Maureen's Update from Sierra Leone #4: When Someone Gives You a

Una Kushe, I just got back from my first overnight trip to Mamaka Village. We got there pretty early in the day, so rather than be too much of a huge disturbance in school, I just took the photos I needed and tried to quietly keep my distance. Then we discussed the meeting that we were going to have later with the village (I do mean the whole village, you have no idea how intimidating this is) about completing the school.

I met Yusef on my original visit to the school. He's in 3rd grade and I was surprised when he spoke English to me. This is quite a feat for a third grader considering this is his third language (most of his village speaks Temne, which is very difficult, at least to me, it took the entire two days for me to master "thank you" "momo" and "you're welcome" "yo"). Anyway, he and I clicked. He was the only kid that would smile in photos, and who was really talking to me that much.

Yusef is blind in his left eye. On my first visit, I didn't pay much attention to it. Not that blindness is something to sneeze at, but in a country with two major hospitals, no national healthcare program at all, and several natural diseases that cause blindness, I just assumed one of these factors had been the cause. After school that day he came and found me. He kind of climbed up the porch I was sitting on and I motioned him to come sit so we could chat. A bunch of older girls had already gathered and were giggling intermittently at me, we were going through the take your picture, show you, you laugh, now we're friends routine.

Yusef and I got to chatting and since he was wearing an Italy Soccer t-shirt I (so stupidly) asked him if he liked to play football. He pointed to his eye and shook his head. I asked him how that happened. I think he was explaining it to me in Krio because I caught the word mother. At this point I had scared away the girls because they were being kind of mean to Yusef. (Adult authority is an absolute, no need to make any verbal sense, loud noises and hand motions work fine). There were some grown ups gathered around the porch including Osman (the husband of Memuna, Albert's sister, I would estimate he's around 50) who speaks Temne, Krio and English. I asked Osman (pronounced Os like the o in yous, man like man) to translate and as he and the men on the porch listened to Yusef, they actually gasped and hung their heads.

Before Osman translated it back to me, and by this time I was nervous to hear it, he paused and took a deep breath. He said that Yusef and his younger sister were the children of the second wife who had been killed. The first wife, had been angry with the husband (still not clear as to if this man is Yusef's actual father or a step dad due to translation issues), and took it out on Yusef by putting cleaning fluid in his eye, blinding him.

Yusef was just looking at the floor. I was stunned and horrified, as were all the men on the porch. To be clear, this isn't commonplace. Osman, who is a fine example of what it means to be a man, went on to try to explain to me some of the complexities that can arise from having multiple wives (he only has one, he's just speaking on behalf of others). This is something I'd always wondered myself, after a handful of proposals in Egypt and India (always as wife #2 or #3) I not only refused, but would question my suitor as to how it would be that wife #1 really truly wouldn't get kind of P.O.ed at that situation. Not that it would justify unfathomably wretched child abuse, but even in the best case, I would agree with Osman's assessment that a lot of jealousies are going to erupt. That's in addition to the financial burden and other practicalities.

At that point I was having a difficult time not kidnapping Yusef and his sister (yes, Madonna-style). But since I am not Madonna, they technically have a father (even if he's a huge butthole), I would get arrested, I cannot properly raise two kids right now, who knows the multitude of implications taking them from their village to downtown San Francisco might have, and that I'd likely get arrested and thrown in a prison in Freetown (that doesn't sound fun, I bet there are really big spiders in there), I decided against it. For now, through a complex system of generous couriers, I am going to try to write him letters and send him things. I am also going to pay for Secondary School (like high school, but it isn't free here) for him and his sister. Not that this is some hugely expensive task, it's less than $500 USD for the whole thing per kid. Let me know if you are interested, lots of families can't afford it.

But, I still wish I could kidnap him. He's just a smart and kind little boy. And I am pretty sure that story will haunt me forever.

Getting back to the brighter aspects of my visit...a little later Memuna took me on a very long walk through the main street of the village. We were followed by a herd of pickins (children) and I felt a bit like the pied piper. We greeted everyone with good afternoon, which I could probably say but cannot spell, in Temne (oooh 3 words now!). Most of the houses are bafas (walls made out of stick frames, with mud walls and thatched roofs), but there are some made of cement, we passed the chief’s house and the bafa under which town meetings are held. Then we crossed a stream to Mamaka 2 (Mamaka 1 is so large that it has become 2 villages).

After the stream we got to open clearing. It's hard to describe the landscape of Sierra Leone. In many ways it reminds me of Florida, only less flat and the palm trees are nicer here. To the left there was a large pond with lily pads and tall, perfectly straight palm trees off in the distance. To the right there was a larger grassy clearing dotted with more beautiful palm trees. On the way back we saw men just emerge from the forest or the side of the road carrying hoes, they were done with their work day and coming home for dinner.

