People and Dogs

Here are some photos of people in Sierra Leone I have met:

This is Idriss, my driver, posing in front of the company car.  I try to take photos of African birds to show my mother, who is an avid bird watcher.  Idriss tries to hit birds on the rural roads we drive on.  For my mother's sake, I won't say how successful he is.    I am always saying to him 'Tek Tim', meaning 'take time' or 'go slow'.  The other workers that ride in the car call him Killer.  Nuf sed.

This is our office administrator back in our Freetown office.  She is a very valuable asset and is a key reason for our successful operations in Sierra  Leone.  She has government ministers and businessmen all over the country on her speed dial.  Everyone knows her.  The General Manager of the airport commented yesterday to me that is was the first day in two months she hadn't called him for something.  I told him the reason was: she was now calling me at the airport instead.  He seemed relieved that someone else was doing her bidding.  Did you read my blog post about us making an emergency landing in Conakry?  Well, she single-handedly got the Sierra Leone airport open and got us permission to land, so we could finally reach our destination.  She is single and loves to dance all night at the clubs on weekends.  She was orphaned in the civil war, and was raised by Catholic nuns.  She supports all her brothers and sisters in her home.

Our Chief Security Officer and his daughter.  Mohammed is in charge of seven security details, one of which is our security crew for our camp at the airport.  He, like everyone I work with here, is extremely polite and hard working.  He asked permission to take the cardboard boxes at the work site home with him.  He wanted to sleep on them.

Being a security guard is Bai's first job.  He is 19 and reports to Mohammed.  One of the perks of the job is the new uniform.  All these guys take meticulous care of their uniforms and boots.  I'm sure it is the nicest thing they own.  Bai wanted to have his photo taken, and posed it himself.  I'm not sure how to give him a copy of it, but I'm sure the office administrator can figure it out.

Here are two schoolboys walking to school.  All schoolchildren wear uniforms chosen by their school.  The roads and street in the morning are full of smartly dressed children in traditional British-style school uniforms.  The rural schools are poorer, and the uniforms simpler.  In the city,  I have seen starched white shirts and bright skirts and pants of blue and green and red.  Some schools have the girls wearing berets.  The Islamic schools will have brightly colored matching headscarves for the girls.

Many people sell coconuts out of wheelbarrows along the streets.  For 50 cents, this man will take his machete and whack off the end of the coconut so you can drink the milk inside.

Lobster fishermen showing off their catch.  Note that this species of lobster has no tail.  It's still good eating, though.

This is what every dog in West Africa looks like.  Yellow and white, long nose, long tail, medium height.  Every. Single. Dog.  Maybe it's the same dog I'm seeing over and over?  Anyway, they trot down the roads like they are heading to a job, and walk with confidence through the markets and houses like they own the place.  No one seems to bother them or even pay attention to them.  They, like the chickens, just co-exist with the folks here.

Rural areas

Here are some photos of the rural part of Sierra Leone.  The most interesting things I cannot photograph.  I find the people and the markets and their houses the most colorful and fascinating.  However, I am sensitive to their dignity.  I would not like it if a stranger got out of a car in my cul-de-sac and started taking photos of my house and my children in the yard.  Then again, my children don't play outside.....  Anyway, I only try and take wide shots or nature shots.  If I have people in my photos, I always ask for permission.  First my hotel:

Entrance to Hotel

My room from the outside

My lizard friend.  Note German Shepherd for scale.  Actually he is about a foot long.

Boys playing soccer in schoolyard

Cassava root cost 2 cents a piece from this girl

Crops are planted in mounds, not rows.  The heavy rains won't wash them away.  

 

This is the type of hand pump common in West Africa.  Living Water Intl maintains pumps like this.

Village Mosque.  Pronounced 'mox', like 'ask' is pronounced 'axe'.  Not kidding.

Pulling a net in from the sea

Inspecting the catch

Baby Octopus

Jellyfish is a common in the catch, too

Posing for a photo

Clothes drying on fishing boat

You know those cheap t-shirts you gave to Goodwill?  They end up in Africa.  I don't know how many elementary school shirts I've seen such as "Bluebonnet Elementary Field Day 2006!".   I've seen "Bear Crossing - Canada" and "Jewish Heritage Day" with a huge blue Star of David on the chest.  The best was a 10 yr old kid wearing "I'm Here! I'm Queer!  Let's Dance!"

Photos of Freetown

Before I headed to the rural area around the airport, I spent a day in the city at our office.  The capital city of Sierra Leone is Freetown, built where mountains meet the sea.  From the ocean, the mountains look like a lion and that is why the first Portuguese sailors named the area Lion Mountain.  Freetown was started by the British and was the place they freed slaves they captured from slave ships heading to America and the Caribbean in the early 19th Century.  Little history is preserved here - most folks are just thinking about day-to-day.  There are few historical sites, but a big one is the 'slave steps' rising from the harbor to a huge cotton tree in the center of town.

Slave steps are under the tree at top of hill

The city is built on the sides of the mountains.

Suburbs

We ride a ferry to get to the airport.  The ocean inlet is about five miles across.  Here are some views from the ferry.:

Fishing boat in front of Freetown

Mercy Ship - a charity hospital ship.  Naomi  Devers can tell you about her daughter serving on this ship.

