Final final post from Sierra Leone

After the last post, I still had a couple days in Freetown, and they turned out to be rather exiting, so my final post, I promise.

On Saturday I went for a long walk behind the university, basicly doing a huge semi-circle around Freetown, which is ringed by a range of hills. The villages up here, Leicester and Gloucester, as the names betray, were some of the early Kreo settlements, built by the freed slaves. They are rather interesting places now, being up and away from the hustle of the city, and still maintaining some trees and jungle, they have a very sedate air about them. By the time of independence, the Kreo, who currently make up about 3% of the population, were never-the-less overwhelmingly in positions of power, and many of the houses here have the look and feel of retirement rewards for those initial leaders of Sierra Leone. The understated charm is not something that is being maintained by the new crop of the powerful however, and as I walked further towards Regent, the number of obnoxious palaces of wealth, with their concrete Roman columns and huge gates and walls, increased.

My walk took me to the new US embassy, which re-located to its current hill top position after the war, leaving its central base next to the cotton tree. It was just before reaching the embassy though, that I had one of the most terrifying moments of my life. As I was walking along, deep in thought, a mob of 20 or so young men, armed with machetes and rocks ran towards me, shouting and screaming. Like a deer in headlights, I stood frozen, unsure what to do. Thankfully (for me), they turned off th
e road and directed their anger at a collection of shanty huts and cars, which gave me enough time to follow advice of one of the locals, “Whiteboy, move!” After speaking about it to people afterwards, the general belief was that it was probably over land rights, rather than religious or ethnic violence, but it was a very clear reminder of how quickly things can flair up in a country with huge inequality, massive youth unemployment, and a large population of former child soldiers.

The rest of the afternoon saw me souvenir hunting, and I now have this to hang on my wall, or how about in the hallway mum?

 I also picked up a few newspapers with Ebola based headlines. I can't bring too much stuff, as I have to lug all this booty to Senegal, rather than home, but managed to find a couple goodies.

This evening I went for a wonder near my house, and discovered the Commonwealth War Cemetery, hidden away next to the police barracks. Very well maintained, and an oasis of calm in Freetown, the graves tell of the realities of the war here, with mainly naval and merchant naval deaths in the two wars. There were also a Norwegian, and even a few German graves, alongside the usual Commonwealth ones, which I don't remember seeing anywhere else.

Watching Cartoon Network, hiding from the rain. Not what I really had in mind for my last day in Sierra Leone, but hey, needs must. The storm today is probably the heaviest i have ever seen. The thunder made the house shake, and the water was almost a foot deep as it flowed down the road.

(View from my living room)

Final Sierra Leone blog post

“Between high buildings the dust of all the continents soared in short flights; and a penetrating smell of perfumes and dirt, of spices and hides, of things costly and of things filthy, pervaded the space, made for it an atmosphere precious and disgusting”

Nigger of the Narcissus turned out to be a mildly entertaining book, but not nearly as good as the preface, but was frankly beautiful! Have also read his other nautical novel Typhoon, which largely followed the same plot. Neither book came anywhere near as close as his magnum opus Heart of Darkness in terms of depth, emotion and message.

The postcards that I sent never seem to have arrived, so sorry about that, I promise I sent them, six weeks ago! A postcard sent to me here, about eight weeks ago has just arrived, so who knows maybe yours are on their way.

Summing up my time here, I can say I have a overall positive feeling about the work we did, and the people we helped. The slum communities are officially ignored by government institutions, and therefore it is up to NGOs to ensure that they are not ignored and forgotten. The role the YMCA and Ycare play here is relatively small, but combined with the work of the other partners, a positive attitude pervades, and work is being done.

The problems and challenges attached to work here, however, are huge. Corruption is endemic, fuelled in part by vast sums of NGO money that ends up paying for the services that the ministers and police 'can not afford to do', despite their huge salaries (and huge houses). The mining companies, and the Chinese are also not afraid to pay for what they want, no matter how many palms need greasing. Africa's 'aid-dependency' has been written about for decades, but it is clear to see here, not only in terms of NGO provided services, but in the attitudes of people towards white people, namely, that our only role here is to give people money. Begging infants being a daily heartache.

A seeming paradox exists regarding work. Just as in India, there is a great hustle and bustle in any public place, with people hawking just about everything under the sun, sweat pouring down their faces. Yet combined with this, is an incredible ability to do barely any work at all. This mainly seems confined to the office environment, where people will turn up late, leave early, and sleep in the middle, yet feel they have done a full day of work, and feel entitled to their salary for doing do. Granted, these are people who have the security of a job, rather than needing to work and sweat everyday just to eat, but it is not something one comes across in Japan for example, or indeed widely in environments I have worked in. This could be because there seems to be little accountability here, and no one ever seems to be fired, I don't know, but it adds to the frustrations of working here, especially in a charity funded environment. This frustration is further agitated by the terrible power and internet infrastructure, which renders whole days useless in the office, as nothing can be done. 

 (Looking down on Freetown from the University. The city-bypass road is still under construction)

Yet the country has rich resources, and a youthfully exuberance that can, and indeed already should be leading to great development. And it is that promise that does, and will continue to provide hope of a bright future to the country.

 

(Stormy Freetown)

Will I return to Sierra Leone? Sure, and I would love to be able to explore the areas I didn't get to see, namely the forests and mountains of the North and East, and the beaches of the south.

Week 10.5

“A work that aspires, however humbly, to the condition of art should carry its justification in every line...Art itself may be defined as a single-minded attempt to render the highest kind of justice to the visible universe, by bringing to light the truth, manifold and one, underlying its every aspect...My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel – it is, before all, to make you see...If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm -all you demand – and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask”

All of this comes from the introduction to Joseph Conrad's rather unfortunately titled 'Nigger of the Narcissus', yet another nautical book, but one that is starting off with rather more energy than Melville manages (I have paused Moby Dick at chapter 86), while I try to finish this paper book, as there has been a rather dramatic change of events.

Due to the slow but incessant spread of Ebola here, the decision has been made not to send the next batch of volunteers to both Liberia and Sierra Leone, instead adding them to the Senegal and Togo groups. Which means that I am off to Senegal as well. In a bid to lighten my load somewhat, I have a week to finishing the Conrad anthology. And learn fluent French. One of those objectives is rather more likely.

With this being my penultimate blog from Sierra Leone, I shall continue to write what I had been planning on before getting the news yesterday.

 

(From the Awako Times)

As this newspaper editorial from last week shows, there is vocal defense and support for cultural practices that are decried by many western (and other African) countries. The realities of the harm, usefulness, or value is largely not mentioned, but rather just a rambling defense of a country's right to protect its own culture, and to be left alone in peace to do what it wants. Here a legacy of colonial and post-colonial NGO based interference, I have noticed similar attitudes in Japan, where, post-war, a sense of loss of control over how the country was run lead to the clinging onto of cultural practices that may otherwise have naturally been forgotten or replaced, namely whale hunting. By fighting to keep them however, in the face of international pressure and condemnation, these acts of defiance become patriotic and something to support. Just look at the UK's dealings with Europe – no one likes to be told how to govern one's own country. So FGM in Africa, just as whale hunting in Japan, or anti-gay laws in the US and Africa, or a women's ability to drive in Saudi Arabia, are all things that people are fighting to keep, in the name of 'culture', seemingly because the UN/NGOs/America doesn't like them. And it is something I find frankly laughable.

