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...