Una Kushe, we were off for a two day adventure into the northern territory of Sierra Leone. The first village we were to visit was Samaia-Bendugu. To say it is remote, is the understatement of the year. It's the 6th village after the police checkpoint, which comes about 5 villages after the last one on any of the 4 maps I was cross-referencing.I've come to find police checkpoints humorous. Farah, who is driving us in a regular car (it is his village, so even though these roads were not really meant for jeeps let alone cars, he knows the way and will be the program manager should this project application get approved by the board). The policeman here tried to tell us we needed permission from the minister of power because they are building a big hydro-electric dam nearby. (Really, he wanted us to say, we had no such permission, and to give him some cash so he would let us pass). I don't feel horribly angry, because I know how underpaid he is, but we don't pay bribes. We argue, show passports, and promise not to look at the dam (we think the real reason may have to do with the discovery of valuable minerals nearby). At various checkpoints police outright ask for bottled water, oranges, etc, for no reason. Many times it was hard not to laugh outright. I just used the play dumb method and was pretty much ignored anyway because I was a woman and in the backseat.
Anyway, after an estimated 3 hour drive that took 5, through the treacherous mountains over a handful of bridges made with logs that had me reviewing the "when trapped in a car underwater, do x,y,z." We made it to Samaia-Bendugu (Bendugu for short) after night fall, just as the moon and one of the planets was rising. Bendugu needs safe drinking water. They have a well now, but it's open, which means animals can go in it, other gnarly bits can get into it, and it is only located in one spot, so if you don't live near the well, guess what the (usually) girls are spending their whole day doing instead of going to school?They want what's called a Gravity Well (sounds cool, and is a smart system, using...gravity) to provide multiple pumps throughout the village so that everyone doesn't have to spend so much of their day fetching water. Our original plan had been to check out where they wanted to install it, but since the trip took so much longer than planned and we had to be in Fadugu the next day and we aren't engineers, we just made a promise to send our well contractor out to make an estimate. That left us to the ceremony...
First there was a lengthily discussion in Koronko (Koronko is both the name of the tribe of the people living in the 6 surrounding villages in that area and the language they speak) amongst the chief and elders as to what to give us. I was really hoping for NOT a goat.
As the discussion continued, we were taken to our lodging, Jim and I got rooms with a family and Farah slept with his family. After Jim and I "washed" (note a village shower, when there is no running water, is a pebbled surface, walled in by palm branches for privacy, with warmed water in a bucket and a cup, hopefully you remembered your soap and washcloth, PS Shelley, I owe you like a million dollars) we walked to Farah's house for dinner.
Farah's original house had been burnt to the ground by the RUF during the war. Most of the village had fled and returned when it was safe. In his tenacity, Farah immediately rebuilt a bafa (mud walls thatched roof, sturdy home) for his mother (this was going on for Farah while he was age 12-22). And is now in the process of rebuilding a more permanent structure for her, with bricks and a zinc (what we'd think of as aluminum or tin roofing, very common roofing material in W. Africa). When he saw the progress of the new home, he was overjoyed. it's almost complete and ready for roofing. Farah is a pretty amazing guy, it was lovely to see him so happy.
Then a table, two candles and some palm wine were all quickly produced for us. Palm wine is to Sierra Leone as Sake is to Japan or Champagne is to France. I'm told that the best vintages are those imbibed immediately upon being tapped which happens early in the day. As you can glean from the name, Palm wine comes from the sap of a palm tree. It's a little sweet a little sour and I took to it immediately. Of course:) I thought the Bendugu 8pm Vintage was lovely, and after 3 cups I was able to face the latrine, which is a small opening over a deep pit, covered by a piece of scrap zinc. The walls are more palm branches and the door is a World Food Program rice bag. I think it would have been easier to face if a bat hadn't flown at my head the first time I used it.
After we had some Palm Wine, we were serenaded (which, to god, I hope my recording comes out) by the women and some kids sitting around. They sang us a song in Koronko abut the moon and the stars. The lyrics are below, but essentially, it's a lullaby and a child's game, played while passing around a large fruit, when the song stops, whomever has the large fruit (the moon) is the chief and is honored for a brief time, then the song starts again. It reminded me of hot potato or duck duck goose, but in a nicer way. The melody is very catchy and I find myself humming it.
Nde lule lule lule.
Lule kenema lule.
Nde kele kele lule.
Kele kenema lule.
It roughly translates to, I am the star, I am the biggest star, I am the moon, I am the biggest moon (=chief). That is what everyone is singing in the video...scroll down to hear our serenade from the Koronko tribe.
Then we had dinner, African rice, with chicken and groundnut stew, and off to bed. I woke up early because I had to pee. I was given a plastic teapot with water in it. The only thing I understood was, ‘helpful during the war.’ Was this a chamber pot? I wasn't exactly sure if that was what she meant. I knew that if I peed in a non-chamber pot, it would pretty much be the rudest thing ever. So I held it until 5 am, put the headlamp on and faced the bats. Fortunately there weren't any. I also accidentally let a kitten inside, who as it turns out was a family pet,(inside/outside cat, all of them are) and he/she curled up on a big bag of rice in my room. We're buddies.
