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:
-----
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.
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:
-----
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.
posted by Paul at
1:23 PM
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