 (Looking down on Freetown from the University)

In a country where being homosexual is illegal (but thankfully not carrying the kinds of sentences that Uganda recently passed), it was with great surprise to meet a very camp, and openly gay professor last week, while visiting the premier University here. Perched on a central hill overlooking Freetown, the largely 1960's concrete campus offers some fantastic views of the city (rather better than the views of the campus, which is in sore need of some refurbishment), and was certainly worth the hike to get to.

A few more things I will write up for next week's blog, but, then, a new country! (And a new blog, as this one is rather dammed by its name)

Week 10

"I myself am a savage, owning no allegiance but to the King of the Cannibals; and ready at any moment to rebel against him"

"Doubts of all things earthly, and intuitions of some things heavenly; this combination makes neither believer nor infidel, but makes a man who regards them both with equal eyes"

Chapter 86! Although my kindle tells me that is only 58% of the book complete.

Part of my work this week was to visit some of the biggest employers in Sierra Leone, in a follow-up to the task two weeks ago that saw me visit the vocational centres and Labour Minister, seeking ways to improve the employability of our graduate students. African Minerals is one of the biggest companies in Sierra Leone, involved as it is in the subterranean extraction industry, and was one of the companies we were directed to. They are looking for heavy vehicle drivers, and people who can maintain the mining equipment, for which they currently have to bring in foreign workers due to the lack of skilled locals. Of course, this also means there are no existing vocational centres that we can simply send people to study at, so the next step may well involve creating a vocational centre ourselves. Using an electronic thermometer 'gun' (similar to what we used at G!ro to check fridge and food temperatures) our temperature was tested as we entered the offices, the quickest and easiest way to check for Ebola, as high fever is one of the first symptoms (Of course, it is also the first symptom for just about every illness here as well). This is the first proactive anti-ebola measure I have yet seen, other than calls to increase hand washing – which on top of leading to the provinces running out of the stuff, would also help reduce the mirriad other health problems faced here as well – and it was telling that this was done at a highly international company. The local response is still rather mute, and positive action is sluggish to the whole affair, and it has taken the pronouncement by the President that yes, Ebola is in fact real, for any domestic action at all to be visible. But more on this later.

(Im not entirely convinced by the test for hairdressing course)

I walk the same route to and from work most days, and there is a young man who has rather attached himself to me, in the hope that I can help him out. He has applied to many companies and universities, in a rather desperate attempt to leave Sierra Leone. While he is motivated and energetic, I fear he lacks the academic skills, and certainly the English language proficiency to be successful via official channels – he is exactly the 'illegal immigrant' the media (and UKIP) so daemonise as the great threat to Britain I.e young, male and desperate. But, in the name of volunteerism I have tried to help. We went to the British Council yesterday to see what scholarship options are available, as well as work schemes in the commonwealth. Every step along the way requires money, good luck, and, frankly the type of networking and contacts that a poor boy from the slums simply doesn't have. £280 for the IELTS English Language test is the initial cost that anyone wishing to study abroad needs to take, and from my experience teaching preparation for this in Japan and Kazakhstan, it is a bloody hard test. Not only can Abu Bakar not afford it (given his situation, this money is close to six months salary, heck, it is over a months salary for even a middle class office worker), plus, I really don't think he could pass it. Added to this are the internet costs required for applying for schemes, as well as preparing for the test (5,000 leones an hour, (60p), or as much as dinner costs at the market), and then the challenges for a young, African male in gaining a visa that I mentioned in a previous blog. The odds are all greatly stacked against him, and it is yet another reminder of the luxuries we take for granted in the west. Given the UK's EU membership (which I fully support), if I had the language skills I could travel and work anywhere within the EU that I wished, and holding two degrees, with enough disposable income to pay for flights, I can pretty much work anywhere in the world. Africa has no comparable economic and political unions (Ecowas and the AU are more like presidential clubs), and this in turn means Africa provides many of the tragic boat death statistics.

(rainy season is most certainly here)

The other night was the strongest rain so far here, and it poured for hours. Safely tucked up in bed (or not, as it is far too hot for that), I couldn't help but be grateful that I wasn't living down in one of the slums, with only a sheet of iron for a roof, and dirt as the floor. Indeed, walking to work this morning, the many of roads were covered in thick mud - the legacy of the recent deforestation of the hills surrounding Freetown, from the rapid post-war expansion of the city's population. Another consequence seems to have been the total failure of the country's mobile phone network, with all phones little more than paper weights this morning. The internet has also decided to take the day off. It is infrastructure problems such as these which ensure Sierra Leone's development stays decidedly sluggish – Imagine a capital city anywhere else with no mobile phone or internet coverage for a day.

The Ebola situation is lumbering on, and as the accusations of corruption, cynical western interest and 'evil spirits' fly around, the death toll slowly climbs. As of yesterday, there were 99 suspected deaths, with 65 of those being confirmed. 3 months ago, the figure was 0 (http://www.who.int/entity/csr/don/2014_07_01_ebola/en/) . While the situation here is not nearly as bad as in Guinea, it is still telling of West Africa as a whole – the WHO and MSF blame poor local governance, poor education, porous borders and fear of western medical practices as the main causes of the spread, which has now become the worst case of Ebola since it was first documented in the 1970's. It is worrying how much time and money has been thrown at the problem, which has seen little positive news, other than the fact that the death rate is at around 70%, rather than the 90% it can sometimes reach. Corruption, fear and illiteracy are all negative and destructive traits, and their hold on rural West African life are strong, but their effects can normally be ignored amid the national statistics “Yes, only 40% of adults can read, but most of them are in Freetown, and farmers don't need to read, so its ok”. It is only when something as terrifying as Ebola hits the news that the nature of the rural abandonment is highlighted for an international audience. While an Ebola outbreak in a village in China, or France or Brazil would also kill many, I can say with (blind?) confidence that it would be brought under control quickly, with a respect for doctors and the law that would ensure effective management. There was a case here last week of a junior doctor who contracted Ebola while helping sick patients. Instead of doing what he knew he must – quarantine himself, treat the symptoms, and hope – he absconded and is currently being sought by the police, all the while risking the lives of anyone he comes in contact with. It it hardly surprising then, when even the local medical staff refuse to follow the rules, that the spread has been so relentless.

All this being said, there are still only 99 deaths officially attributed to Ebola or Ebola like symptoms, in a population of 6 million, and there is no need for mass panic (which would probably cause more deaths than the virus, if rioting and looting incidents worldwide are anything to go by), but with confirmed cases being in Bo, which is only four hours away from the airport, it is not inconceivable that a newly infected individual could leave the country before symptoms presented (two days normally) and for the first time take the disease outside of Africa.

