from bullets to bazookas: August 2005

Sunday, August 28, 2005

life as they know it

The postal service
In the West it's a great Indie band, and throughout the rest of the somewhat civilized world, it's an institution that will carry your written message or a package to your intended recipient. The postal service is totally fubar here in Salone. Well for one, not too many people have what you would call an address. Outside of Freetown (and even in Freetown) people live in shanty huts situated in the woods or the side of a mountain. The government really hasn't sorted out a method of controlling where and how people live. Secondly, even if you do have an address - like the places where I have thus far lived, you're lucky if you will receive any mail. Mail sent into Salone will most likely be lost in transit, or mishandled and forgotten in some container somewhere. Sure there is a massive Post Office located in the corner of Siaka Stevens and Gloucester Streets, but the place is pretty much vacant with many empty windows. There are a few clerks seated in booths reading a newspaper, listening to the radio, or flirting.

With that in mind, now for my own encounter with the postal service. On Friday, I went into town on my own for the first time. I took a taxi and asked to be let off at St. John. I wanted to visit the Internet cafe to print out a legal document that I had prepared, and I wanted to get it notarized and sent home to the Bronx. The one way cost of a taxi ride is Le600. When we arrived at St. John, I gave the driver Le2000 and he handed me Le1000. I then sat there and looked at him for two seconds. He then turned around and said "Eh, yu sabi Salone moni, ah?" I replied that I sabied his money and that I am expecting more change. He promptly returned my change and I continued on my way. I got the document printed, took it to the lawyer on Lamina Sankoh Street, got it notarized, and walked further downtown to the DHL office on Rawdon Street. DHL is the most reliable mailing service but it costs an arm and a leg. DHL quoted me Le170,000 to mail one document to the U.S. I promptly walked out and thought to check prices at the post office. Le3500 for regular post (which will most probably never arrive), Le8000 for Express post (might arrive in 2 months), and Le10,800 for Registered Express (should arrive in just over a week). I opted for the last method and they covered my letter with stamps. There was just enough room in the front to stamp Express somewhat over the mailing address. Then I had to take it to another window to get it registered. The man had to paste a barcode over the stamps as there was no more room in the front of the envelope. I then walked to Congo Cross - which was a 45 minute walk.

Weddings with devils
Mathew told me about a wedding he attended yesterday. The groom is Sierra Leonean but lives in London. He came to marry a girl who lives in Waterloo. Apparently, the wedding was so very disorganized that some people had to leave and go out to a restaurant to dine. (Nothing here works according to time except the last ferry which will be sure to leave you stranded in the middle of the night) Many of the weddings hire what's called a gumbe. It's really a drum that's placed between the players legs, and played with the hands. It is also an ensemble of instruments that's played by a gumbe orchestra. There is the gumbe - the drum, there's the angul (angle) - the triangular iron rod beaten with another straight iron rod, there's a so (the o written as an inverted c. Pronounced 'saw' in English) - it's a ribbed piece of metal on which the player slides a piece of metal up and down. The gumbe is something that is a part of the wedding program. After the wedding, there are a group of people outside who are members of the oje (the o is written as an inverted c and the e is written as an inverted 3) also known as the egungun (or egugu) society. The egugu is a secret society of the Fourah Bay Krios. The society has it's own masked devil, or a masquerader from the spirit world. These devils who wear egugu klos (the dress of the devil), do an egugu dans (dance of the egungun devil) on the egugu gron (o written as an inverted c) - which is an open space where the egungun devil dances. It's a very demonic dance that involves wearing of masks, and gyrating of the hips. The sad thing is, this takes place even after some "Christian" weddings. So much of the demonic world is mixed into the culture here that sometimes even subconsciously, people make obeisance to the devil.

Christianity in Africa
I was told about some churches in Nigeria, Kenya, and now in Salone where churches are formed just to make money. I heard of one educated man in Nigeria who had a bit of hard luck finding a job. He approached a preacher for advice and the preacher told him that he should go to Bible school and learn to be a preacher. It's a sure way of making money said the preacher. Prosperity message is widespread here in Africa. Pastors tell their congregations to draw a picture of a car in the mud, and pray to God and God will give you a car. God will multiply only according to how much you give, they preach. If you only give Le500, you'll only get Le1000 in return. If you bring Le1,000,000, God will give you in return Le2,000,000. In many churches, members (I should say patrons) are required to parade to the offering box which is in plain view of the congregation, hold up the white envelope which contains the offering so that everyone will see that you are making an offering, and place the offering in the box. These churches will not allow you to drop change into the box. Mathew told me that he visited a church and was served alcohol for communion. I told him that he is not to take communion in any other church but his own. It's a sad country that needs a lot of prayers. However the people do have tender hearts, and they are easy to talk to and will almost always listen intently to anything new you have to tell them.
....
I understand that tomorrow, I will be leaving for Waterloo. I shall bid goodbye to chicken, and a room to myself. Mommy Dupigny and family have been extremely nice to me (though I burnt the cloth over the wooden table used for ironing - I was using a coal goose!! That thing is dangerous). I shall bid goodbye to the nice wooden pepper grinder on the dining table - the kind you find in fine Italian restaurants. This pepper grinder was what I lived on. It made everything taste a little better.