Just before twilight set in, Memuna asked me if I wanted to see Magbondo Village. Heck yes! Magbondo is about a 30 minute drive deeper into the, forest?, from Mamaka. They are in the midst of completing an application with SLVP for a Primary School as well. So Osman, Memuna, me, the Chief of Mamaka Village and Alie (the brother of another board member of SLVP, Willie) and the Chief's 2 year old son (who luckily was no longer scared, like, ready to cry scared, at the sight of me) jumped in the 4WD and drove deep on the one way dirt road to Magbondo.

We first arrived to find their school, a bafa similar to the one that Mamaka had originally constructed. I photographed away, as it was growing dark. Several grownups were running up to us, the first to reach us was an impressive teacher, the second was the headmaster (principal) who was filling out the application. Then they took me on a tour of their village too. It was beautiful, just like Mamaka. Magbondo is situated on a river and has a natural resource in the river's sand, which they not only use to build but are able to sell or trade to neighboring villages.

Their river was really beautiful. When we came upon it there were a couple of teenagers using a hollowed out tree canoe to transport a bike across the river. She was topless, but not facing me and far enough away that I could photograph them and not be rude. It was a classic bizarre phase of development photo. They also had a kind of baby palm tree forest where they were keeping the piles of sand they'd pulled up from the banks. You'll see the photos, it was really beautiful. Then I emerged from the baby palm forest to see most of the village elders (the whole village is 1,000 people) assembled. Yikes, um, am I supposed to say something? We haven’t even seen their proposal yet and we are now about 5 projects deep and I feel like I could drive in any direction and find 100 projects. Ok, smile, relax, and pretend they are an un-named large high tech company who's account I used to work on, who's "chief" was a big-time yeller.

Actually, it was fine. Memuna helped me out by showing the headmaster another application that we have in for a school that is similar in size to the one that they need. I explained to them about the working in partnership part, made sure they didn't think Osman, Memuna or I was getting paid (common misconception) and that the money comes from private citizens who are donating it. They were so grateful, that they gave me a goat! Here is where I made a large error. I couldn't help it, my goat was totally cute. I was so touched by the gesture, that I was working hard not to cry. While I did manage not to, we said our goodbyes and put the goat in the back of the 4WD and drove back to Mamaka in the dark.

As I was thinking of the goat that was pretty quiet save for a few bleats when we went over bumps, I decided to name him Kevin. To Kevin Luther, this is not meant to be personal, I've always liked the name, and I wanted to give my goat a nice Irish name. Just as an FYI to everyone, if someone gives you a goat as a thank you, it's probably best not to name it. I awoke the next morning to the sound of Kevin being dragged outside to have his throat slit. I quickly got dressed so I could say goodbye and of course, photograph the whole thing, I know, I'm sick. That was also a stupid move because I was then later offered an entire pot of pepper goat stew. I could only eat a small bite. The photos are pretty cool though, if you have a strong stomach, or would like motivation to become a vegetarian.

One more note on that evening and then I should go. Tomorrow we are leaving on a longer trip to visit 4 villages I don't think I will be back until Monday. After dinner that night on the porch one of the adults was shining his flashlight on the ceiling to deliberately watch the festival of insects going on. Very Temple of Doom. I felt my heart rate go up so decided I should remove myself from the situation and look at the stars. I've never seen so many stars. I've been on
safari in South Africa, to remote parts of Mongolia, and India where I thought I'd seen a pretty decent night sky. But I just stood there like an idiot with my mouth open for about 10 minutes before Osman came over and had to ask me what I was looking at. I think we were both perplexed. How had I never seen these many stars, several in different colors and shapes (no, I hadn't had too much palm wine). I think I’d just never been that far from a big bundle of lights before. I bet it looks even better with palm wine though, am looking forward to testing this theory.

Talk to you when I am back from "up country,"
Maureen

Maureen's Update from Sierra Leone 3: Village Life and Nightlife

Una Kushe! I finally got to go up to Mamaka Village and see the Mamaka Primary school! Boy did we disrupt class. It was pretty much mayhem, especially since the doors are the last things that will be put on the school. So all the kids ran out as soon as they saw the 4WD drive up. And I now hear "porto" (Krio and Temne, which is Mamaka's tribal language, for white person, it comes from the word Portuguese, who were the first white people here) in my sleep, and very possibly wave and smile back as a natural response. Eventually, I came to know what it must feel like to be Brittany Spears. I didn't shave my head or anything, but to have that many little kids watching your every move. It's a lot of pressure. In total I've made 3 children cry with terror (yes, it was an accident).