 (Old Kreo style house....and people with stuff on their heads)

This is the final week for the current group of volunteers, and work has certainly been winding down. We finally managed to borrow the projector, and play 'Blood Diamond'. It seemed fitting to watch the most famous film about Sierra Leone, while here. It was interesting to now be able to tell which tribal languages are being spoken, and try to guess where in the city scenes were filmed (or at least meant to be, as none of the film was seemingly shot in Sierra Leone, for a start, the cars in Freetown are driving on the wrong (left) side of the road). An older member of YMCA staff was asked if he had seen the film before, “No, I lived through it” was all he needed to say to really bring home the realities of the conflict, as well as the rather morbid nature of making Hollywood blockbusters out of other people's recent nightmares. Of course, the factors that led to the war (well, in this case, the main driving force that funded the continuation of the war- diamonds) need to be shown to a wider audience. 

 (Football fans)

Last night there was a large, and loud religious service in the shanty chapel near the house- until 3am. It featured all the classics from the 'clichéd American evangelical revival' handbook- talking in tongues, casting out devils, a live rock band and a heck of a lot of clapping, singing and wailing. Aside from the dubious link any of that has to the tenants of Christianity, it made it impossible to sleep.

Week 9

“There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own”

I was decidedly under the weather on Saturday, and spent the day in bed, allowing myself as a treat to pause Moby Dick and read Terry Pratchett's Interesting Times. Not only are his books short enough to read in a day, they are exiting and funny enough to ensure you want to read the whole thing in one go. As always, serious social commentary is satirised in his comic fantasy Diskworld, with the usual cast of misfits, heroes, wizards and evil villains providing the rich characters. This story looked at isolationism, closed mindedness, old age and the repetition of history, via a useless wizard, a band of barbarians nearing retirement, and an amalgamation of classic Chinese and Japanese stereotypes (endless shogun/warlord's fighting, subjugated peasants, fear of foreigners etc) and while not as constantly funny as some of his other books, it certainly helped to cheer me up,

“What d'you think this is, homeopathic warfare? The smaller your side the more likely you are to win?”

“Well, anyway, gentlemen...you might not yet be civilised but at least you're nice and clean, and many people think this is identical”

The battle to finish Moby Dick however, continues.

(Freetown's former train station, now a cafe attached to the bus station)

For anyone who read my India blog, you would have seen how my current views on begging were formed over the six month journey. In short, I would say they have two main points.

1: I can't feed/save every single beggar in a country, which, once realised, reduces the feeling of guilt when saying no (I never simply ignore them). This in turn forces me to choose those I feel are most deserving of my charity, leading to point 2: Begging needs to be the only option remaining, to receive anything from me. By this I mean, and again, it comes from the harsh realities of what I saw on the streets of India, and have had re-enforced here, that some people have taken to begging as a means of earning money, to which I feel their affliction does not require begging. Not having a leg, for example, does not exclude a person from many of the world's jobs, even in the developing world - ladies working in the markets here spend all day sitting down, as do tailors for example. Simply being old is another factor I don't feel instantly makes someone deserving of charity. But blindness, or not having hands (rather common here, due to the rebel RUF habit of amputation during the civil war) to name a few, are limiting factors that do hinder a person's ability to earn money. The blind here are often led around by children or grandchildren, and it is heart wrenching to know that their own lives and futures are being hobbled in the name of feeding a family member.

Readers of the same blog will also remember that, where ever possible, I sought to buy gifts and items that had been produced by co-ops, or charities, where the people were directly benefiting from the work being done – so dad's mango chutney from Calcutta, or mum's woven place-mat set from Darjeeling or my own shirt from Dharamsala were all made by people who, without such outlets, would likely be begging. With this in mind, I sought a rather enterprising man named Ibrahim here, who despite loosing both hands during the war, has made a business for himself selling bags made from Africana fabric. The bags reward enterprise in the face of actual physical adversity, (and with profit margins rather greater than begging) and mum, you are now the proud owner of a small shoulder bag.

One thing I have not seen here yet is a concerted effort by NGO's to engage in the 'production of goods to both raise money and awareness, and provide work' model that works so well in India. One reason for this may well be the lack of tourists of course, but there are enough middle-class and diaspora Sierra Leonians to support something. Given the huge number of NGO's here, including those such as the YMCA that are engaged in training people to become tailors, there seems to me to be an opening for one of them to start marketing and producing goods. I was approached yesterday by one of the staff at the Don Bosco children's shelter, who is seeking funding to start his own youth oriented NGO, which would offer skills training and community work to vulnerable youth. While the idea is noble, and the work sorely needed, I can't help but think that what is not required is yet another NGO, but rather an effort to consolidate and centralise the work that is currently being done. Overlap in some areas, blindness to others, and people requiring salaries at every stage (not to mention the yearly $1000 NGO registration fee) all ensure that the task to which all are engaged in – doing the work that the government is unable/unwilling to do - is made slower and more expensive. Of course, each NGO has different religious or ideological foundations, and both public and private funding, but I can't help but think that a bit of centralised management and structuring, would greatly improve the impact on Sierra Leone, as well as offer value for money for donors. 

 (The dorms for the national nursing school. With all the mobile phone usage, no need for public phone booths anymore)

I met the newest group of Peace Corps volunteers, all 57 of them, who arrived last week to begin their two year education volunteering service. Mainly science and maths teachers, their task here will be a challenging one given the deep and conservative hold of both Christianity and Islam. None of the enlightened 'God + science' that pervades in much of Europe, but rather the 'God vs Science' of America or the Spanish Inquisition, the bible/Qu'aran is believed to be the literal word of God, and such topics as evolution, homosexuality, ebola even, are widely distrusted as liberal western ideas. So good luck to them, and I hope their time is rewarding and not too frustrating.

Between the two groups of volunteers, I have a one week holiday, and am currently looking for ways to spend it. As I only have a single-entry Visa, I am unable to leave the country, which rather limits my options, as I had been thinking of going to The Gambia, and thus doubling the number of African countries I have visited (not including Tenireffe).The harsh realities of the rainy-season rule out things I would love to do, such as hike Mt. Bitumani or visit some of the more remote nature sancturies, leaving really just spending time by the beach and hoping for breaks from the rain.

Speaking of beaches, I was out with a few of the volunteers at Q bar on Lumely beach, my first time there in the evening. It was transformed from a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the waves, to a heaving nightclub. The high number of ladies was noted as a definite bonus, as most evening spots are decidedly masculine, until it was pointed out that most of them were prostitutes, with many coming from neighbouring Liberia. With the benefit of hindsight, it was obvious to tell the difference, namely by the body shapes, and male clientele. With many Sierra Leonian ladies being only average height, and possessing huge derriers, the tall, thin, and leggy ladies here were clearly different, and sinisterly hinted at the correlation between them and the high number of foreign men.

