start smoking because the only way to communicate across some distance is through smoke signals.

I do have a suspicion that an info coordinator should (=I will) be able to access and deal with info (e.g. the world wide web).

Que sera, sera...