"I am Sierra Leonean" [Thursday, June 28]

Having finished up her work at iEARN, Sara traveled with Amanda to Lakka Beach, which she described as "rainy, but filled with delicious, fresh seafood and adorable puppies."

While Sara ate barracuda and played with puppies, I went to iEARN and did some teaching before bringing the two new interns, Jyoti and Tamra, back to the YMCA where we met Amanda, Sara and Nick for dinner at Kiemans. Jyoti is originally from Nepal and is a studying at Connenticut College in the US. Tamra, from Australia, is a grad student in the UK.

As I am now doing work for three different NGOs (iEARN, HU, and a third one which I'll write about tomorrow) , I've fallen a bit behind in the blog posts. I'll have those this weekend, complete with an investigation of the hottest rumor on the streets of Freetown: embezzled Libyan rice.

In the meantime, I'll satisfy your ravenous appetite for news from Sierra Leone with a post from Sara:

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I leave Sweet Salone on Saturday, and it’s crazy to think my month here is over already. A few weeks ago I posted a general outline of the national identity project I was doing with the kids at iEARN, and Paul asked me to write a follow-up of how it all went. Overall, I am really happy with the entire process and am impressed both with what the kids produced and their willingness to follow through all the way. I had 15 kids finish the entire poem, down from the original 30 that began the project, which was better than the fall out I had anticipated. Below is just one of the poems that was created. The rest will all be posted, along with pictures and audio footage of the kids reciting their poems in various languages, on a website (that’s my project for the rest of the summer). But for now…

I Am

I am courageous with people.
I am my mother’s son.
I am Fullah.
I am freedom of speech.
I am changing seasons.
I am, blue, white, and green.
I am Sierra Leonean.

-Mamadu Bah, age 19, Freetown

And here’s a little breakdown:

I am courageous with my people
The first day was a lot of free writing, answering questions like “what do you like to do for fun?” “what are your hobbies?” “what are you proud of yourself for?” “what do you like about yourself?”. Over the course of the discussions and the writings the kids narrowed down one sentence; this was supposed to be the way they would like to be recognized as an individual. In a more concrete sense, I framed it as the first thing they would want to tell a stranger about themselves.

I am my mother’s son
The first day also included free writing on the family – we talked about the different roles people play in a family and varying family structures (many of these kids are living with friends or distant family members as the result of deaths or displacement during the war.) The free writing exercise encouraged them to think about the role they were most proud of in their family, and then we manipulated the sentences to show that specific relationship. In Mamadu’s writing he talked about how he respected his mother for all her hard work, and how she cared for him and his brothers,; he chose the sentence “I am my mother’s son” to emphasize how important this relationship is to him.

I am Fullah
The second day we talked about both race and ethnicity, and dissected the dictionary definitions of both words to pinpoint their differences. I gave the kids a scenario of talking on the phone to a stranger, and told them to write down whichever of these identities they would want to tell this stranger. Mamadu chose not to include his race but to include his ethnicity, and did some free writing on the role his ethnicity plays in his life. Some kids chose to include their race and not their ethnicity, and many chose to include just one of their many ethnicities. I was excited to see the variety in this section, as it seemed to me that at this point they really understood the concept of identifying or not identifying with different aspects of themselves.

I am freedom of speech
I am changing seasons
This session we brainstormed in large groups what the kids love about Sierra Leone; the list included everything, from the landscape to the way people treat each other to the jobs people do. Each kid then wrote down two sentences that showed what they love most about their country. For example, Mamadu wrote “I love Sierra Leone because we have freedom of speech” and “I love the changing seasons, the wet season and the dry season, in Sierra Leone.” Then, we turned those sentences into “I am” sentences, and talked about how this showed ownership of, or inclusion of the self, in these positive characteristics. Mamadu loves that his country has freedom of speech, and he is an individual that contributes to that freedom of speech every day; it is a characteristic of his country that can reflect back on his individual identity such that it may become a source of pride.

I am blue, white, and green
This was perhaps the most abstract session of the series, and I was surprisingly pleased with how well the kids responded to it. Blue, white, and green are the colors of the Sierra Leonean flag, and we began with a discussion about what each color stands for. The blue symbolizes the natural harbor of Freetown and it’s potential for importing and exporting, the white stands for unity and peace, and the green stands for the importance of agriculture and natural resources to the country. Then, each kid chose the color that they felt was most significant or important to them, and wrote about why. Mamadu’s first color was blue, and he wrote about how much he eats fish as well as the traditional blue robes that the men of the Fullah tribe wear. This same exercise was done for the second color, and then the third, so that each person had ordered their colors differently and were also given a chance to reflect back on how each relates to their individual lives. I was impressed with how Mamadu saw the blue in the symbolic manner that we talked about, but he was also able to go beyond that and find connections to his life that weren’t part of the main discussion.

I am Sierra Leonean
The final series of the workshop was the only time when everyone wrote down the same sentence; each poem ends with “I am Sierra Leonean”. The kids received back everything they had written, and we reviewed the topics of each line. Finally, we talked again about what a National Identity is and the significance of all of their poems ending this way; the structure of the poem is designed to increase in scope by identifying the individual and then placing him or her in the context of other people and the country as a whole. As such, the repetition of the final line shows that each individual is a part of the same construct, and is meant to create a sense of pride in that identity. Or at least, that was my intention.

Below is the video of Mamadu reciting his poem, first in English and then in Fullah:



Each of the poems is incredibly unique, and on a personal level I loved how well I got to know the kids through each of these exercises. It was a personal challenge on a lot of days to adapt my lessons to the number of kids that were present, or to abandon one way of explanation that was clearly not reaching them for an entirely different one.
I’m excited to put their words together with their voices and pictures, and to put them all side by side in the same format; I think that a lot of what can be taken from this project comes from the compilation of all the poems, by highlighting the diversity of who these kids are and what they are proud of.

Parliament [Monday, June 25]

Three Ministers of Parliament sat in the lounge's plush red chairs as they perused a government document. The woman's colorful African dress contrasted starkly with the bland western suits of her two male counterparts. A photojournalist posed them for pictures, but these pictures were not for his newspaper. He was taking the pictures as gifts for the MPs, as this was their last day in Parliament before it closed for election campaigning.

Satellite TV receivers were stacked behind them on the wall as CNN International declared "Paris Hilton to head home;" the journalists and MPs laughed, unable to comprehend the imported American celebrity. The coverage switched to Baghdad explosions. My journalist friend Edward from ABC television shook his head. I waited for words of sympathy for the Iraqis thrown into war, as the images from Baghdad couldn't be all that different from Freetown in 1999 as the RUF invaded with the mantra "No Living Thing."

As his face displayed his disappointment with the violence unfolding on the screen, Edward said "those Iraqis are crazy - they like to die" as if he was reprimanding a misbehaving schoolboy. There was no sympathy but instead simple disbelief that such tragedies are still unfolding today, as Sierra Leone has already learned the lesson of the futility of civil war. While in most of the western world Sierra Leone is assumed to be violent, people here fail to fit into that mold. They fought a war for a decade which laid waste to everything - and everyone - they had, but now they've moved beyond that and simply want to get on with living. They're disillusioned with violence and conflict, and even if life isn't exactly spectacular - Sierra Leone ranked second to last on the most recent Human Development Index, the UN's measure of quality of life - the vast majority are demanding reform through the democratic process, not violent revolution.

I was at Parliament for the official closing ceremony that released the MPs to go home to campaign for the August 11 elections. As Parliament is on Tower Hill overlooking central Freetown, the walk from town up the hill along OAU Drive and Independence Avenue is a bit tiring and I was in no mood for the hassles of the security screening I was expecting.

Edward went up to the police officers standing outside the building and casually chatted about the days events before displaying his ABC TV badge. It began to rain and the officers motioned for us to come in under the overhang with them. Edward explained that I was with him and I waited for a dreaded questioning concerning my lack of a press pass and demands for a passport that was back in town.

She merely pointed to my backpack and asked "What's in it?" "Cameras" I replied and she waved us through with a smile, not even pausing to inspect my bag. At first I was horrified by the lack of security, but then I realized that when a country isn't waging global warfare, then x-ray scanners and bomb-sniffing canines are probably unnecessary precautions. Upon entering the building, Edward said "make yourself at home" and went to charge his camera battery (he doesn't have electricity at home), leaving me free to roam through the House of Parliament as I waited for the closing ceremonies to begin.

After a few hours, the Speaker came out and informed the crowd of journalists that Parliament session had already informally closed over the weekend and there would be no official event today. It was a little upsetting, as apparently the press people that I know were not notified that the event was cancelled, although I must admit my Krio isn't good enough to understand exactly what he was saying. The MPs who were still around went over to the snack bar for lunch while others gathered their Sierra Leone flag and name placard before departing for a month and a half of campaigning in their districts.

Independence [Sunday, June 24]

I sat on the wooden bench as Jokella's father worked at the hand-made wooden table covered with a plastic Thanksgiving-themed tablecloth. In khaki shorts and a tattered green shirt, he was drawing up an estimate for a new client from his electrical business. The dirt floor had long since succumbed to the rainy season and turned into mud as the rain came in unimpeded through almost non-existent walls supporting a rusting zinc roof.