This week was rather typical really, spending rather a lot of time in the office writing reports and producing training materials for the training of the next cohort and drinking fresh coconut water straight from the nut (not bad for 30p), but it was while I was down-town on a coconut finding mission that, for the first time in my life, someone tried to pick-pocket me. I had just left a fabric shop, where one of the clerks had warned me of the number of 'tiefmen' in the area. Bending down in front of me, and pointing at my shoe as I was crossing the street, the next thing I knew a hand was in my pocket, reaching for my wallet. This arm I was able to grasp, before the man wrenched free and ran off into the crowd. I only managed to shout 'oi!', but it was enough to draw laughter from a number of locals who saw the whole thing. Not laughter at me, but rather at the unsuccessful thief. The loss of what little money I was carrying would not have been a blow, but still, it did bring home the fact that, despite the number of places around the world I have been, this was the first time I have noticed at least, someone trying to rob me. 

I had a long conversation with a Muslim taxi driver last night, which helped to make the ride more interesting. Ramadan has just started here, and for 70% of the country, it is something most will at least try to follow. He asked me the strangest question, and one that I struggled to answer, "If you had the money, would you build a church?" It took me a while to reply that, if I had the money, I would build a community center for all people to use and gather in, an answer that equally surprised him.  

Week 8

“A boggy, soggy, squitchy picture truly”

I seem to be getting later and later writing these, so I do apologize. Still slogging my way through Moby Dick, and while some of the verbose and illustrative images Melville uses are fantastic, I can't help thinking that an abridged and edited version would save on both paper and time. But, in the words of Melville himself, “no more of this blubbering now, we are going a-whaling”

First up on my list of randomly collated thoughts for the week, is my extravagant use of mineral water for every day tasks. Given the dubious safety of the well water at home, I find myself using mineral water for shaving, brushing teeth and even washing fruit. Make me feel like a Hollywood celeb, it really re-enforces the things we take for granted at home, namely clean tap-water.

Tied in somewhat with the discussion on cleanliness, is the ebola threat currently in Sierra Leone. The official WHO stats list 58 dead (as of 3 days ago), http://www.who.int/csr/don/2014_06_22_ebola/en/ but the real number is probably much higher. A more worrying trend than the general lack of hygiene that is endemic in much of the developing world, is the skepticism to healthcare and NGO help. There are a large number of people here who either don't believe ebola exists (the deaths are either made up, or due to 'bad spirits') or that it is just a conspiracy for the west to make money. This means that people are not taking effected family members to hospitals to seek proper treatment, or are ignoring the advice regarding handling the dead I.e Don't, as that is when ebola is at its most contagious. Much of this is due to the high illiteracy rates in rural parts of the country, a rather blind faith in religious salvation, and a justified lack of confidence in the support and intentions of local and national government with proof that large amounts of money sent to help limit the ebola spread has 'gone missing'. http://news.sl/drwebsite/publish/article_200525613.shtml

I recently received a 50 Leone coin as change, and was rather surprised, as I hadn't seen any coins so small. I can't even imagine what you could by for that, given that a taxi ride is 1000 Leones, and even a bottle of local Coke is 2500. For reference, 50 Leones is 0.0068p, meaning the metal is worth more in the UK than the value on the coin!

I spent last Friday-Sunday up in Bo, the 2^nd city of Sierra Leone, looking at potential homestay families and partner organisations for the next batch of volunteers. This time, the 10 expected volunteers will be split between Freetown and Bo, with 5 in each, and I will base myself in Bo, as I fancied a change of scenery and a more rural setting. It will be an interesting challenge, being so far away from the capital (4 hours or so by Jeep, in the dry), but the freedom may well be good, as I will have a greater hand in running the programmes. 

 

(Just another taxi, full of charcoal, on the Freetown-Bo road)

Rather more seriously, I got hold of a copy of the new FGM report for Sierra Leone, and it makes for shocking reading. While the practice is not limited to here exclusively, it does cover a large swathe of Western, Central and Eastern Africa, and due to the large diaspora living in Britain, it is now a British problem as well. Despite laws being passed in 2003 clarifying the position against it, the first prosecutions only took place in March this year. I have included a link to the file here, in case you are interested, and it does help to highlight just some of the wildly different cultural realities of life out here.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bww0fR610RYnTkJ3MFZKNGdmcVE/edit?usp=sharing

Despite the realities mentioned in the report, there are laws against it in SL, but it is not expressly banned, and indeed is unlikely to be so soon. Statute 33 of the 2007 Child's Rights act states:

33.No person shall subject a child to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment including any cultural practice which dehumanises or is injurious to the physical and mental welfare of a child

 

(Village kids)

YMCA members and staff are always jetting off to a conference or event, yet the realities of gaining visas are rather harsh here. Due to the actions of their peers, who may stay behind in whichever western country they have visited, or try to claim asylum, it is incredibly difficult for young African males to gain visas. It has taken the personal phone call to the German ambassador by the YMCA director here to allow a group to travel to Germany for a fundraising and educational tour in support of the Traveling Doctor programme (where a YMCA funded doctor travels to remote villages, providing free healthcare).

I am not sure if I have mentioned this before or not, so sorry for any repetition, but the number of albinos here amazes me on a daily basis. It is not only that albino Africans stand out more against their peers than a European albino might, but the likelihood of albinism is greater as well, with 1 in every 1500 people being albino in parts of Africa, compared to 1 in every 17,000 in the UK. They face stigma and hardship here, but thankfully not the killings and maiming as in some more southern African nations, where albino body parts are used in traditional medicine. http://www.sierraexpressmedia.com/archives/65568

With the daily 'white boy' calls from friendly children that I receive here, it was a surprise the other week, to get one from an albino boy. I have often wondered if, regardless of the colour, albinos here identify as 'black' or 'white', and, with a survey sample size of one, I will assume the answer to be 'black'.

Week 7

“I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts”

Still wading through Moby Dick, this week I shall blame the world cup for distracting me.

There are only a few songs that are played on near constant rotation, and rather than providing a soothing background, they are just grating. Excessive auto-tuning of vocals, mindless repetition of words and lack of creativity, they could be pop songs anywhere. While many of the neighbouring, francophone countries have a strong tradition of local music making, Sierra Leone seems devoid.

Here are two examples, make up your own minds!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0JFiFSV1aE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttdU19Kwce8

This week, in a clear demotion from last week, I suffered the ignominy of only meeting with the Permanent Secretary for the Ministry of Labour. I didn't even get a photo. The meeting came during a day spent visiting various stakeholders of the Slum Dweller Vocational Training Programme. While attendance has been great, subsequent gainful employment has been less so, and I accompanied the Monitoring and Evaluation Officer Tom, one of the UK volunteers and a local consultant for the day. It was interesting to see a differing side to the work done by the department, as the main focus for the volunteers is the hands on and slum based execution phase, rather than the planning and evaluation stage. Overall the stakeholders offered a very positive image of the quality of students we are sending them, and they presented a number of suggestions for improving employment, namely creating a database of all graduates which we could supply to the countries major employers and agencies, as well as improving the monitoring of students and staff to ensure the focus is correct. The Permanent Secretary however, was rather less helpful, suggesting that our training was in the wrong, and suggesting that we should train people in industrial agriculture, mining and engineering, while at the same time stating we should be preparing people for self-employment. It was interesting to see the clear direction that current government policy is moving – I don't know any other country that is pinning its economic hopes on agriculture? And the focus on self-employment seems to me to be a clear admission that current job creation schemes are failing. 