Dennis killed a small green snake in the compound on Wednesday. It was about 2ft long and didn't look so dangerous. He burried it in the back just 3 inches into the ground. I am sure I'll be seeing a lot of snakes in Shenge.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

working out: body & soul

Good Lord Almighty! Running in Africa is quite different from running along the paved, shaded Pelham Parkway in the Bronx. The evening sun seems just as strong as it was at mid-day. The path - any path you choose will never be flat and straight. Normally, back home, I am used to a combination of running and walking for about 3 miles. Kenneth has been running the entire stretch of about 6 miles since he was young and thinks nothing of it. For him, walking is resting. We went up Main Motor Road, stayed right at the fork towards Murray Court road, over the Aberdeen bridge (the longest bridge in Sierra Leone), uphill past the Sierra Leone Secondary School to Aberdeen village, along beach road going past Aberdeen beach and Lumley beach, to the end of Lumley beach. We then turned around, came back along Lumley beach, cut into beach road, turned left into Wilkinson road, and back to Main Motor Road. The entire stretch was almost 6 miles. It has been some time since I ran and so it was mostly walking, and some running. The walking alone is quite the workout. Walking uphill, downhill, tripping over large rocks on the unpaved roads, balancing yourself at the edges of gutters when your forced to the edge of the road by poda-podas pulling over to pick up or drop off passengers, dodging taxi doors swinging open, and other passers-by.

Kenneth was very considerate and polite. I apologized for interruting his running routine by choosing to walk. He said he was not doing this for himself but he was doing it for me, and he is happy to do whatever I choose to do. If I trip and hop over a piece of scrap metal on the road, he will ask me if I am alright and tell me to take my time. The kindness is all too much. As for me, I don't think much of any of it and I am quite happy to live the rough life. We went past some very bad roads in the dark and he said that the road might be too much for me. I said I would be alright and he was surprised to hear that. By the grace of God, I made it through the entire stretch without a hitch. We began the routine at 5 PM and returned at 8 PM. By 7, the roads were very dark and there are no street lights. (Speaking of lights, since I arrived in Salone, NPA [National Power Authority] has supplied us electricity for three days at about 30 minutes for each of those three days). I think it was a great breaking in. My legs are sore, and my chest cavity hurts a bit, but it's the nature of breaking into the habit again.

There has been a change of plans. I've been told that I will not be teaching in the school anymore. I will be sent to Waterloo to help with the work there, remain there for a few months, travel to Bo, Shenge, and elsewhere. I am not entirely sure of the details. Whatever it may be, I know I made the choice to take a year out of my life to do something good, and I am sure God will honor that.

Certain things have caused me to feel a bit different, you could say. In Philippians 2:14, it says: "Do all things without murmurings and disputings..." I am trying to practice that in my life, but my problem is my open, blunt honesty. I often open my mouth and speak what I feel inside, rather than overlooking because that would make me feel hypocritical. Should I keep my mouth shut for the sake of peace and to please others? I was thinking about this this evening, and came across Galatians 1:10: "For do I now persuade men or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ." Verses 11 and 12 clearly states that what Paul teaches, and what he learned, he did not learn from man, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ. However I am always quickly reminded of my pride when I question things. So you see? Here is my predicament. I need quite a bit more of your prayers because though I am quickly reminded of my transgressions, pride, arrogance, etc, and I accept it to be so, I also know I am redeemed. I continued to ponder on my habit of questioning, and not always accepting upfront what I'm told. I came across Romans 3 quite by accident. Verse 3: "For what if some did not believe? shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? 4, God forbid: yea let God be true, but every man a liar... 7, For if the truth of God hath more abounded through my lie unto his glory; why yet am I also judged as a sinner?" The entire chapter was interesting so I resolved to read the entire book (of Romans) soon. I also know that in I Corinthians 10:12, it says: "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." So do keep me in your prayers as people are many times much more rougher than the terrain out here. I am sure I'll be alright. It's that faith that continues to keep me going. I am learning.