Jokella returned wearing an extravagant African dress with her five-year-old brother Kelvin in tow. After telling her father goodbye, she led me up the muddy road into the hills above Freetown. Everyone else seemed to navigate the mud without dirtying their clothes. It wasn't long before I heard the usual "white man!" which could be anything from a demand for money or food to simply just shouting to say hello. Rather, today they merely pointed out my mud splattered pants that only minutes before had been immaculate.

When Jokella had asked me last week to go to church with her, I assumed her parents would be coming as well, but it was only the three of us trekking up the hill.

"Are your parents coming?"
"Nope. They're Muslim."
"Oh. So why do you go to church?"
"I like church better."
"But what do your parents think about that?"
"I told them it was my decision and not to interfere."

Silence.

"Do you go to mosque on Fridays with them?'
"Sometimes."

We arrived at St. Augustine's to find hundreds of people in their best African dress. Colorful tie-dye like dresses and wraps competed with elaborate white laces for dominance. A man intoning the prayers of the rosary was joined by some of the churchgoers while others whispered quietly to their neighbors.

The church is built into the side of the hills just outside Freetown in an area called Dwarzak:

The walls were covered in the stations of the cross (with an all-African cast) and also had a painting of the globe - with Sierra Leone at the center. The parish is run by Salesian missionaries from all over the world - the UK, India, Nigeria and Sierra Leone. Today, Fr. Lionel from India celebrated mass but Fr. Cyril from Nigeria gave the sermon, talking about the traditional proverb "blood is thicker than water" - i.e. dangers of tribalism in the upcoming elections. They sang a variety of songs - some I was familiar with, others were in Krio and I could only pretend to sing along.

After a blissfully short two hour church service (as opposed to the four hour marathon I went to a few weeks back), I walked back to the YMCA and spent most of the afternoon meandering around Freetown in search of food (nearly impossible on Sundays) before returning to the YMCA and eating a cucumber, tomato and avocado sandwich on the porch with Adam, a grad student from Texas working upcountry at Mile 91 for the NGO Timap for Justice. The view was even more fantastical than ususal:

The Salesians had invited me to come visit their orphanage in central Freetown, so in the evening I walked over to The Don Bosco Fambul Orphanage. They house about 80 young boys who they've found on the streets. After keeping them for a few months, the Salesians attempt to locate their families and resolve the orginal problem that led the boys to leave their family for the streets - which could be anything from domestic disputes to simple starvation. Ideally, the family will accept the boy back, but if that fails, the boys are sent over to Lungi where the Salesians have a school and job training. The Salesian website for Sierra Leone is over at boscohall.org.

Some of the local volunteers were busy planning for a summer camp they were hosting next month, so I sat in on their meeting as they discussed everything from cleaning the streets to the necessity of serving the students some sort of food during the day. 

It was very impressive as there were perhaps twenty teenagers and university students, all volunteers, planning the summer camp for the younger boys and girls without any supervision from the Salesians. After the meeting, the boys from the orphanage all wanted to talk to me and demanded that I come play with them and hang out, as they were having a goodbye celebration for one of the Salesians from Nigeria who is being sent to Darfur to assist with humanitarian aid. Although I would have loved to stay, I told a mob of very disappointed ten-year-olds that I'd come back some other time, as I still hadn't had a decent meal all day. I went back to the Y and found Mohammed, who took me over to Noreskar at St. John's, the only place in town that seems to serve on Sundays.

Meanderings [Saturday, June 23]

After a fast-paced run through the city with Osmem and a trip to the fantastic Crown Bakery with Sara and Amanda, I tried to walk over to Fouray Bay College to attend a political science class with Dabo, but I somehow walked the entirety of Circular Road in the pouring rain without seeing the road that goes up the hill to FBC, so instead I wandered around for an hour as water stained red-orange flowed down the streets and sellers hawked Le7,000 umbrellas.

After drying out at the Y and with nothing to do having missed the class, I went on a shopping expedition to Siaka Stevens Street. The first item I needed was a new Comium SIM card for my phone. This was pretty easy to find, as the cell phone companies' sell their products just about everywhere and have plastered entire buildings and cars with their logos - the orange Africell, the red and yellow Celtel, the blue Comium.

Next I needed a new "extension," or power strip/surge protector, as I've started keeping most of my equipment here at the Y(instead of iEARN) and there's only two outlets in the room. I bought one last week, but Jess needed one for her new accommodations in Lumley so I sold her mine. The vast majority of the stores are owned either by Lebanese or Indians. I walked into three or four stores and left unsatisfied, as the prices were all too high. I finally realized that their prices were entirely arbitrary, so in the next store I bought one for 25,000 which was, according to his original offer, supposed to cost 40,000.

I stopped by one of the photo stores in an attempt to find black and white chemicals, but was immediately swarmed by a mob of photographers asking if I needed passport pictures. There are probably 50 passport photographers who sit outside the photography store on Siaka Stevens. After finally convincing them I didn't require their services, I was informed that no one in Sierra Leone still used the "old technology" of black and white film.

After a thorough, but unsuccessful, perusal of Choitram's Supermarket in search of Gatorade powder or even a Turkish imitation of it, I returned to the Y and joined Sara, Amanda and Adams, a law & development grad student from Texas taking a short break from work up near Makeni, at Kiemans for an early dinner. Apparently we were too early, as Salima told us to come back later as she still needed to go shopping. As Sara and I were both incredibly hungry, we had a bowl of rice, sauce and soda, but promised to come back in an hour or so when Salima said she would have more food. I went out on Fort Street intending to take some photographs, but only made it about twenty steps from the Y when a quick "how di bodi" materialized a wonderful mob of children demanding to ask where my sisters where. I played with them in the street for a bit and then went back to the Y to get my sisters Amanda and Sara. The kids loved the attention and will stare with these big beautiful eyes, although there were a few who were terrified of us.

After plenty of jumping up and down and holding hands and running through the streets and throwing balls, we returned to Kiemans for a second dinner. We all thought Friday night night would be the best meal we had in Freetown. We were wrong. She surpassed it tonight. We didn't even have to order, as Salima had prepared a meal just for us. First came rice and a delicious beef boil stew. Then a plate of sliced cucumbers and fresh tomatoes. Then, when we could barely eat any more, she brought out an actual piece of grilled fish fillet and capped it all with fried plantains.

Working on the HU SL OOM [Friday, June 22]

As Freetown was awakening, Osmem and I sprinted up and down Tower Hill, which overlooks central Freetown and serves as the location for Parliament and the Ministry of Defense. We weren't alone - one boy barely in high school and a few college age guys were all running the hill as well. Osmem said it was "good for endurance" and I'm sure he enjoyed beating me, the slow American, up the hill every time.

After a quick breakfast at the Y, I tried to get a taxi over to Murraytown to Health Unlimited, but didn't have much luck. The first taxi wanted Le 7000 and I wasn't about to pay that much for a ride that should cost Le 800. Even pounding on the roof of the taxi didn't lower his offer, so I waved him goodbye. The next driver wanted Le3000 and then the next one Le2000. At that point I was tired of standing in the road and merely consented to the still outrageous offer without even bartering. No one else in the taxi paid more than Le800. Most of the time the taxi drivers are quite reasonable, but every now and then there's the drivers trying to maximize their profit with outlandish prices.

I worked with Tommy at HU to revise (and shorten!) the 45 page HU SL OOM, or Health Unlimited Sierra Leone Office Operations Manual. The INGO community loves acronyms, and Health Unlimited is no exception. The OOM is essentially a document that details the daily operations of the HU project here in Sierra Leone. Tommy is just finishing university and has been at HU since the project began in 2005.

I returned to iEARN around noon at which point Jess, Sara and I went to lunch with Andrew. I considered teaching a session, but I still didn't have a new, suitable lesson plan that is actually realistic, so I spent a bit of time thinking about different ways of teaching photography. Meanwhile, Sara continued on with her identity sessions, in which the kids are writing some incredible poems about their nation.

That evening Sara, Moses and myself went down to Kieman's (I finally remembered the name!) - the little place just down Fort Street from the Y. I'll let Sara finish describing the day:

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After waiting for the pouring rain to let up, Paul, Moses and I ventured down to our favorite dinner place on Fort Street. The little restaurant is run by Salima, the best cook in Freetown. Every night it’s a gamble what she’s going to have made- we usually cross our fingers and toes for groundnut soup, but plain white rice is just as likely (and no longer constitutes a disappointment). I just order whatever Salima promises doesn’t have beef in it and hope for the best; after explaining to her that I’m allergic to beef she now makes a point of preparing at least one dish every night with just fish, which is beyond wonderful of her.

Tonight, I hit bank.