Then I sat quietly on the porch listening to the morning sounds of the village as dawn came. At first it was like being in a bird sanctuary. Not just roosters, but parrots, probably some bats, pigeons (which as it turns out, our family raises, but has to sell, b/c they think of them as pets and cannot eat them themselves), vultures, I saw one really cool looking giant black one with a Mohawk that is probably definitely endangered, it might be the last of its kind (ok, maybe not, but it was cool looking). Then women started coming out and starting cooking fires. Men started about their morning constitution. Tiny kids started with incredible feats of balance collecting water in 5 gallon jugs and carrying it back home on their heads in near darkness.
I was grateful for the one word I knew in Koronko, "Imwhale" which conveniently, means "thank you" and "hello" so it's very useful for someone in my position. The only other word I was able to pick up was Tubabu "foreigner" (I usually catch this in every language, because heaps of little kids follow us around shouting it, it would be more helpful, if they could shout things like, "where is the restroom," "I am grateful for this meal" but I am thankful for the language lesson nonetheless.)
We went to the Chief’s house for the formal meeting and gift presentation. There was translation English to Krio to Koronko about how the organization works, the approval process and that we need the village to pitch in too and help themselves so that everyone works to get what they want. Everyone seemed to like and understand the idea. ultimately, we were presented with a chicken, a bowl of rice, $1.70 US (in Le) and a goat (thankfully to be delivered via motorcycle, by Farah's very unfortunate brother, and hopefully it will actually go to Farah).
We had to hurry and leave because Fadugu was expecting us at 1pm, we had no cell reception there (oh yes, Salone, is totally up with the cell phone revolution, skipping land lines entirely). So we had to haul if we were to even get to somewhere that we could call YS and tell him we were going to be majorly (like 5 hours) late. So we were in a rudeness sandwich. It's really rude not to accept gifts (i.e. if someone offers you food, you eat it and if someone is expecting you, like a whole village and chiefs are going to be involved don't be 5 hours late.)
Somehow, Farah managed to minimize our rudeness in Bendugu, we just ate some of the rice with fish, not the chicken, which we were able to leave as it would have perished on the trip. And then it was off to meet the famous Y.S. Mansaray and all of the other people I'd been reading about in John's book, "Black Man's Grave," in the village of Fadugu. I will save that for the next update.
Cheers,
Mari (I was finally given an African name! Now if I can only get the 4 year old at our guest house to call me this instead of Mr. Jim, will be all set).
Then we had dinner, African rice, with chicken and groundnut stew, and off to bed. I woke up early because I had to pee. I was given a plastic teapot with water in it. The only thing I understood was, ‘helpful during the war.’ Was this a chamber pot? I wasn't exactly sure if that was what she meant. I knew that if I peed in a non-chamber pot, it would pretty much be the rudest thing ever. So I held it until 5 am, put the headlamp on and faced the bats. Fortunately there weren't any. I also accidentally let a kitten inside, who as it turns out was a family pet,(inside/outside cat, all of them are) and he/she curled up on a big bag of rice in my room. We're buddies.Then I sat quietly on the porch listening to the morning sounds of the village as dawn came. At first it was like being in a bird sanctuary. Not just roosters, but parrots, probably some bats, pigeons (which as it turns out, our family raises, but has to sell, b/c they think of them as pets and cannot eat them themselves), vultures, I saw one really cool looking giant black one with a Mohawk that is probably definitely endangered, it might be the last of its kind (ok, maybe not, but it was cool looking). Then women started coming out and starting cooking fires. Men started about their morning constitution. Tiny kids started with incredible feats of balance collecting water in 5 gallon jugs and carrying it back home on their heads in near darkness.
I was grateful for the one word I knew in Koronko, "Imwhale" which conveniently, means "thank you" and "hello" so it's very useful for someone in my position. The only other word I was able to pick up was Tubabu "foreigner" (I usually catch this in every language, because heaps of little kids follow us around shouting it, it would be more helpful, if they could shout things like, "where is the restroom," "I am grateful for this meal" but I am thankful for the language lesson nonetheless.)
We went to the Chief’s house for the formal meeting and gift presentation. There was translation English to Krio to Koronko about how the organization works, the approval process and that we need the village to pitch in too and help themselves so that everyone works to get what they want. Everyone seemed to like and understand the idea. ultimately, we were presented with a chicken, a bowl of rice, $1.70 US (in Le) and a goat (thankfully to be delivered via motorcycle, by Farah's very unfortunate brother, and hopefully it will actually go to Farah).
We had to hurry and leave because Fadugu was expecting us at 1pm, we had no cell reception there (oh yes, Salone, is totally up with the cell phone revolution, skipping land lines entirely). So we had to haul if we were to even get to somewhere that we could call YS and tell him we were going to be majorly (like 5 hours) late. So we were in a rudeness sandwich. It's really rude not to accept gifts (i.e. if someone offers you food, you eat it and if someone is expecting you, like a whole village and chiefs are going to be involved don't be 5 hours late.)
Somehow, Farah managed to minimize our rudeness in Bendugu, we just ate some of the rice with fish, not the chicken, which we were able to leave as it would have perished on the trip. And then it was off to meet the famous Y.S. Mansaray and all of the other people I'd been reading about in John's book, "Black Man's Grave," in the village of Fadugu. I will save that for the next update.
Cheers,
Mari (I was finally given an African name! Now if I can only get the 4 year old at our guest house to call me this instead of Mr. Jim, will be all set).
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