 (Visiting a 'food and nutrition' class)

One of the vocational skills being taught is tailoring, and there are tailors on every street corner, rather like India. The quality however, is rather lower here, although I'm not complaining about my colourful shirt, but the shirts I had made in India are far better, and were even cheaper. The biggest threat to the industry here though, is not the quality, or cheap Chinese imports, but rather the 2^nd hand clothing flooding the country from the West. Items that charity shops - or given the number of American university T-shirts, American Thrift-Stores - that could not be sold, but were in fine condition, are sold in bulk to African countries. This has the effect of crushing any local clothing industries. I am guilty though, as this week I needed a new dress-shirt, and was able to buy a used, but fine condition Zara men affair for £3.50. Not only is the 'made in Sri Lanka' shirt of far higher quality than the one I had made last week, it is also half the price. With such competition, I fear for the longevity of the local industries. This then, may be one of the reasons for the requirement to wear African clothing on Fridays, nationalism aside, as it guarantees that at least one item of clothing has had to be made locally, and such imperial decrees may be the only way to ensure employment for the domestic industry.

Week 6

"Some years ago, having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail around a little and see the watery part of the world"

  I am finding it hard to get through Moby Dick, as Melville's prose, while being beautiful in parts, is certainly slow and can be be rather a chore at times to wade through. 
 

On Wednesday I met my first head of state, the honourable Bai Koroma, President of Sierra Leone. I was with a delegation of senior YMCA officials, showing off plans for a new YMCA building in the north, and we were seeking official approval, as well as general commitment for the work of the YMCA in the country.

 (Spot the President)

His room is full of framed pictures and awards from around the world, with a photo of him with Barack Obama taking pride of place, sitting alongside a massive sword, directly behind his chair. A number of footballs and religious paintings on the back wall, and the rest of the room is taken up with a huge desk (big enough to hold two computer screens, one of which is a CCTV feed for the building), and sofas and chairs for visitors such as ourselves.

The State house is a relic of colonialism, and there is a rather tired feel to the place. Red tiled floors and off-white walls reminded me more of a Kazakh school building, although, granted, having only visited The Houses of Parliament in London, my experience of State houses is rather limited . The air conditioning is Arctic in there, so the national budget could easily be improved with turning that up...no CoolBiz here (Japanese reference).

Inside, the whole experience was one of calm and practiced patience, with officious and well dressed security in every corridor. Outside, back in the real temperatures of Freetown, the usual semi-chaos returned, with workmen from a current building extension, police, soldiers, and an army of drivers washing the cars of the various officials and ministers. In probably the only instance I have seen here, mobile phones were not permitted inside the building, which led to an electronic silence not found anywhere else, need for people to talk with their neighbours to pass the time, a novelty these days!

The only other event of note this week was our trip to Banana island. With the raining season fast approaching – actually, it is late, but the result is the same – it was probably our last beach based weekend.

 (This is actually of Kent beach, on the mainland - Freetown is faaaar left of the land)

A forty minute boat ride from the most southern point of the Freetown peninsular, the island is one of the least touched areas still to be found near the capital, with old growth jungle reaching down to the water's edge. This is not to say the whole island is pristine, with two small villages housing eight hundred or so local inhabitants, and three guest-houses catering to tourists. The combined total of these efforts though, and the small scale cassava farming and poyo collection is barely felt with just fifteen minutes of walking into the jungle. Bird song and insect noises fill the air, although bigger life seems to have suffered the fate shared on the mainland, as I didn't see so much as a footprint of a monkey or deer.

(Typical local hut on the island)

The island used to be an important staging point for the slave industry, and housed a number of Europeans. Their legacy is largely felt in the name of the main village- Dublin- and in a few iron lampposts that still dot the area. Compared with the scrap iron shanty hunts that most of the villagers now live in, they offer a rather striking contrast between old and new. With no electricity other than sporadic generator use, requiring petrol from the mainland, the current village is probably less well lit that it was a hundred and fifty years ago, with public street lights burning whale oil. The jungle has reclaimed what else was left of these slaving settlements, and the overall effect like that noted in the Blood River book I recently read about the Congo, where the standard of life now, is lower than in the past. Issues of development or de-development aside, the island is lovely and peaceful, with golden beaches and great sea food. We went snorkelling the first morning, and generally lazed around reading for the rest of the time. 

 (A street busy enough to warrant lighting, now a dirt track through the jungle)

A highlight was certainly a night swim, and the amazing phosphorescence show it presented, with the light from the moon providing enough rays to light up the water. Even at night, the water here maintains a pretty constant temperature, which is warm enough to allow unlimited swimming, but cool enough to be refreshing. The fish seem to enjoy the temperature as well, as the waters were teeming, and provided plenty for us to eat. However, it was pointed out that the illegal foreign fishing boats (whose similar actions led to the conversion of Somali fishermen into pirates on the other side of Africa), are still trawling the waters here, destroying not only local fish stocks, but also the sea bed. The lack of a navy/coast guard ensures that the the numerous maritime laws are unenforceable. This article does a pretty good job of explaining it, in a Sierra Leonian context. http://standardtimespress.org/?p=2294

 (Jungle!)

On our way back, our sunburnt (why is it always my ankles?) but contented peace was shattered by a car crash ahead. A truck pulled in front of the jeep in front of us, totalling both of them, and causing the jeep to flip. Thankfully no one was seriously injured, but they could so easily have been. If we were ten seconds further ahead, well, it could have been us. Rushing out with first-aid kits and little idea how to use them, our services were luckily not required.

Week 5

“The magic of this place never failed him: here he kept his foothold on the very edge of a strange continent”

I have finally read Graham Greene's Heart of the Matter, the novel he wrote after visiting Sierra Leone, and which is set in Freetown. I have thoroughly enjoyed it (although it slows down at bit near the end) and have included a number of quotes I found relevant and pertinent. It it always interesting, when reading an historical account of a place (even if it is a fiction) to see the similarities that are still evident.

“What do the Syrians do?”

“Make money. They run the stores up country and most of the stores here. Run diamonds too.”

'The Syrians', is a descriptive mistake that existed during British rule, and indeed continues today, as the people in question are actually Lebanese. With around 6,000 Lebanese here, they make up the largest non-African ethnic group, and have been here for over a hundred years. They are still very much involved in the business and diamond industries, as Greene highlighted in 1948.

“In front of the old cotton tree, where the earliest settlers had garnered their first day on the unfriendly shore, stood the law courts and police station, a great stone building like the grandiloquent boast of weak men”

All three of these are still here – the tree is now the center of a large round-about, where the two major roads in the west of the city (including Saika Stevens road) converge into the classic 'heart' of the city. The law courts, looking very much out of place in the concrete drabness that now inhabits Freetown, sits next to the round-about, with its golden highlights standing out against the whitewashed walls. The police station is somewhat apart from this however, about a five minute walk closer to the sea.