Tonight, placed before me was a plate of rice, beans, fried plaintains, and a fish cake…and my jaw dropped to the floor. The fish tasted like a fillet at home on the Cape would, I could feel the protein from the beans coursing through my body with every bite, and fried plaintains are perhaps my favorite food in the world, period. It was a meal fit for a king. I ate every bite, declaring with each one that it was the best meal I’ve ever eaten in Freetown, and felt sufficiently overindulged by the end. Before we left I gave Salima a huge hug, thanked her profusely, and left an 80% tip (in a city that doesn’t tip). I think she was a little overwhelmed by my unceasing enthusiasm, but after 4 meals in a row of white bread my body was on deliciousness-overload, and there was no curbing my excitement.

On the walk home, I declared it would only be right to celebrate such a fabulous meal with a pack of Jingles.

Jingles.

Jingles are, quite simply, magical deposits of happiness hiding inside a plastic wrapping. One rip of the package reveals kaleidoscope swirled biscuits, and one bite of biscuit reveals a surprisingly delicious fudge filling. Upon closer inspection we’ve also realized that there is no point of entry for said fudge filling, and thus the only logical explanation is that the fudge is deposited there by elves in an elvish factory. This theory of elf involvement can also lend credence to both the delicious quality of the cookies, as well as their multipurpose nature. Jingles aren’t just dessert – they can be breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and over the past three weeks have served each of those purposes on more than one occasion in the same day.

We stopped outside the Y at my daily Jingle dealer, and as usual her two year old son giggled and yelled “white man” at me. His mother and I are working very hard to get him to call me “white woman”, though our efforts have proven completely unsuccessful thus far.

I finished the packet of Jingles promptly after returning to the room; they were a most appropriate exclamation-point to my night of gluttony. Moses picked up the empty packet with a look of disbelief and then laughed at me for awhile as I lay in food coma.

Sometimes, it’s the little things. Other times, it’s a plate full of good food and a pack of Jingles.

School's out! [Thursday, June 21]

After waiting for a morning downpour to pass over, I took a poda over to Health Unlimited. Poda rides are always exciting, as long as you're patient and don't mind the apprentice and driver squeezing even more people into an already crowded van. This particular one was plastered with the very popular stickers that say "The blood of Jesus is my weapon" and "My family is covered in the blood of Jesus." One of the windows was simply not there anymore and the empty hole was covered in a plastic sheet, which was not very effective in keeping out the rain. After arriving a bit late at HU as I had underestimated the traffic, I worked with Ingrid on a revising a few documents and also met briefly with the two local staff members, Tommy and Samuel. The building is quite spacious and some of the rooms are even air-conditioned. My office lacks the cold air, but I guess the fantastic views from the windows make up for it.

At around 12 I took a taxi to iEARN where I spent a few hours doing a little bit of everything. My photography program is encountering some difficulties: inconsistent attendance, ballooning class sizes, and age differences (my youngest student in 14, my oldest is 29), just to name a few. I'm going to try to restructure the classes and possibly even pare down the sizes a bit. There are three new interns coming this Saturday, so I'm hoping that we can work together help to relieve a few of the problems. Also, exams are wrapping up this week at all the local schools, so soon the students should be able to come to the center on a more regular schedule.

Anyways, I returned to YMCA around 3 so I could re-do my lesson plans as the constantly excited iEARN center is not the best place for quite work. Sara and Jess came back a bit later. Moses had his last exam today, so we (Sara, Amanda, Moses, Mohammed, and myself) all went over to the place down Fort Street (I should really find out the name!) to celebrate with groundnut stew and rice. The lady even brought out some very tasty meat skewers for free...our total for dinner was Le16,500, which is about $5.50. Not bad at all for 5 people!

I talked to Mohammed for a bit and spent most of the evening working on some HU documents before going to bed early, as Osmem is supposed to meet me at 6:15 tomorrow morning...

"Just for you" [Wednesday, June 20]

The sun was peaking through the morning smog as Osmem led me through the streets of Freetown. We were alone on the road, with only the occasional poda and taxi disrupting the prayers of the mosques and the bells of the churches. Osmem wore navy blue England soccer shorts and a white Predators jacket - apparently the early morning heat was too cold for him. I felt great and was keeping up with him despite not having actually trained seriously for several months. About 15 minutes into the run he dashed my hopes:

"How is the pace?"
"Fine, Fine."
"You are tired?"
"Not yet - the pace is fine."
"Good. We run this pace just for you."

I had managed to convince myself he wasn't all that fast, but he was running slow just for me. I'm amazed every day by people's willingness to go out of their way for almost total stranger like me. Although the original plan was to run to Aberdeen and then to Lumley Beach, Osmem declared that we would have to turn back at Congo Town, as I needed to be back in time for work. Not to worry - he has promised to run with me to the beach on Friday. Osmem runs just about every event from the 200m to the 10,000m in competitions at the National Stadium. On the way back we ran (quite literally) into Mariam, one of the girls on the team who runs the 400m.

After a wonderfully frigid shower and breakfast at the Y, I took a taxi over to Murraytown instead of the usual Syke Street /National Stadium area. As iEARN takes a bit of time each day to get up and running, I am going to be working at the international NGO Health Unlimited in the mornings and then go to iEARN for the afternoons. Thanks to a very helpful taxi driver, I was able to find the HU office without much trouble.

Based in London, Health Unlimited is currently implementing a three year "Safe Motherhood" project in Bombali, a district in the north on the border with Guinea. The relevant details and a few pictures can be found at the project website.

I'll be working at the Freetown office for Ingrid, the country director, and will be concentrating almost entirely on the administrative and logistical aspects of the project. After a tour of the office and some delightful South African tea, we had lunch over which Ingrid briefed me on the various initiatives I'll be working on. The current European Commission project funding will expire next spring, so I will be assisting her with several new funding proposals while also helping to "westernize" the office. Although it will be challenging work, I'm excited as HU will provide a very different perspective than my current work. At iEARN, I'm interacting with the target youth everyday in a small setting - I know every single person involved with iEARN, from students to staff to board members. At HU, I may never even see the people my work is impacting as I'll be in the "removed" headquarters office of an international NGO. This reminded me of an interesting poem about development which a friend emailed me a few months back:

The Development Set
by Ross Coggins

Excuse me, friends, I must catch my jet-
I'm off to join the Development Set;
My bags are packed, and I've had all my shots,
I have travelers' checks, and pills for the trots

The Development Set is bright and noble,
Our thoughts are deep and our vision global;
Although we move with the better classes,
Our thoughts are always with the masses.

In Sheraton hotels in scattered nations,
We damn multinational corporations;
Injustice seems so easy to protest,
In such seething hotbeds of social rest.

We discuss malnutrition over steaks
And plan hunger talks during coffee breaks.
Whether Asian floods or African drought,
We face each issue with an open mouth.

We bring in consultants whose circumlocution
Raises difficulties for every solution-
Thus guaranteeing continued good eating
By showing the need for another meeting.

The language of the Development Set
Stretches the English alphabet;
We use swell words like 'epigenetic',
'Micro', 'Macro'. and 'logarithmetic'.

Development Set homes are extremely chic,
Full of carvings, curios and draped with batik.
Eye-level photographs subtly assure
That your host is at home with the rich and the poor.

Enough of these verses -- on with the mission!
Our task is as broad as the human condition!
Just pray to God the biblical promise is true:
The poor ye shall always have with you.

(from the book The Lords of Poverty)

After fighting the midday traffic, I arrived iEARN and helped a few students with their self-portraits before editing a video of the small arms event on last Saturday. Sara did a few identity sessions while Dabo took Jess over to tour the Special Court.

Amanda and I went down Fort Street to the usual, absolutely delicious place for a dinner of boil stew. Nick returned from the site and met us for dinner. In the evening I finished editing the small arms film and began to read Blood Diamonds by Greg Campbell. It is an easy-to-read account (no political science background required!) of the author's experiences in post-war Sierra Leone, although perhaps a bit sensationalist.

Miracles [Tuesday, June 19]

After one of the ladies brought up to our room the standard breakfast of tea, bread and jam, I ventured over to Soldier Street and walked it from end to end, simply observing everyone going about their business. Soldier street is a primarily residential side street and I might do some photography work along it. While walking I met Frederick, who lives with his family somewhere along the street. He's quite proud of his five girlfriends; two live with him and the other three live in various homes along the street. Like most Sierra Leoneans, he was quite willing to share everything with perfect strangers, and girlfriends were no exception.

I decided that now would be an excellent time to invent having very strict girlfriend back in the US. I informed him that this new girlfriend back home is quite attached and doesn't like sharing me. Unfazed, he asked if I was Christian and offered to take me to church on Sunday instead. I declined that one as well. He finally just asked if I could be his padi (friend), which I finally accepted.