The drive to Mamaka from Freetown is only partially paved and takes about 2 hours. It would likely take 1/3 that if the road were paved. Albert's (SLVP's President) son came with us for the visit to see his Aunts and Uncle. He's been in Freetown these past weeks to get engaged. Congratulations to the proud father! Anyways, Hassan, was telling me that the roads were last paved around 25 years ago. So, they might be in need of a touch up. When you think about it by our standards, they've held up remarkably well. Imagine if a US highway didn't get any maintenance for 25 years. It would probably be undrivable. But we drove this. And slowly, Hassan called it "slow motion" the government of Salone (Krio for Sierra Leone) is paving it again.

We had a traditional lunch of rice (staple crop, served at pretty much every meal I've had) groundnut (peanut) stew and "creatures." Creatures, is what I'm told Albert called the chicken and fish that were added to the mix for protein. After living with a host family in Japan, I think I'm traumatized about eating rituals. Luckily, I'd already been heavily prepped by my Uncle on how this would go. As guests, we would eat first, with the man of the house. Usually with your hands though, we are given spoons because our village knows we don't know what we are doing. When we're full, the plate goes to the women. When they're full the plate goes to the kids. Then, animals. Oh, and one of my favorite things, which fascinated me to no end and I am sure added to my weirdness was that there were chickens with chicks! Kittens, dogs, goats, even the occasional pig (though they were supposed to stay in their pen) running around. And to answer the big question...yes chickens are bloodthirsty cannibals…I have a photo of Hassan proving this.

I am going to write more about the school and the village and village life in my next update. But for this update, I want to do a 180 and talk about Freetown nightlife. My Uncle who is here on a Fulbright scholarship dealing with education is friends with the two other Fulbright scholars. One is an academic in his 50s we think, and the other went to a high school in my hometown (Eastlake class of ‘96) so we've become friends. She took me out with the younger expats to see what the "bar scene" was like on a Friday night here. (Otherwise, I would be in bed at 9).

The first bar we went to was like the foreigner holding tank, 100% ex-pats. I found it kind of odd. But apparently, that was not the usual, so we quickly had a drink there and went to "The Office" which is now the "it" bar in Salone. And it is. It was packed. They had a $7 US cover, which is a lot. It's a lot to even have a cover. Inside was wall to wall people and it was 50% local 50% ex-pat. I should mention here that the subject of Nicole's doctoral thesis is wars that were not necessarily genocidal in motivation during which a high incidence of rape occurred, why, and were there pre-existing conditions and/or red flags that could seen ahead of time to prevent this. She picked Salone and, therefore, as part of her research, highly enjoys chatting up prostitutes. Who, are quite nice actually. And, at what is a very expensive Friday night hotspot, one is bound to find quite a few. In fact, I think most of the ones that we spoke to had no interest in chatting up the guys we came with (most expats here are men, shocking) they wanted to talk to Nicole, because she talks to them, like they are real normal women which they are. It's understandable how under conditions which are Freetown, it might drive someone to do this to feed her baby. Victoria, tried to teach me to dance, but I explained to her what an uphill battle she was facing and she realized that my moving my left hip was dancing, and smiled and politely gave up.

So next up I get to go back to Mamaka village by myself for my first overnight in a village. I am very excited.

And a few administrative things, I think I am having some problems getting through corporate firewalls. If you notice that you aren't getting one of the updates, just let me know. I am not subtracting from the mailing list. Feel free to forward if someone asks or to send me your personal email if you think you are getting blocked.

Gung Hay Fat Choy! (We have a Chinatown complete with Fireworks here too:)

Maureen

Maureen's Update from Sierra Leone #2: Congratulations to General Obama

Una Kushe, I am starting to adjust to life in Freetown, the buzzing, busy capital of Sierra Leone. To give you an idea of how populous Freetown is, Sierra Leone is the size of South Carolina, filled with 5-6 million people 2/3 of which live in Freetown. Honking is a means of communication with pedestrians, "I might need to run you over, please move."

I happily delivered the final amount to the in-country Operations team of the Mamaka Primary School project! My first trip to the village is a day trip tomorrow. Naturally, I am very excited.

Yesterday was a great day to be in Africa. We watched it from a very full government bar/restaurant. After a brief scare that the power was going to go out right before he was introduced, it was smooth sailing for the venue. Other than a Brit at the bar, we were the only non Sierra Leoneans present. Everyone clapped when he was sworn in. I'm pretty sure I was the only one crying, but I'm not sure what the social constraints on public crying by men (most of the patrons were men) are. A lot of people let me take their picture (hard with adults, they will not look cheerful when you see photos and a lot hid alcohol). The best quote was from a man in a tie at the table next to ours who upon seeing the Bush helicopter said, "bye bye Bush. Off to Texas." There is no love lost for him here either. We see plenty of people in Obama t-shirts and a couple of people have even shouted "Obama!" at us (definitely beats "white man," which, I am not a huge fan of getting when alone.)