“They had an infinite capacity for patience when patience was required – just as their impatience knew no bounds of propriety when they had anything to gain by it. They would sit quietly all day in a white man's backyard in order to beg for something he hasn't the power to grant, or they would shriek and fight and abuse to get serve in a store before their neighbour”

While the use of the impersonal pronoun to imply collective and universal ownership of a trait can lead to calls of cultural insensitivity, or even racism, it does help to highlight stereotypes. So while 'they' don't all act like this, even today it has been my experience that enough do to make this an accurate, if unflattering observation.

“He never listened when his wife talked. He worked steadily to the even current of sound, but if a note of distress were struck he was aware of it at once. Like a wireless operator with a novel open in front of him, he could disregard every signal except the ship's symbol and the SOS. He could even work better while she talked that when she was silent for so long as his ear-drum registered those tranquil sounds”

I don't think this one needs any explanation!

“The day was heavy with un-shed rain: already at 8.30 in the morning the body ran with sweat.”

And this one is certainly still true, even with the fans in the office, the sweating is amazing as soon as one leaves their reach. While the humidity is not (yet) as bad as Japan's, it is certainly close.

I have also finished a rather more scientific book this week, Richard Dawkins' The Greatest Show on Earth. This presents all of the evidence, and there is a lot of it, for proving how evolution has produced everything we can see today. It is a fascinating, and at times rather heavy (for a non-scientist) look at such evidence as tree-rings (proving the earth is at least 11,000 years old, enough to show the biblical based dates are wrong), up to the nature of the radioactivity of elements and dating rocks using their half-lives:

“If history-deniers who doubt the fact of evolution are ignorant of biology, those who think the world began less than ten thousand years ago are worse than ignorant, they are deluded to the point of perversity. They are denying not only the facts of biology but those of physics, geology, cosmology, archaeology, history and chemistry as well.”

Serious stuff, and I thought I would include a small quote from one of my favorite humorous fiction writers, who in his goal of lampooning just about everything, also covered this topic:

“The current state of knowledge can be summarised as thus: In the beginning, there was nothing, which exploded” Terry Pratchett Lords and Ladies.

Enough of literature, back to Sierra Leone. Last week was actually rather quiet, being office based the whole time, so there are less exiting stories (and photos) I am afraid. I did crack on Monday and buy a £1.90 tub of peanut butter. There is just something about the sweet nutty wonderfulness of the stuff that I can't refuse. It was probably my biggest weakness in Japan (where it was available in huge tubs at Costco), and at tourist shops in India, but denied me in rural Kazakhstan. So a small spoonful for desert, if there wasn't any fruit, feeds my sugar craving for a while.

There is a presidential request (order) in place here, for people to wear traditional clothes on Fridays. So colourful Africana tops and dresses make an abundant appearance ever Friday, and the volunteers have all joined in. While most bought pre-made clothing at the market, I opted for something more bespoke, and had one tailored. At £4 for the material (2 metres), and £3.50 for the labour, it was certainly more expensive than the shirts I had made in India (£9 for two), but is a bit more personal that just something from a shop, and helps spread the wealth.

Mum, any colours/patterns you are after?

I sent four postcards on Friday, so for those of you lucky enough to (hopefully) receive one, please let me know, so I can see how long it takes! The combined postage for cards was the same as the labour costs for the shirt, which I can't help thinking its rather crazy. The central post office is a huge empty Soviet-esque hulk of a building, which, given the fact no one seem to send or receive mail, makes it rather redundant. The the acute housing shortage in Freetown, Ii would be nice to see it turned into a more useful space soon.

There have been a group of American students staying at the YMCA this week, all from Acadia University on a Peace and Conflict programme. This has meant some interesting conversations, and more nights-out in Freetown that we normally manage, with all the associated logistical headaches for myself.

As many people have highlighted, there is indeed an Ebola outbreak in Sierra Leone, with about eight deaths and fifty suspected cases. It goes without saying then that it has been massively, massively over-hyped in the UK press. With malaria deaths being over a hundred in the country, there are clearly larger and more consistent health problems here. Of course, any outbreak of a fatal and incurable virus is serious, and I have spent the week tightening hand-washing and health reporting procedures But still, the local response has been rather less alarmist, with people getting on with life, albeit with rather more Ebola awareness posters around. In the area of the outbreak, local tribal attitudes have, however, been anything other than helpful, with four of the initially infected people being removed from hospital by their families, who then threw rocks at medical staff. Apparently they wished to use traditional medicine to cure them, but their ignorant actions may well have signalled the death of many more people, as Ebola is mostly spread from recently deceased people to family members or medical staff.

 (Looking down onto Western Freetown)

(An unexpected sight)

On Saturday, I went to watch Sierra Leone play Swaziland as part of the qualifying for the African Cup. Both teams are truly terrible, but the audience was fully aware of this, and instead of vitriolic shouts from the crowd every time a player missed the ball, or fell over, or did both at the same time, there was general merriment. The whole experience was fun actually, with a 3/4full stadium providing plenty of noise and atmosphere. When the ambulance carrying a (slightly) injured player couldn't leave the pitch as it had been locked in, the jeering and head shaking from my neighbours suggested such an event was nothing to get angry about, but was rather an accurate example of every-day life here.

On Sunday, the sounds of street football outside the house replace the normal church bells at midday and signing from mid-morning, and the muted sounds offer a brief respite, before the dance songs start playing again in the evening.

Week 4.5 (ive written rather a lot, sorry)

"...it brought home to me how money alone will not solve Africa's problems. Until the Congo's economy is underpinned by the rule of law and transparency, it will remain stagnant, chaotic and unproductive"

Tim Butcher again, this time in Blood River, a repeat of Stanley's crossing of the Congo in the 1870's. Another fascinating look at modern Africa, as compared to an earlier colonial (in this case, pre-colonial) experience. While the Sierra Leone of Greene had changed, largely for the better, the Congo that Butcher faced is arguably in far worse condition that it was at independence in 1960, with fifty years of dictatorships and war leaving almost nothing standing. In contrast, the bloody civil wars of west Africa seem short and relatively tame, which only shows how brutal the Congo has been. 

On Wednesday and Thursday last week, I took my first trip 'up-line'. The term dates from when there used to be a narrow gauge train line from Freetown that spanned much of the country, meaning therefore, that most of the towns and settlements were up the line from Freetown. The railway was a victim of President Saika Stevens (our villain introduced last week), and was sold as scrap due to an unwillingness to fund maintenance, yet when asked years later, this action was apparently his only regret as president. The term has, at least, survived longer than the line, and is now used to describe the countryside, or indeed, any part of Sierra Leone that isn't Freetown. 