I then took a taxi over to Sykes street and the Stadium; not much was happening at the center, so I met Sara, who had left a bit earlier, at the internet cafe above the NP station off of Main Motor Road a few blocks from the Stadium. Sara left a few minutes before I did, and in those few minutes the skies opened up and unleashed a downpour that lasted most of the afternoon. I didn't have a rain jacket with me and didn't feel like risking getting my electronics wet, so I just did what everyone else does when it rains - wait. I went over to the Pride Restaurant across the hall from the internet cafe and just chilled, waiting for the rain to move on (The gas station and convenience store are downstairs with an internet cafe and restaurant upstairs). As I had nothing better to do, I enjoyed a Fanta and played around with my camera, which resulted in this rather non-exciting video:



When the rain finally let up, I went back to the center where I found Sara and Jess, the new intern from the Canada. She graduated from Princeton this spring and will be working at iEARN as well. Sara taught another identity session and afterwards we went with Dabo to lunch. Andrew came in a bit later as he had a meeting with one of the donor NGOs this morning; he and Dabo introduced Jess to the students and briefed her on the details of iEARN Sierra Leone.

I did yet another self-portrait class for those who missed it last week. Students filter in and out - sometimes they won't show up at all one week and then be there everyday the next week. The general lesson plan is to write about some topic (yourself, family, community, dreams etc...) and look at some sample images; then the students can come back and check out a camera for an hour or so to actually take the photographs. This second step has been incredibly difficult to put into practice, as the students might not show up again for a few days or if they do actually take the self portrait, it is often little more than a candid snap shot. Today I had students ranging in age from 14 to 29 in the same class, which makes for very interesting dynamics, especially as the boys have a tendency to drown out the already timid girls.

After spending the afternoon at iEARN, Sara and I helped Jess get situated at the YMCA. She'll be staying here at the YMCA with us, increasing the expat population here to an impressive five. After a candlelit dinner at our favorite place down the street, we came back and spent the evening hanging out on the porch and in the room. Amanda and Harry were interviewed on UN radio tonight about the community center so Nick and I listened in with a few of the YMCA staffers. Amanda is the Project Coordinator for the Miracle Corners of the World community center and is directing the construction of Sierra Leone's first self-sustaining community center in Kissy; Harry is her Sierra Leonean counterpart. More details about her project can be found at miraclecorners.org.

One of the callers on the show was somewhat confused by the name of organization and asked what kind of miracles would be performed at the community center and who would be performing them. However, most of the callers on the show offered plots of land for Amanda to come build more community centers; there is certainly an enthusiasm for development.

Running through disorder

I woke up with the bright idea to put socks on for the first time in almost three weeks and slide on those bright orange and black Nike running shoes and pound through the streets of downtown Freetown in the early morning hours. The streets aren't too bad before 7:30, but in certain areas, especially out east, the roads are incredibly congested with terrible traffic. Thanks to my whimsical style of running, randomly turning down streets that look interesting, it was only a matter of time before I was dodging podas, taxis, buses pouring out diesel fumes, women with towering baskets, children selling plastic bags of corn flakes, business men and school children all while trying to avoid puddles of water and piles of trash on the sides. I was trudging along at a fairly relaxing pace enjoying the morning when a young man ran by wearing a backpack. I struggled to keep up with him, hindered not by speed, but by his nimble flight through the chaos that is central Freetown.

While my Krio is absolutely terrible and his English too broken for us to communicate effectively, it turns out that this young man by the name of Osmem is a member of a running club that meets everyday in the Freetown heat to run. I can't wait to run with a group, although I have a feeling that these guys are going to leave me in the dust.

The entire day without African food on Sunday may have been a bad idea, as I wasn't feeling so great the after my run, which probably only compounded the problem. Anyways, I'll spare everyone the details, but after a dive into medicine bag (for the first time), I felt great. Thankfully the water was on, and so after a quick shower, Mohammed brought to the room the usual breakfast of bread, cheese, tea and butter. For about 10 minutes this morning the electricity was randomly working- it turns out that there is a electrical grid in Freetown, but that it simply isn't used very often. It was very strange to have electricity and not hear the hum of the generator outside.

Anyways, Sara and I took a taxi over to iEARN. We no longer get charged thousands of Leones for a ride around town - once you understand the taxi system, it actually isn't too bad and most of the drivers are fairly helpful, even if they are ex-rebels.

There are three types of cars on the streets of Freetown: taxis and podas, the SUVs of NGOs, the UN, and the government, and the occasional private car (usually very nice ones at that, even by Western standards) of the wealthy. Taxis and podas are always blinged out with extra lights, both inside and out. Popular accessories include multiple roof racks, side mounted fire extinguishers and extra radio antennas. Some podas have a generator running in the back powering roof mounted speakers several feet tall, providing a mobile jam session. Taxis always have their windows down in the stifling heat. For some reason the window cranks are always missing; I guess some people like to steal the window cranks from taxis, although I'm not sure what you do with them as there isn't exactly much of a market for window cranks. Anyways, when it begins to rain the driver passes around the one remaining crank he keeps on his door and each passenger roles up their window.

When we finally arrived at the center, I wasn't feeling the best and so didn't do much teaching and only sent two girls out with cameras. Sara ran another identity session, focusing this time on race and ethnicity. Nothing too exciting happened at the center today. I also set up two donated iBook laptops - one that I brought over, one that one of the previous interns brought - for the kids to use; once the network people come over and configure the network their will be two more computers for use. I'm pretty excited about that, especially as we won't be messing around with anti-virus software on the Macs.

We returned to the Y and went with Amanda for some groundnut soup and rice at the usual place just down Fort Street - it easily has some of the best African food in Freetown and is run by a jovial lady who always brightens the day with a smile. After dinner, we went down to supermarket.

I love that place. I just walked up and down the aisles staring at all the imported Western food. Thankfully my inability to make decisions when confronted with so many options resulting in me only purchasing a package of fantastical chocolate chip cookies for Le6000. Sara found some Haribu gummy bears and a jar of honey.

We bought some bananas on the street after unsuccessfully attempting to outrun some sort of parade full of men in red shirts, as we had no interest in joining the crowds. The banana seller didn't seem to realize that we were in a hurry and trying to avoid the parade rapidly approaching; thankfully, they seemed to be just a rowdy Freetown crowd marching through the streets/ After returning to the Y, the three of us sat on the balcony with Nick and devoured bread, bananas, peanut butter and honey sandwichs while watching the sunset.

Artistic Explosions

Sunday in Freetown is perhaps the only quiet morning of the week - at least until the boisterous church services start at 11.  Although I was planning on going to church with Jokella (one of my students) and her family, her aunt was sick so she postponed until next week. After a light brunch of bread, jam, butter, and tea at the Y, Amanda, Sara and I tried to go the supermarket to find some more food, but they weren't open on Sunday, so we ended up taking a taxi to Aberdeen Junction and stopping by an internet cafe where we met up with Amanda's friend Bami.

Bami used to work at iEARN as the music director, but has since moved on to work solo - his songs were all the rage at Paddy's last summer and can often be heard on the radio. Last year he worked with the cafesociety.org team from Hull - Freetown's sister city in the UK - and became such good friends with them that he will be flying to the UK in the next few days to spend two months recording and learning. He was supposed to leave on Saturday, but the British Embassy denied his visa application, so he'll be leaving as soon as it gets sorted out. The music industry is thriving in Freetown - there are multiple recording studios and the market is expanding, fueled by five years of peace.

Of note, one group from Sierra Leone - The Refugee All Stars - are currently on tour in the United Sates and are the subject of the film "Sierra Leone's Refugee All Stars." It will air on PBS on next Tuesday, June 26 at 10PM on PBS. The PBS website has more info at PBS Point of View: Sierra Leone. The filmmakers' website is refugeeallstars.org and the band's site is over at Refugee All Stars. Special thanks to a reader from St. Louis for the heads up about the film. I have embedded the trailer below.

Ishmael Beah, a former child combatant who wrote the book A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier, commented in a recent interview on this post-war artistic explosion: 

"People don't have clean drinking water, no electricity, no employment, the youth are hanging about feeling worthless because they can't afford to go to school. The devastation continues unnoticed to this day... Through literature, arts and music, the youth of Sierra Leone can expose what continues to unfold in their country. I believe that this is the only medium that is left."

We went out to get a poda to Aberdeen, but before we found one, two guys offered us a ride. They were just driving around "looking for things to do and getting the party started," although it was only 2pm. People seem to party here all day. We went for lunch at Family Kingdom before venturing down the beach, which was packed with hundreds of people playing football and relaxing. We managed to make it to a covered market just as a downpour cleared the beaches. The dimly lit market had about twenty stalls, each with a seller who pesters you with "This is nice" or "excuse me" or "you like this?" The initial prices are rediculous, but ususally if you offer half of what they say, it isn't too bad. Sara and Amanda bought some jewelry and cloth. I tried to get a hammock for Le 60,000, but Bami and I couldn't find a suitably large one.

We then dashed over to a covered porch near the road to try to hail a taxi, but instead Bami called the man who drove us over to Aberdeen earlier - he had offered to drive us around wherever we needed to go. While we waited for him to arrive, we met a "Gucci Blinger" (as Sara described him) man standing guard on the porch with this little light brown cat. He was covered in gold and diamond everything - belt, belt buckle, earrings, teeth, shoes, hat, shoes. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera, but I might go back just to get a picture of him. Anyways, our friend showed up and drove us back to the center, although this time we had to pay him Le10,000.