The private ferry service

The ferry I am riding.

The ferry arrives.  There is a mad rush to get the taxis.

Idriss and Brent look for Palm Wine

My Sierra Leone friends have always talked up palm wine to me.  It is a common alcoholic drink in Africa made from the fermented sap of palm trees.  However, they always say to stay away from the stuff in the cities.  The city stuff has to be transported from the rural areas, and then is usually watered down.  I've been told that I want the fresh stuff in the countryside.  Well, on Sunday, since I found myself in a rural part of Sierra Leone, Idriss my driver and I went looking for palm wine.  The market places in the countryside have all kinds of agricultural products for sale, but apparently palm wine is not something that is sold openly.  I got the impression it is like beer in a dry county.  You have to ask around.  So Idriss stopped men on the road and started asking where palm wine could be purchased.  After a couple of shrugs, we got someone to point down a path off the main road.  We drove about five minutes with no one in sight until we came to a village square.  Idriss asked a man and a kid overheard the question.  The kid said he could take us there.  We let him hop into the back seat and off we went into the jungle.  Has anyone seen The Wire?  This is how you buy heroin in Baltimore.

We pulled up to a shack and the kid got out.  Idriss did the talking to an elderly man there.  The guy looked me over and agreed to sell.  He needed a container to put it in, though.  I had a 2 liter water bottle about half full.  I took a big swig and gave it to the guy.  He put the bottle to his lips and drank the rest.  A few minutes later, he came back with two liters of palm wine in my water bottle.  Now Idriss had to bargain for the price.  I had given Idriss three dollars to work with.  Idriss got it for a quarter.  Two liters of wine for a quarter.  That should tell you the quality of the stuff.

After drinking about half a liter, I poured it down the toilet.  It was mildly fermented, so hardly qualified as alcoholic.  It also tasted like carbonated morning breath.

Tifman in American

Idriss, my driver, and I were sitting in the Land Cruiser under a tree waiting for some trucks to arrive.  We were showing each other hand signs from our cultures,  I was asking him about thumbs up - which means 'one love' here - and the finger/thumb OK circle - which doesn't mean anything here.  After I taught him the middle finger and he taught me a couple of things, the conversation turned to him getting his phone stolen from his car while he was driving in Freetown.  He was going slow in traffic and someone reached in, grabbed the phone, and ran.  That was a big deal to him.  I told him how it is common in the US, and when you park your car you have to hide your valuables or someone will break the window and steal them.  He was dumbfounded.  He asked me to repeat it to make sure he heard it right. 

Then he asked: Why are there tifmen (thieves) in America?  Aren't there plenty of jobs?  There are no jobs here.  An African man steals to feed his family.  Why do they steal in America?

I really didn't have a good answer, except to say the thieves are lazy and don't want to work hard at the plenty of jobs available.  My point was brought home later when I saw the crew out mowing the grass around the runway at the airport.  They mow the grass with machetes, not power tools.  They work from first light to about 11:00, when it gets too hot.  They are in a line and slowly advance, swinging their machetes high above their head as they stoop to get a low cut.  I'm sure the mowing crew worker is feeding his family in a way I can't imagine having to do.

Living Water, Intl.

I am not going to complain anymore about my 'hotel' room. I met Robert and Ruth Search of Living Water, Intl. They are staying in this hotel to take a break from living in the rural areas and to celebrate their wedding anniversary. Living Water is a charitable organization based in Houston that drills and maintains water wells, builds latrines, and educates the folks about hygiene. Robert and Ruth are the only ex-pats here; they have spent four years empowering teams to do this work for themselves. The Searches have adopted a local orphan girl, Mariatu, who is now four and the favorite of the hotel staff. Ruth invited me to see what they are doing in the villages, and I hope to have the time to do so. Coincidentally, our family already contributes to Living Water because of its Houston and Africa ties. I encourage you to look it up on the web.

Random Liberia Notes

Today is my last day in Liberia.  I will spend the next two weeks in Sierra Leone.  This post contains random photos I have taken around the city this week:

Here is a billboard in front of the National Election Commission.  They will be conducting the election a week from Tuesday.

Ballots not Bullets

This is part of the Student Center of the campus of the University of Liberia.  There are 17,000 students on this campus – all commuters, no dorms.  Many of the facilities are open air like this one

Study Hall

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Seasons Greetings from Charles Taylor

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The house of Charles Taylor, warlord and former President now on trial in The Hague for war crimes.  He still has his Christmas lights up

 

 

Many aspects of the civil war are still under the surface in society.  Violence against women was common in the war as a tactic of fear and intimidation.  The attitude is still present.  This billboard reads “Stop Rape – She Could Be Your Mother”.  The phrasing is awkward, but the sentiment is real.

You are welcome at the Ducor Hotel

The Ducor Hotel sits on the highest point of land in Monrovia and overlooks black cliffs on the edge of the sea.  It was once the premier hotel in Monrovia, and a source of pride for the city.  The hotel and grounds are still impressive.  However, after the war began it was abandoned, and for twenty years has housed families of squatters.  Earlier this year, the squatters were ejected and construction began for the renovation of the hotel, much to the joy of the city and the nation.  It is just Liberia’s luck that the funding came from Libya and Muammar Qaddafi.  I have heard that squatters have returned.