Driving out from Freetown, I got my first glimpse of the 'real Africa', or rather, the stereotype that many people expect to see. Roadside villages offered up the grass thatched mud huts, bare breasted ladies, smiling naked children and endless green. The three hour drive to Bo, Sierra Leone's second city, provided plenty of such villages, in rather the same way as Kazakhstan did, with miles of emptiness suddenly broken by a small village, here instead of apples, selling mangos or charcoal, and in two cases bush-meat - mainly shot wild monkeys - before again facing the jungle. Although this isn't the wild and untamed jungle that one might imagine, but rather a managed 'working forest'. It seemed as I sped past in rather colonial style (the NGO number plates on the YMCA Jeep ensuring we don't have to stop at roadblocks and police checkpoints), that there was a rotation system of scrub removal, with the branches collected for charcoal production, leaving only the palm trees and termite mounds standing. While this can't be great for the wild animal populations, it does as least seem to offer a sustainable solution to the country's cooking needs.

 (My ride- YMCA Sl's 2nd car)

The drive passes the Occra hills, famous for the home of the West Side Boys gang who tormented travellers during the civil war. Their most famous act was the kidnap of British troops, which led to their destruction in an SAS/Para rescue, and was the focus of one of the books I have already finished, Operation Barras by William Fowler.

Leaving Freetown on the new Chinese road, one spends much of the drive on the recently built Italian road, and the final part of the drive near Kenema, over in the east, is on a still under construction Korean one. Every village we passed contained the signs – in rather self-congratulatory style - of all the aid work provided by the world's charities- a school built by Concern, a food processing facility by Restless Development, a clinic by Medicine Sans Frontier etc. etc. It reminded me rather of Nagorno-Karabkh (the disputed area claimed by Armenia from Azerbaijan, which I visited last summer), where everything had been paid for by the Armenia diaspora in Europe and the US, and they seemed very keen on letting people know this. I am not sure that reminding people constantly that everything built in their country is paid for (and supervised) by foreigners is beneficial to a positive outlook. Although of course, if taxes here were actually paid, politicians didn't award themselves such inflated salaries and corruption stemmed, there might be enough money around to pay for such projects domestically.

 (Smiling primary school kids in Pujehan)

First night was spent at a Catholic retreat in Kenema, and offered my most peaceful night since arriving. Surrounded by palm trees, it was quiet and cool, and the air clean enough for fireflies, which I haven't seen since leaving Japan. The purpose of the trip was to visit local groups who had each received a £1000 EU funded micro-loan, and check that all was fine. The first group was made up largely of females, and their loan had been used to set up a number of the ladies as market traders. In a part of the country most severely ravaged by the war, it was great to see such a committed group, and while only a couple of them were literate, it hadn't stopped the success of their enterprise.

(While his parents attended the meeting, he was more interested in my bottle of water)

Leaving the Christian pocket of Freetown, the lack of churches, and the increased size of the mosques has certainly re-enforced the fact that this is a prominently Muslim country. It has been interesting for me, after studying Islamic architecture, to try and guess where the funding for the mosques has come from, based on the designs. Freetown's main mosque, with its large central dome and two minarets is clearly Ottoman in design, while most feature a four minareted square building, lacking a dome, and therefore a more Arabic influence. I have seen Iranian, Saudi and Yemeni flags on the sides of some, so at least some of my observations seem to be accurate.

Prices for fruit up-line are greatly cheaper, with five pineapples costing 10,000 leons, rather than 5,000 for one in Freetown, an this has meant a bonanza of fruit at home now. Dinner last night was simply pineapple and mango!

People in Sierra Leone are very friendly, and it is a national stereotype of which they are particularly proud. In almost any situation here, people will come and say hello, and make small talk. However, on an almost daily basis people ask me to 'be friends', which, after the initial pleasantries, is usually followed by a request for financial help. The association between white foreigner and money is, of course, normally an accurate one, with my (and the Sierra Leoneian volunteers as well) weekly stipend of £50 being double what might be considered the lowest working wage here for a maid or cleaner, yet it is the national minimum wage. Thankfully, a smile and simple 'no' seems to do the trick, with no apparently animosity, with the decision to ask in the first place seemingly following the “If you don't ask, you don't get” mentality.

I saw another devil last Saturday, this time at the head of a hunting secret society. About twenty members were walking down one of the major roads in Freetown, lead by an elaborately dressed devil, covered in large shells. The ability to disrupt traffic, without any need of a police escort again highlights the importance of such societies here. This was after coming back from a day spent at the beach at the annual YMCA trip. This time we were far enough away from Freetown for the water to be swim-able, and it was glorious; warm enough to be comfortable, while still refreshing, unlike Dubai's bath temperature waters. It was nice to see everyone from work in a social setting, letting their hair down (although this doesn't really apply here, with most people having shaved heads, upon which the ladies wear wigs), and it was a really fun day out. Every now and then local fishing boats would land and try to sell their catches, and added to the whole experience. Some of the locals from the nearby village also joined in the football games, including a very sweet deaf boy. With no apparent knowledge of sign language by people in the village, his life must be a very confusing one, yet we tried to be as inclusive as possible and were rewarded by his amazing smile. The day proved to be a highlight of my stay here so far.

(Hamilton Beach)

Week 4

“There was no law, no justice, just the legal trappings of a corrupt colossus that moved unhaltingly forward, engulfing everybody in its path.”

I may as well continue with the theme of starting every post with a literary review, this time The Devil that Danced on the Water by Aminatta Forna. As the daughter of one of Sierra Leone's most respected politicians in the early1970's, it is a very interesting look at the political situation before - and the hopes and dreams of the population following - independence, and documenting how the all too frequent slide into corruption and despotism that has plagued West African politics took hold, which ended in the framing and execution of Dr. Muhammed Forna for treason. The account, written through the experiences of the daughter, has reminded me a lot of Aung San Suu Kyi's story of her exile and time abroad, and both have shared many similar experiences as children of famous and ultimately doomed political figures. Army coups, sudden flights to safety, hiding from secret police, both stories have all the makings of a spy novel. It was amusing to learn that the Sierra Leone Daily Mail was as equally sensationalist, conservative and inflammatory as the UK tabloid namesake is today, both serving to alarm, rather than inform.

The main 'baddie' in Forna's account is the former president Saika Stevens, the man elected to stop the country descending into a one party dictatorship – the irony being that under him, that is exactly what happened. Initially very popular, his corrupt handling of the diamond fields and the ruthless way he treated anyone who criticised or opposed him quickly eroded his popularity, and the country began its downward slide. It is directly because of Stevens' actions that the civil war had the space and fuel with which to ignite twenty years later – massive youth unemployment, abject poverty, spiralling inflation, endemic corruption and an army kept under-funded and under-trained to avoid coup attempts. Little wonder that the RUF was able to easily recruit to its ranks - including many soldiers - on a mandate of anti-corruption and power to the people – the very same people they would attack and mutilate with such reckless abandon for the next fifteen years. It is with surprise then to see that one of the two major roads into town, along which I walk every day, is Saika Stevens Street. The country is either very good at forgiving, or just better at forgetting the negative parts of its history than most; Russia and the former Soviet States have renamed most of the former Stalin Streets.