We relaxed for a bit at the YMCA before going out in search of food again. Mohammed, who works at the Y and knows just about everything and everyone in Freetown, couldn't find anywhere nearby that was open on Sunday evening, so we headed back to Aberdeen to the Indochine Restuarant which serves "Vietnamese, Chinese, and Thailandese Foods." It was absolutely amazing - I had "Grilled Lamb with Thailandese Sauce served on Steamed Rice." We were supposed to meet Bami at one the beach bars, but instead decided to just go back to Y and sleep.

On the taxi ride home, we were blocked by four men pushing an out-of-gas Land Cruiser.

Amanda (joking): Bad decision. This is going to be slow. Why don't you go up and give them a push with your car?
Our Driver (absolutely horrified): No. They will die.

He said that with incredible seriousness and mortification - as if we had no idea of that the force of his car would crush the men in between the two cars. We all immediately burst out laughing which only increased his horror at our apparent utter disregard for human life. I think we scared him very badly - he didn't say another word the rest of the way home, shocked by our lack of concern for his fellow countrymen. The English here is somewhat archaic, which often results in situations like this. For example, I've learned not to use the phrase "How's it going?" since that only garners a response of "Nowhere. I'm staying here."

After returning the YMCA, I talked with fellow YMCA resident and war photographer Wolf Böwig about photojournalism while on the balcony overlooking the city. He is returning home to Germany on Monday for a few weeks before going back to work - the war zones across Africa, the Middle East, and South Asia. While most modern work in such areas tends to be sensationalist, his photographs retain a powerful and intimate respect for the individual. His work will be on tour throughout Europe and the US this fall and will also be published in a book this October. I seriously encourage you to take a look at his work over at kurosafrica. I have not been able to find details of his US tour or book, but if someone can find them, send me an email. 

A different Weapon of Mass Destruction

Today we moved from Aunt Jennie's house at the Wilberforce Army barracks to the YMCA hostel in town. The homestay was fantastic, but we didn't want to bother the family any longer, as having two extra people around is a bit of a burden when there is no running water or electricity.

Saying Goodbye to Aunt Jennie

The YMCA hostel itself is very safe, although it may be a bit out of place - it is surrounded by a drug treatment center on one side and corrugated aluminum housing on the others. Their website may be viewed at http://www.ymca-sl.org/hostel.php.

After the move, we went with Moses to iEARN for the Day of the African Child festivities. All day there were parades through the city with hundreds of children marching in commemoration of the 1976 massacre of children in Soweto by South African police forces. NPR has a decent account of what happened over at Soweto 1976: An Audio History.

At iEARN, Andrew hosted a forum on small arms and invited Abubakarr Sheriff of SLANSA, the local organ of controlarms.org, as well as some students from Fouray Bay College. The iEARN students paid perfect attention as Abubakarr talked about issues that are usually left for college political science lectures in the US, such as human and state security, non-state actors and the international arms trade. I was amazed by their interest - I could never imagine forty students back home spending two hours listening to several people lecture on the dangers of small arms.

SLANSA is working to ratify an international small arms treaty, which, at least in theory, would limit the availability of weapons. Additionally, there is some regional ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) legislation to a similar effect being considered.

He said small arms were "West Africa's weapons of mass destruction," which given the societal collapse wrought by the unfortunately iconic AK-47 and other weapons, is a fairly accurate statement. Edward, Andrew's friend from ABC television, was there and filmed the event for broadcast. The iEARN students did a short skit and sang a song about small arms. I took some pictures while Mohamed Mbayoh of iEARN filmed it as well. He's about my age and loves to use iEARN's video camera:

After the forum we went returned to YMCA. Sara had a craving for rice and salt, so we purchased a small plastic bag of rice on the street and then almost mortally offended the owner of one of small restaurants here by putting additional salt on her rice. Later that evening we went out for dinner with Amanda at D's Bazar a few blocks away before returning to the YMCA for the evening. When the lights went on at 7, I stood mesmerized by my ability to turn them on and off. It was great. We chilled on the third floor porch with Amanda and Nick, the engineer from the US for the community center she's building, for a bit before going into bed.

Cameras and the police

Friday, 15 June

"Hey white man, your sister is very nice..."
Sara and I ignore him and keep walking.
"Very fine."
This guy's persistent.
"I want her to be my wife."
Finally I can't stand it any longer. I could explain to him that we're just co-workers and that simply both of us being white doesn't mean we are related or that if he wants to marry her, he should talk to her, not me or that we've already heard that line before but those are all way too complicated. Instead, I turn around and with the most upset scowl I can manage, which isn't very threatening, tell him "we're married."

He immediately issues forth a string of apologies. It was fantastic.
---
After completing the commute down to the Stadium without further annoyances, we went out and bought some bread and Laughing Cow cheese. The center was open, but not very active. By 11:30 a few of my students were there, so I worked with them on their self portraits and handed them my digital camera to go take their portraits with.

Andrew introduced me to Edward, who is a cameraman for ABC television, the only independent alternative to the government-owned official station. He will be filming iEARN's events planned for the Day of the African Child on Saturday. After a brief chat, Sara and I went to Marianella for a lunch of fried rice.

When we returned to iEARN, the self-portrait students were still out taking their pictures, but given the usual pace of life here, I wasn't overly worried. Sara and I did another identity class for those who missed it yesterday. As this session loved to write, it went very smoothly. I can't wait to see how their portraits turned out - they really hit upon some serious topics in their written portraits of themselves, so hopefully the photographs will be equally thoughtful.

The morning self-portrait class stumbled in around 2:30, having finally finished taking their pictures - but not before being arrested by the police. The only explanation I could get was that "the police thought we were trying to kill the children," which I initially found absolutely ridiculous.

Mustapha had wanted to include some street children in the background of his portrait and so the group had taken some pictures of and mingled with the street children. Apparently, they were acting suspiciously and attracted police attention. Mustapha explained that during election time people will try to seduce - with pictures, candy or money - and kidnap children to sacrifice them in hope of good luck in the election. I'm currently in the process of researching this further; if anyone is aware of similar practices elsewhere, send me an email.

I'm actually quite glad that the police arrested them as it shows that the police actually do something besides direct traffic. Thankfully, Mustapha is quite the smooth talker and was able to convince the police of their innocent intentions, but only with the promise to carry a letter describing the project at all times.

Somewhat frazzled, I didn't send any more photographers out and instead spent the afternoon catching up on emails while Sara went down to the restaurant to read a book we borrowed from Amanda about the civil war. We went with Moses back to Wilberfoce, but not before stopping by a shop to buy a 25 kg bag of rice (imported from Vietnam) for Le75,000. This was our last day staying with Aunt Jennie and her family; while it has been a fantastic week-long homestay, we don't want to intrude on their lives any longer, so we are moving to the YMCA tomorrow. We gave the bag of rice to the family in exchange for our stay.

As usual, the house was quite interesting. Ola had made some rice with anchovies, so Moses, Ola, Sara and myself sat on the front porch eating as Joshua had not yet returned from his evening football game after work.

After dinner, we went for a walk up the hill a bit further to a clearing where you can see much of Freetown and the ocean below. Literally a hundred meters further up the hill from where I took the picture below is the current President's compound - he certainly has quite the view from his house.

We returned to the house and chilled on the front porch for a while. Two young neighborhood boys who we hadn't seen before came up with a very injured chicken belonging to Aunt Jennie. A burst of Krio ensued and all we were able to make out was that one of them had thrown a rock at the chicken, mortally wounding it. At that point we went inside, as it seemed to be no place for an outsider with some sort of confrontation occurring about what to do about the dead chicken and a suitable punishment. When I ventured out of Joshua's bedroom a little later, Ola was in the kitchen, cutting up the chicken by the light of the lantern. I don't think she was too happy about it as she had just taken a bath.

For an early evening snack Sara and I continued our sampling of imported cookies with a cookie with "fruit tooti cream filling" from Argentina. It was a bit lacking and perhaps overly fruity. The vanilla ones were more like shortbread crackers than anything else.

"I like to take some snaps"

Thursday, 14 June
We woke up to Junior and Yarabe - the two young men who hang around the house and pretty much live here doing the odd chores - listening to Capital Radio's "The Breakfast Show" which plays a very Western mix (Beatles, Black Eyed Peas, Maroon 5, Simon and Garfunkel, etc...) of music interspersed by a female DJ with a very British accent. Although she predicts SL having a woman president by 2015, she believes much that is too long of a wait and that SL needs a woman president as soon as possible, reflecting Liberia's recent election of economist Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf. She beat out a famous football star, which means that she is not very popular among some Sierra Leoneans.

I sat on back porch with Junior and Yarabe for about an hour, watching people walk by and taking some pictures as they've become relatively comfortable having a camera around. Joshua walked out from our room holding my small point-and-shoot digital camera, saying it was "very fine." I showed him how to "take some snaps" around the house - it was quite the attraction with everyone wanting to see their snap on the screen. He took it to work at Celtel as well, so hopefully there will be some interesting images.