Have seen many very cool lizards and birds, and one monkey, but it was on someone's porch, so I am not really continuing it. I have high hopes for sightings when I travel to the bush. We've kind of developed a routine here, breakfast at 7:30, then walk to town (hour each way) and complete whatever tasks necessary, followed by an hour online, the reward for this is a Star Beer, Sierra Leone's national brew, quite tasty, at Mr. Bobby's. Mr. Bobby's is probably the most relaxed drinking establishment I've ever been to, I say this because it has no walls, and most of the roof is made of rice bag. Some of my friends at Mr. Bobby's are Mr. Terry Everyday Not Just Today and Shakes, who insists that I am going to become a Sierra Leonean and will only speak to me in Krio. The best thing about Mr. Bobby is how he refers to our new president, "General Obama."

In other news on the strange and unusual front, the symbol of Freetown (on their money, etc.) is this massive 500 year old cotton tree that is right outside their courthouse downtown. Hundreds of bats live in it. Apparently, they are doing a construction/beatification thing to the base of the tree and they upset the bats around the time we were walking by and the bats were all flying around in the middle of the day. It was nuts, an Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom level of bats swarming around in broad daylight in the very center of a city. I had to just stop and stand there.

Like I said, tomorrow is my first visit to Mamaka Village. I am very excited. I will be back with a full report as soon as possible. Thanks again to everyone who has made this possible.

I de go now,
Maureen

Maureen's Update from Sierra Leone #1: Miracle Bras with Actual Miracles & War Criminals who Actually See Courtrooms

Una Kushe (hello to everyone!), from Sierra Leone, Obviously, I got in ok, right off the bat I want all misspellings and incomplete words forgiven due to spotty internet. Now to important business, I was able to "smuggle" (*note to FBI, NSA, IRS, et all, use of quotation marks hereby connotes that I did declare this with US customs and therefore did nothing illegal), a full $16K in USD on my person, 12K of which went via miracle bra, the other 4 in a money belt. Without setting of any of the 6 metal detectors I went through or getting it stolen. It is now safe in our Fortress of a guest house (seriously, it has barbed wire and glass shards on the 10 foot walls that surround it). So I am no longer sweating my a$s off in two layers of unnecessary t-shirts. Thank you to everyone who contributed to the aforementioned padding:)

On the way here, the highlight of my journey was visiting the International Criminal Court in The Hague. I got to sit in on 2 hours of the trial of the former warlord, I'm sorry I mean president, of Liberia, Charles Taylor, who is the top level dude responsible for the war that started in Liberia and spilled over to Sierra Leone, which is why SL is still a total mess now. He was just right there, ok, behind glass, but just sitting there plain as day. His attorney was badgering a Liberian reporter who was thrown in prison 3 times for writing articles that denounced the Taylor regime. Based on the superbly irritating back and forth badgering of the defense attorney, asking the same question 90 thousand ways, I can see why this trial has been going on for almost 3 years now. I was disappointed to find myself one of 4 or 5 (people came and went, mostly press I think) in the gallery. There were 4 other trials going on at the ICC that day. Most of which were African, when I was leaving, I caught someone on the stairs and with broken French, managed to suss out that he was there for a trial involving war crimes in the Congo. And I think one of the other ones was for Uganda, but I'm not certain.

Then I had a day's flight across the continent, from Kenya to Freetown. I flew over Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. I was able to follow where I was via lonely planet map and large rivers/lakes/mountains for a while until the expanse of forest in the DRC got me pretty lost. What I thought was pollution was actually the Harmattan winds (tiny sand) blowing south from the Sahara. They basically make everything look a little smoggy. Then we hit the Atlantic coast, stopped in Accra to change passengers and finally landed in Freetown.

Freetown's airport is actually very far away and separated by a large body of water from the city itself. There are 4 ways to get there. 1. Russian Helicopter (death sentence), 2. Ferry (our choice, more on this later), 3. Old fashioned speed boat with wet landing (for 30 cents US someone will carry you though) or hovercraft and 4. Taxi (about a 4 hour drive, not economical). The ferry was my real introduction to how daily life operates in FT. Conveniently, all of one's shopping can be done during transit. For example, planning on preparing a nice chicken dinner with cucumbers for the family tonight? Just pick up a live (total Golden Child moment) chicken and some cucumbers from the appropriate vendors while seated on the ferry, no sweat.

More to come, we're off to see the inauguration!

I de go now,
Maureen