(Gate at the original landing site of freed slaves, now the city hospital)

Last weekend, the UK volunteers and three of our counterparts visited Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary, which is pretty much the only tourist attraction in the country. It is an amazing locally run place, with a dedicated and well trained staff, doing a wonderful job of saving, rehabilitating and finally releasing into the wild orphaned and rescued chimpanzees. The only negative is that is it mainly foreigners who visit, or indeed show any interest at all in the plight of Sierra Leone's wildlife, and I feel for the constant battle the staff face in their work. Situated on the edge of the national park which covers most of the Freetown peninsular, the jungle was gloriously cool and quiet, and it was a shame we had to return to the city so soon. On the drive we passed the newly built US embassy, a suitably massive and impersonal concrete complex, sited miles outside of the city. The new Chinese road is the nicest I have seen in the country, and largely empty up here. The surrounding area is certainly leafier than the city but clear deforestation blights the view. Afterwards we visited two expat cafés down in the posh west side of town, and they fit the model around the world of such places: Arctic air-conditioning, smart and attentive staff, Wi-Fi, milkshakes and western food, as well as the usual assortment of cripples and beggars outside. The contrast between what is only offered to foreigners – at a hugely inflated price – and what locals receive down-town is huge. Indeed, it is almost incomparable, especially when it comes to customer service, with staff who seem to care even one iota about their job and their customers being a rare find.

Despite bringing a backpack full of books with me, I have read almost all of them, and set out on Sunday to the Victoria Park market to find some more. Once a focal point of city life, it has been fenced off and closed now for a number of years, a real shame as it is the only green spot in town. If you are after out-of-date textbooks, trashy novels or communist theory then you are in luck, and with only a couple of stalls open, I left with Leon Tolstoy's The Russian Revolution and a collection of three novels by Joseph Conrad, including Heart of Darkness, £4 for the lot. While I have a kindle with 30,000 odd books, I both prefer reading paper books and supporting reading where I can - I have seen very few people reading here. It being a Sunday, the streets were much quieter than normal, with only Muslims out shopping and working, while smartly dressed Christians made their way to and from church.

The park is near the presidential offices, and therefore has a strong military presence. I always find it interesting to see which country has trained and/or supplied a nation's army, based on the uniforms of the soldiers. With each of the major superpowers having their own camouflage design, this is somewhat easier than it sounds. In Armenia the soldiers used Russian designs, in Georgia it was American, and here the soldiers wear the distinctive British BDU pattern, a legacy of British involvement in bringing about the end of the civil war, and its continued role in training the armed forces.

I have been asked to talk about my host family, so here goes. I am staying with Claudius Taylor, his wife Chris and two kids, Claudius Jr (9) and Claudia (3), so remembering names certainly isn't a problem, and I will get a photo soon, I promise. Claudius is the director of the Y-Care programme here, and lives in a top floor apartment in down-town Freetown, a twenty minute walk to the YMCA. Simple but comfortable, it highlights both the priorities of Claudius, and the strange contrasts found in the city. We have no running water inside, instead relying on water carried up each day, yet have a – albeit manually refilled – toilet, and a huge flat screen TV with 400 channels (and at $100 a month for the package, consuming a sizable chunk of his salary). I had an interesting conversation with Claudius last night about life in Freetown during the war, and having read about the horrors, his candid recollections of daily life was very sobering. Despite the YMCA building being very close to the presidential offices, it was largely unscathed by the fighting, and became a refugee centre for YMCA members from across the country, at points being at 300% capacity. The staff were not left unscathed however, with a number of senior management being killed in the heaviest fighting which centred on the east of the city. Unlike the 'states' I visited last summer for my Masters dissertation, which still show visible signs of warfare (often on purpose as a propaganda tool) Freetown has been remarkably quick in patching up the architectural scars. The same of course, is impossible for the physical human ones, with the rebels (RUF) tactic of chopping of arms and hands ensuring that there are daily reminders of the war in the city, and making it that much harder to move forward.

I have also been asked to elaborate more about the food here. Rice is the staple carbohydrate, with fried plantain making a regular appearance (like a semi-sweet banana, very nice). On top of this goes a 'soup', normally made from cassava or potato leaf – and less often peanut - with (lots of) chilli and bits of fish and meat added. On the side may be a piece of fried fish or chicken. My favourite dish thus far is a bean stew, with fried plantains, and I will make sure to have the recipe before I leave – you have been warned! Mangos, bananas, papaya, avocado, coconut and oranges are all common, and popcorn, cashew and kola nuts are available everywhere.

(Mango tree)

In order to slow down my book consumption slightly, I have started watching a documentary series I brought with me, Cosmos. It is a fantastic look at the current extent of scientific human knowledge, centred around cosmology. It is presented in a very slick and clear format, and is remarkably approachable, even for those new to the topics covered. It is always nice to learn something while I am abroad, and this is most certainly aiding my knowledge on the subjects covered. While I don't think it is on TV in the UK , more information about it can be found here: http://www.cosmosontv.com. Despite being a Fox programme, the show is about as far away from the anti-science, pro-ignorance Fox News drivel as possible!

The thunderstorms are increasing in regularity, heralding as they do each year the onset of the rainy season, which lasts here from May to September, reaching its peak in July/August. This means less blue sky, and more overcast grey ones, yet the temperature hasn't really changed, being a steady 30-35degrees during the day, and 27-29 at night. Fine when the electricity works, but given the erratic nature of supply, that is not so often. Most houses and offices have their own generators but with the relatively high price of fuel (about half that of the UK), they are used sparingly. This lack of power also means lack of internet in offices, and is very disrupting to business and communication, and is something that certainly needs fixing if Sierra Leone ever wants to improve upon its woeful economic position as one of the world's poorest countries.

I monitored a gender conference held over two days at the YMCA, Transformative Masculinity organised by Barbara, an Austrian lady working here on gender issues, and facilitated by two very good African NGOs. Attended by most of the male staff here, as well as some local partners, it was great to see such a workshop in a country that is so heavily dominated by the masculine. It was interesting to note that when asked how many people in the room had ever had a female boss, only about half had - the YMCA here has never had any senior female staff. While 90% of the answers and comments here would be applicable back home, it is the 10% that makes the workshop here so important, as they are the ones unique to Sierra Leone. When combining a list of extreme 'male' characteristics, to the usual list of strength/aggression/drinking/womanising/lack of emotion, corruption was added, which certainly wouldn't be on one in the UK, and highlighted the cultural differences apparent at all levels. Arguing whether actions and beliefs relating to 'original sin' were cultural or natural characteristics was something I wasn't prepared for, and again wouldn't have surfaced at a general meeting in the UK. There was a heated debate on the secret societies that are still strong in rural areas, and for people in power, and the central role they take on topics such as FGM. Their function, to teach girls how to be women, and boys to be men, is at the very heart of the whole debate surrounding gender stereotypes here. Without change to the power of these societies, little social change will happen. The fact that were was a debate about it here though, with loud descenting voices was heartening to see though, suggesting the process has at least started.