Moses accompanied Sara and I down to Wilberforce from the barracks. The barracks is on either side of the road; the officers live above the road while the enlisted men and the shantytowns are below the road. The barracks are fairly relaxed; there's a few concrete and camouflaged-net guard posts and a bushstick fence that surrounds most of it, with the important buildings having concertina wire around them as well. Other than that, it looks no different than any other part of Freetown. The soldiers' main occupation seems to be manual labor - fetching water and building more fences and guard posts. I've never seen a soldier carry a weapon; in fact, I've only seen two men with guns the entire time I've been here.

Most of the expat community lives in compounds surrounded with concertina wire in the West - Wilberforce, Lumley, Aberdeen, Murraytown - and so every morning there is a procession of flagged embassy and NGO vehicles through Wilberforce going to the embassies above Freetown. We even waved to the US ambassador, but he ignored us. Alas.

After a quick taxi ride to the National Stadium, we went to the internet cafe while Moses walked back up the hill to Wilberforce to check on his family - he came down with us just to make sure we had a safe taxi ride, but we've negotiated the taxi system all around the city, so I'm not sure why he came with us. We found what was essentially a western gas station convenience store at which Sara bought a Coke Light with Lime and a bar of chocolate - we looked quite out of place walking back to center.

We ran the second session of the identity class, with Sara doing work about self and family while I worked with them on brainstorming and freewriting for their self-portrait. After we returned from a cassava leaf and rice lunch, a group from the EU was supposed to stop by the center, as they are touring through West Africa looking at youth initiatives. They never showed up, although Moses and Frederic waited outside all afternoon for them We ran another session with the afternoon kids, which was a bit too large for my liking. I'm still impressed by these kids - the session was almost an hour and a half long - and they remained interested, even though they only spend three hours a day in school. It was great actually accomplishing something for once.

Sara busy teaching

I helped Andrew with a few tech things around the center and then we headed into town for dinner. We met Amanda at the YMCA and ventured down Fort Street to this fantastic little restaurant she found - she's been eating there three times a day. A storm was blowing in - the air was full of dust from the streets and window shutters and doors slammed open and closed. People ran by, hurrying home. Thankfully, we made it to the restaurant in time to watch the storm, safe and dry inside. The groundnut stew was the best African food I've had yet.

We went back to the Y and chilled on the balcony for a few hours, which has quite the impressive view overlooking all of Freetown:

We met twenty-one-year-old Harry from Sierra Leone. Words can not adequately describe him. He was working for the UN radio station in 2005 when he denounced the Sierra Leoneans who signed up to go to Iraq as manual labor for US military sub-contractors. He says he couldn't understand why someone would want to go, so he decided to find out their motivations - by going himself. He signed up in Freetown and 24 hours later was wearing a flak jacket driving through Baghdad - he didn't tell anyone he was leaving. He worked there for 90 days for a US military sub-contractor, making $150 a month. Upon his return he worked at iEARN for about a year, where he met Amanda last summer. He knows just about everyone - from the presidents of Sierra Leone and Liberia to the recent West African music stars. If everything works out, he will be the local director of the Miracle Corners of the World community center that Amanda is building in Kissy.

We also encountered Wolfe, a German war photographer who has worked in just about every combat zone in the last twenty years in Africa and the Middle East. He's in SL doing a follow up story on the progress made since the war ended.

When the storm passed into the distance, Harry escorted us back to Wilberforce before going on to his house in Lumley. Exhausted, we went to bed after saying hello to Joshua, Ola and Moses back at our house.

A day off...

Wednesday, 13 June

After a quick bucket bath followed by hot tea, we left Wilberforce, stopped by the internet cafe, and bought a few loaves of bread, which came wrapped in a student's math notes about fractions. Andrew had given us permission to take a break from work to visit Dabo, one of the iEARN staffers who is currently attending Fouray Bay Collage. We took a taxi across town to Fourah Bay Collage, the main university in Sierra Leone. The collage is on a very steep hill overlooking central Freetown. Our taxi stalled out so many times on the way up that we started walking instead; thankfully, the driver fiddled with something under the hood and picked us up for the rest of the ride up the hill. (It costs 800 Le to go up the hill on a taxi, but only 700 Le to go down.)

Dabo is studying Political Science and History with the ultimate goal of working for the United Nations here in Sierra Leone. While 3000 attend the collage, the lack of job opportunities for graduates force most to compete for scholarships for more education abroad or they simply hang around an NGO in Freetown after graduation, with the eventual hope of obtaining the status that comes with riding in a white NGO vehicle. Others will try to establish their own NGO, but this is becoming more difficult as grant money from the donor community moves elsewhere in the world as Sierra Leone's war (thankfully) fades into the past and no longer makes the evening news.

After a quick lunch of rice and extra-spicy sauce - the pepper apparently warms you during the cold rainy season - we went on a tour of the campus. FBC is like any university - there are academic and administrative buildings, libraries, dining halls, dormitories, fraternities, campus organizations and chapels. Various student branches of the major political parties had posters up about their candidate and meetings to coordinate campaigns. We found an interesting sign, which we obeyed:

After leaving FBC, we took a puda-puda to the American Express office in Murraytown and enjoyed a fresh coconut before visiting an internet cafe and heading back up to Wilberforce. The trip from Murraytown to Wilberforce usually requires two taxis - from Murraytown to Congo Cross and Congo Cross to Wilberforce. Our first taxi driver was quite nice - he even summoned me back to the car to give some change. We then tried to find a taxi from Congo Cross to Wilberforce, but the first driver we asked demanded 15000 Le for the two minute ride to Wilberforce, so I told him he was crazy and found a wonderful driver who only charged 800 Le for each of us. Some people are incredibly helpful; others I simply can't stand. At the same time, you can't really blame them, as when you have no idea where - or when - your next meal will be, you have be desperate.

After a relaxing mid-week break from the center, we met Dara at Mamba Point Restaurant in Wilberforce for a very nice dinner. She is a Stanford graduate student researching the political motivations for sexual violence during civil war, both in Sierra Leone and elsewhere Her experiences were riveting as she has spent several months here and an extensive amount of time in the provinces. After leaving the almost exclusively expat crowd at Mamba Point, we returned to Aunt Jennie's house and worked on a lesson plan for Thursday. Moses, Joshua and the rest of the iEARN staff had planned for us to go to Paddy's, as every Wednesday is Ladies Night. That's about the only thing that stays on schedule in this country: every Wednesday, music performances at 10, dancing at 2 until dawn. Thankfully, Sara and I managed to convince Moses that we needed some extra sleep, so we stayed at home and went to bed.

More pictures from our visit to FBC can be found here:

Fouray Bay Collage

Perspectives

I came across a recent article in Impressions - the BMED British Airways inflight magazine - about Freetown. It provides an interesting contrast to my experiences and may also be found here on the BMED site.

- - - -

Free Enterprise
by Alan Duncan and Anita Ferruzzi
With sprouting modern architecture, high-quality restaurants and hotels and extensive investment opportunities, it is no surprise that Freetown is drawing ever more visitors to its streets


At an altitude of 600 metres, Leicester Peak peers out over the Sierra Leonean capital of Freetown and off into the Atlantic Ocean. It was here that the British chose to base their settlement in nearby Hill Station; the cool breeze at this altitude compared to the sweltering heat down in the bay had obvious appeal. Some of the old plantation-style houses are still standing in dilapidated elegance, reminiscent of an bygone era. Referred to locally as the “Harrods Houses”, these quaint structures were imported in pre-fabricated form straight from the world’s most famous department store and assembled on site.

Today this vantage point off ers more than just a stunning panorama. It’s the perfect place to gain an overall picture of the country’s economic progress over the last five years. Looking east towards the Queen Elisabeth II Port and the world’s third-largest natural harbour, there is bustling activity at the mouth of the Sierra Leone River and the freshly bulldozed path of a hillside pass aimed at reducing congestion in the city. Looking west at the fair sands of Lumley Beach, the rocks of Cape Sierra and the Atlantic Ocean, the boom in commercial and residential construction is apparent and fast creeping up towards the more affluent Hill Station and neighbouring Leicester, which now forms one new unbroken district.

In Leicester, the country’s leading architects and contractors are seemingly vying with each other to create designer homes and exclusive mansions. Taking centre stage is the new $60 million American Embassy, an imposing square-rectangular composite occupying an entire hillock. While opinions may diff er on the actual aesthetics of this landmark, the building stands as a symbol of renewed international faith in the long-term future of the country.

After more than half a decade of peace and stability, the Sierra Leonean economy, much like the country itself, has turned a corner. Freetown, once called “the Athens of West Africa” for the excellence of its academic institutes, is rediscovering its optimism. And with an annual growth rate of at least 7% forecast for the next three years, low inflation and a stable local currency (the Leone), it is little wonder that the number of people visiting the former British colony is steadily increasing.

Conscious of the need for sustainable long-term foreign investment, the government has devised investor-friendly codes. “We have created an investment code to reduce red tape and encourage investors into the country. There are huge incentives, including duty free imports and fiscal breaks”, says the Minister for Trade and Industry, Dr Kadie Sesay. “What we are trying to convey to people is that Sierra Leone is open for business.”

The message is clearly getting through with the mining sector leading the country’s economic revival. Diamond export revenues have surged from $20 million in 2001 to almost $150 million in 2005. This year has also seen a resumption of exports of bauxite and rutile (otherwise known as titanium oxide, of which Sierra Leone has the world’s largest deposits), while a joint venture between Cluff Gold and Harry Winston is within two years of mass-scale gold production in the southern town of Boamahun. Yet Sierra Leone’s vast natural wealth is not all underground: there is huge potential in the agriculture sector, with an estimated 700,000 hectares of arable land and crop yields, especially rice, at their highest level in a decade.

The Chinese, as in other parts of Africa, have been quick to move in and now have a strong presence in fisheries and tourism. While they have successfully consolidated their maritime interests by donating a naval vessel to patrol the country’s rich waters, this gesture is dwarfed in comparison to their ambitions in tourism where they have unveiled plans for a $270 million hotel and casino development on Freetown’s main urban beach, Lumley Beach – an astute move if you consider that just beyond the city’s boundaries lie endless stretches of pristine beach (widely considered to be among the finest in the world), forested mountains and secluded bays.

While there are concerns that Chinese plans could ultimately create a Las Vegas-upon-Freetown monstrosity, a distinctly ornate Chinatown complex, including shops and a restaurant, is already recognisable as you drive along the beach. Meanwhile, the Bintumani Hotel (a five-minute drive away) with its presidential suites, 180º sea-facing rooms and large angular pool, has been taken over by another Chinese group and is fast emerging as Freetown’s most popular mainstream hotel, complete with its own top-floor casino.

Indeed, the four-mile stretch from Lumley to Aberdeen with its cluster of hotels, bars and restaurant is the epicentre of late-night entertainment. The old Casino Leone and the country’s leading casino, the Lagoonda, are both tucked inside Man O’War Bay. With minimum bets of Le5,000 ($1.70), gambling is as much for amateurs as it is for professionals. Recently refurbished, this complex also boasts a chic basement nightclub and is part of the same consortium that owns the adjacent Cape Sierra Hotel and the Lungi Airport Hotel on the other side of the estuary (the only two establishments in Freetown that accept credit cards).

Freetown’s vibrant nightlife tends to spill from the sand-filled floors and crackling speakers of the bamboo beach bars to the more sophisticated sound systems and VIP lounges such as in Old Skool, owned by the Sierra Leone and Monaco football star Mohammed Kallon. And somewhere between the two, nestled near the bend of Aberdeen Bridge, is the inimitable Paddy’s – a lively, open-air bar and nightclub renowned for its evenings of live music, cheap beers and most of all for the collage it presents of Freetown’s great social mix.

As well as the larger hotels like the Bintumani, Cape Sierra or Kimbima, there are a growing number of smaller hotels in the area, like the Barmoi, which off ers a warm and homely feel. Up in Hill Station is the luxurious Country Lodge, the former mansion of a diamond magnate now transformed into a boutique-style hotel with a high-end restaurant (the Eden), off ering spectacular views and wines for the connoisseur.

One foreign chef making an impact in the local culinary scene is James Sanford at the Solar. The British chef describes his menu as “nouvelle African cuisine”, presented with all the attention to detail one would expect from a world-class food sculptor. The lobster-stuffed Barracuda Solar is a unique dish, given a real depth of culture by the restaurant’s ceremonial masks, carved floors, high-backed bamboo chairs and polished tables.

Another hideaway with considerable charm is Madame Posseh’s restaurant and guesthouse. The unlikely setting, down a winding dirt track in Lumley’s Babadori, belies the excellence and wide range of the African/European menu. Expect an intimate outdoor setting, cooled by fans, surrounded by memorabilia, potted plants presided over by an entertaining hostess.

Amid a concentration of Chinese restaurants, the pick of the oriental cooking is Indochine. From its garish décor and stylised outfits, to the sight of waiters delicately balancing sizzling hot plates, this is a full-on Cambodian experience in the heart of Africa. For a more authentic taste of Sierra Leone, Balmaya at Congo Cross with its adjoining art gallery (and jazz nights on the last Friday of each month) is a great lunchtime haunt. In the centre of town, head towards Crown Bakery on Wilberforce Street, probably the most popular lunch venue for well-to-do Sierra Leoneans and expats, and a mere couple of hundred yards from the derelict City Hotel, where Graham Greene wrote The Heart of the Matter.

Life in Freetown is indeed orders of magnitude better than it was half a decade ago, and walking through the streets on a quiet evening under a multicoloured sky, one often hears the faint murmur of a hymn sung behind church walls – an appropriate reminder of a land being rebuilt through the faith of its people.

Capital Radio

...This is why I'm hot, you ain't cause you not. This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot...

Ola sits on a wooden bench with a bowl of short stubby green okra, cutting each one lengthwise into fourths and then slicing the fourths. She wears a blue gown, along with a black knit cap to ward of the morning chill as she sits on the gradually brightening back porch. The sun peaks over the neighbor's house, illuminating the lines of laundry behind the house with long shadowy light. Musa sits by the water gently spraying from the pipe coming down from the concrete tank just visible between the trees and houses up the hill.

...Good morning from Capital Radio FM. It's twenty minutes past seven and 24 degrees....

As the first bucket nearly overflows, he picks it up and quickly pours it into the larger yellow water jug before returning it to its position beside the leaking 12 inch pipe.

...the Israeli army used heavy artillery yesterday as the ongoing conflict escalates....

Musa lifts the water containers and carries them back onto the porch and into the house. Aunt Jennie peaks her head out on the porch with a "How di bodi?"before going to the washroom for a morning bath. The house has interior plumbing, but it is no longer functional. All the water must be carried into the house.

...Preparations for the Day of the African Child this Saturday continue in earnest...

Moses carefully presses Aunt Jennie's army uniform with a still smoking iron fresh with coals. He flips it over, avoiding the stripes of the Lieutenant Colonel before creasing the sleeves. Jeff asks me if we iron in the US. I say we do but we have electric ones that plug into the wall, trying to explain the difference. He goes into the house and returns with an electric iron saying "lights no work so we don't use it anymore." He points to a rusted electrical box mounted above the door.

...Switch to the Bomba plan with international texts only 10 units each. Celtel Communications...

A shirtless Joshua walks onto the porch from his room, which is covered with posters of American hip-hop stars. He goes into the house and returns with a cup of steaming tea for me. He goes to selects a shirt for the day from the laundry line and waits for Moses to finish ironing the uniform. Joshua has to hurry, as he is working this week building a Celtel communications tower. He'll make 30,000 Le for a week of work. I help him pour some cassava and sugar into a plastic bag for lunch.

...the BBC reports that British football star David Beckham is rumored to be reconsidering his move in the United States. The LA Galaxy manager says he has received no such word from Beckham or his representatives...

Musa walks back out with a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of crin-crin rice leftover from yesterday. Moses brings a similar bowl out; he and Joshua devour the rice with large spoons.

... mosque in Iraq was attacked early this morning, destroying the remaining minarets. Casualties are not known...

Now dressed in her freshly ironed military uniform, Aunt Jennie says goodbye to Ola and Joshua, telling him to be careful while building the cell tower. She waves to me and then joins the parade of uniformed school children and military personnel walking on the road behind the house.

...the problem is all inside your head she said to me. the answer is easy if you take it logically. I'd like to help you with your struggle to be free. There must be fifty ways to leave your lover...

"Paul can't dance"

Tuesday, 12 June
Aunt Jennie insisted that we eat before going to work, so after a bread, sardine, and tea breakfast, we took a taxi - upholstered with a turtle shower curtain - with Moses to the center. My students showed up - on time! - and I sent the budding photographers out with the assignment of "People at work and play." We then went to lunch at Marianella and afterwards Sara had her first "I am" identity project session, which is shaping up to be quite interesting. I had my afternoon session at 4:15 (after an enjoyableFanta), which also started on time - I've posted a big schedule on the wall, and if you aren't on time, you don't get to take pictures, which seems to be encouraging some timeliness. Moses has decided that I have no dancing skills whatsoever after our trip to Paddy's, so he went around the center all day imitating how I apparently dance. It was quite amusing...

Hungry but tired of rice and fish, we went with Amanda to Family Kingdom in Aberdeen where they have an actual menu, a covered outdoor dining area, flushing toilets, and the latest celebrity gossip from the US on CNN. I ordered a cheeseburger as the entrees are all rather expensive at 30,000+ Le and was not disappointed. Here they put cucumbers on sandwiches. It's great. Anyways, we spent a relaxing few hours in Aberdeen ("the village that never sleeps" - Paddy's is just down the road), an area which could easily be mistaken for a tourist destination in Europe or the US. We eventually went back to town where we dropped off Amanda at the Y before going home to Wilberforce. Our taxi driver returning from Aberdeen was hilarious - he was listening to all the recent British hits.

I am Sierra Leonean

This blog is now officially a collaborative effort! Sara has her first post below:

So Paul asked me to write a little somethingsomething for the blog about my new project, and well I’ve never written in a blog, but tah dah! here’s my best shot…

Today I ran the first session of what I’ve dubbed ‘I Am’, the national identity project that I’ve just recently dreamed up and have since become pretty excited about. Ever since we got here, Paul and I have heard “African” as an adjective to describe nearly everything, from their food to their clothes to their hospitality. I was really struck by this, perhaps only because of the contrast to how it was in Ghana. In Ghana you couldn’t seem to walk a hundred meters down the street without seeing the flag somewhere, and there was much talk about delicious Ghanaian food, warm Ghanaian hospitality, and beautiful Ghanaian beaches. The pride in their country that was palpable, and created an amazingly warm environment for residents, visitors, and tourists alike – I loved it.

When you start talking to people in Freetown, conversation seems to inevitably lead into corruption, deficient infrastructure, and poverty; that’s great in the sense that there is a clear desire for things to improve and the people want to push their country forward, but I’m still struck by what I struggle to put in to words…a lack of warmth, perhaps, that people have for their home. I can only imagine it’s yet another symptom of post-conflict society; what kind of national identity can exist when the country has been in civil war for 10 years? Thus, the people seem to defer to their next closest sense of self – their African identity. Or so my psychology-geek self has mused…

Anyways, the project is set up to let the kids explore different aspects of their personal identity all within the framework of their national identity. My hope is that it will foster some sense of individuality and how each individual is essential to the greater whole, as well as pride in their country. At the end of it all, the kids will have each created up to eight sentences, all starting with “I am”. Each sentence will correspond to different days of the workshop, which will cover personality and hobbies, family roles, national characteristics and traditions, race, ethnicity, and the colors of the flag (this is going to require some abstract thinking and may end up being a total failure, but I’m going to give it a shot anyways). Finally, each kid will finish their sequence with ‘I am Sierra Leonean”.

So during the session today we looked at different definitions of identity and discussed what makes up an identity. We defined “characteristics” and talked about the difference between persisting and transient traits. Using the example of a five person society (a bread baker, a seamstress, a carpenter, a musician, and an artist) we talked about how many different identities create a whole, ie what would the effect would be on everyone else if just one person was taken away. At the end of it all I asked them to create their own definition for national identity, and Moses came up with one that I think really fits what I’m trying to do here….

“The collective concept in which we can identify ourselves and others quickly, and where everyone lives together to make a great whole, a difference.”

Overall I was really happy with how it went…the kids seemed to get it and were interested, which is really all that I was hoping for.

Paul and I are going to join up because what I want to do next is pretty close to his section on self portraits, so it seems this project is on it’s way to becoming multi-media. In the end I want to put together a website using pictures of the kids, pictures they have taken themselves, and their voices saying the I Am sentences they’ve created in whatever language they feel most closely connected too. It feels good to have a project under way, and hope against hopes I think it may turn out pretty well.

"Thank you"

We've been walking down to work from Wilberfoce; I've pulled out my camera without being mobbed by children or asked to put it away - maybe I can finally take a decent picture. No one is around besides that guy standing over there. He looks too tired to care.

I line up the camera for a panoramic sequence of Freetown. All the city is below me. If only this overhanging vegetation wasn't here I could get a decent series of pictures. I move a few steps off the path. That'd should be better.

I press the shutter release; look at the image on the screen.

Too dark. I switch to manual exposure mode. I'll need the constant exposure anyways for the panoramic; otherwise they won't blend together well in Photoshop.

Focus is set; I switch that to manual as well.

Better lengthen the shutter speed a bit. Can't change the aperture much since I'll need all the depth of field I can get to capture the shacks on the side of the hill in the foreground.

I should probably change lenses. There's too much distortion in this lens; that won't due for a panoramic. But Moses and Sara are waiting for me. I guess I'll just take it now and try to ignore the distortion.

I take another picture. Looks good. There's detail in the sky and the city is still light enough.

Hmmm. I still have the overhanging tree branches in the top half of the frame. That won't look good.

I shift a few steps to the left and recompose. Good. Should be able to crop the remaining branches out in Photoshop when I make the panoramic.

I do a final check on the horizon, don't want it too centered.

I pan all the way to the left and then take three slightly overlapping images, each to the right of the last one.

Better check the three quickly on the screen - I won't be able to retake those amazing clouds later.

Looks good.



I put the camera down and begin walk back to the trail where Moses and Sara are waiting for me.

I look down - the ground is too rocky not to - and see that I've just trampled through a garden. My path is littered with flattened corn plants. I look around - maybe the owner isn't around. No such luck. He's the tired old man standing by the corner, silently watching me destroy a month of labor. He motions with his hands for me to walk around. I stumble out of the garden with apologies pouring out of my mouth. He silently smiles. Then he shakes my hand and opens his mouth for the first time. I dread a well deserved verbal beating.


He says "thank you."

- - - - - - -

After receiving a plethora of "don't get discouraged" emails, I realized my portrayal of both Sierra Leone and my work this summer has been quite negative. While I've never been so emotionally challenged by my experiences, the last two weeks have been some of the happiest of my life. At first glance, you see destitute poverty on a nearly hopeless scale. A more perceptive look reveals something entirely different: individual people. People happy to simply be alive. People who insist on feeding me, an utter stranger who they will likely never see again, the cassava leaf and rice dinner intended for their family. People who ask about my family at home even though their own family all died during the war. People who find time to sit down and become my best friends, even though I'm just another American or Briton who will swoop in for a few months before walking up those stairs onto an airplane, never to return. People who share their bed with me, sleeping on the concrete floor instead. People who risk missing the only ferry to Freetown from the airport to help two strangers fill out missing luggage paperwork. People who smile and say thank you, even though I just trampled through their mountainside garden. People who interrupt their church service for everyone present to come greet the two visitors from America. People satisfied by nothing more than the chance to kick around a football. People singing and dancing in the streets.

The photography project itself looking quite promising, even if my own photographs have been limited by my status as an outsider. I've had to make some major adjustments, but every time the students see me they ask when they can go take some "snaps" of their city. iEARN Sierra Leone as an organization was a little different than I was expecting, but after realizing what it is doing for some of these kids, I'm more than willing to modify my expectations a bit. No other group in Sierra Leone is teaching skills as simple - and necessary in today's world - as sending an email. Those ten virus-ridden computers struggling to run Windows XP are the only ten computers that youth in this country can regularly use. Almost everyday new students walk into the office asking if they can "learn computer." The music project is also a beneficial initiative, as there are very few other opportunities for any sort of creative thinking and free expression as the school system, while actually quite excellent given the situation, is still centered around repetitive memorization.

On a quantifiable scale more suitable to our scientific world, development is coming to Sierra Leone. The streets are filled with the white SUVs of the various development groups - the government, UN and NGO's (non-governmental organizations). While the most effective methods of such development are up for debate, progress is happening everyday, slowly but surely. Reconstruction is continuing; in central Freetown the multistoried buildings are being rebuilt, gradually replacing the war-scarred concrete shells. People conduct their daily business without reference to the atrocities of less than a decade ago - the only significant visible reminders of the war are the amputee victims.

It's easy to lose sight of big picture and concentrate on the failures - I certainly do that everyday. But considering the state of this country in 1999 as fighting raged through the capital, the current situation is remarkable. There are no gangs of ex-combatants roaming the streets, no rebels contesting the government upcountry. People are turning to the democratic process, not to violent anarchy. Signs of the elections are everywhere. I've seen numerous political rallies gearing up for the elections in two months. The taxis are plastered with various Election 2007 stickers that are not promoting a political party, but rather encouraging voter participation. Religious leaders talk about, in their sermons, how crucial the elections will be.

I'd like to close with a few words from Harvard's 2007 commencement address by Bill Gates a few weeks ago. I'll post more of it later, but for now you will have to be satisfied with this excerpt:

"Sixty years ago, George Marshall came to this commencement and announced a plan to assist the nations of post-war Europe. He said: "I think one difficulty is that the problem is one of such enormous complexity that the very mass of facts presented to the public by press and radio make it exceedingly difficult for the man in the street to reach a clear appraisement of the situation. It is virtually impossible at this distance to grasp at all the real significance of the situation."

Thirty years after Marshall made his address, as my class graduated without me, technology was emerging that would make the world smaller, more open, more visible, less distant.

The emergence of low-cost personal computers gave rise to a powerful network that has transformed opportunities for learning and communicating.

The magical thing about this network is not just that it collapses distance and makes everyone your neighbor. It also dramatically increases the number of brilliant minds we can have working together on the same problem – and that scales up the rate of innovation to a staggering degree.

At the same time, for every person in the world who has access to this technology, five people don't. That means many creative minds are left out of this discussion -- smart people with practical intelligence and relevant experience who don't have the technology to hone their talents or contribute their ideas to the world.

We need as many people as possible to have access to this technology, because these advances are triggering a revolution in what human beings can do for one another. They are making it possible not just for national governments, but for universities, corporations, smaller organizations, and even individuals to see problems, see approaches, and measure the impact of their efforts to address the hunger, poverty, and desperation George Marshall spoke of 60 years ago."

Full text at Gates Speech