Mommy Dupigny (her name is spelled Ryllia) is weak again, but much better than she was a few days ago. David hasn't called to let us know he arrived in London. I am sure he should be alright.

Last night, I got a hold of some Q-Tips...you don't want to hear the rest of that story. I think I shall invest in some.

I went to vist a friend Philip's house today. He lives with his mother and father in a shack that's about 10 ft x 15 ft. There is of course no electricity and no wiring. It's located somewhere in the middle of a hill and you have to walk downhill to get to the place. There is one dilapidated bed in the corner of which is their closet. The toilet and bath are located in a seperate, much smaller shed and there is no plumbing. God bless these people! And they don't complain about anything! They're happy. The father always has a smile from ear to ear and his eyes crinkle up at the edges when he smiles. Beautiful hearts.

Happy Birthday Leah and Mickey. I haven't forgotten you!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

normal chaos

Mommy Dupigny is doing much better today and is able to cook and walk about. Dave bid us goodbye yesterday. Dropping him off at the airport is a half-a-day affair. We were picked up at 2:30 PM and taken to church. There, several people had letters for David to take back to friends and family. After all the well wishes for a safe journey, We left the church at about 3:00.

The journey is two part. The drive from Freetown to the ferry, took about 30 minutes. There were four of us including David, and we purchased tickets at the gate at Le1500 per person for second class tickets. The ferry which is supposed to leave the dock at 4 PM only began loading passengers at 5:00 PM. There were initially three ferries - years ago. One of which has been destroyed due to the lack of maintainance. The other one, named Fanta constantly has problems. The third one named Murzuk was donated to the country by the Libyan President Qadhafi. This is owned and operated by a private company and is hence fairly decently maintained. Murzuk however was undergoing repairs yesterday because she had gone over a sunken boat and destroyed her propellers. The only operational ferry was Fanta. Unlike the crew of Murzuk, the Fanta crew (owned and operated by the government) are not meticulous in their loading and unloading procedures (there really is no procedure). When the ferry arrived at the docks. A herd of people ran out even before the ferry was properly docked. There was a Mobile oil tanker on board which was driven out of the ferry. No sooner did the driver bring the vehicle to the ground and drive it up the ramp, the oil trailer portion of the truck disengaged from the main cabin of the truck and began to roll backwards without any control. Luckily there were no people or cars behind the disengaged trailer, and the trailer was not filled with fuel. We were spared from a catastrophe.

When they began the boarding process, cars from the rear of the queue drove up to the front for lack of supervision. We thought a fight would break out. Driving up the ramp into the ferry, cars were slip sliding, and almost rolled back into the water because of the steep angle, and poor traction. Five columns and seven rows of cars, mini busses, and SUV's were jam packed into a ferry much smaller that the Staten Island ferry in New York.

We finally embarked on our journey to the other shore at almost 6 PM. There are of course men, women, boys and girls fighting their way through the tightly packed ferry with baskets well balanced on their heads, selling bananas, toffee, powdered milk, books, maps, and soft drinks. There was even a man with his face painted white claiming he was a white man. He had his tie tied in a way that it hung down to his knees. His bum was padded, and he had clown shoes on. He walked around making jokes and extending his hat out to the passengers.

When we arrived, again there was a mass exodus of people coming off the ferry in a frenzy, and mad rush of people running into the ferry. There is no order in driving the vehicles out of the ferry. It is left to each person's discretion to bring their vehicles out safely and watch out for other vehicles making mad, uncalled-for U-turns on the ferry. A surge of black fume is released from the exhausts of diesel engine vehicles accelerating in an attempt to come off the ferry. We finally came off safely, our exposed body parts covered with thin layer of black soot. The drive from there to Lungi airport was about 30 minutes and it's just a straight path from the docks. At the airport, they charged us the fee to park the jeep and did not return change but shoo'd us off. We later realized that although they charged us the price for a jeep, they gave us a ticket that's meant for a car. So if we were to be questioned about parking, we would have no proof that we had actually paid enough to park the jeep.

There was a queue to get into the airport, but the guards did a horrible job at controlling the crowd. Employees at the airport came out and fetched people that they personally knew, and escorted them into the airport while those others who did not know anyone waited impatiently in queue. David in his very New York attitude, just walked right in and did not bother to even look at the queue or the guards. The queue, once inside zig-zagged about four times before ending at the officer at the gate. There is an airport tax of $35. That's dollars, yes. We waited outside looking in until the crowd outside filtered in. We were then allowed to walk in and wait inside. We waited until David passed the check-in gate and made a dash back to catch the last ferry that was to leave at 9:00 PM. We paid for the ticket. The man who we handed the money to promptly put Le5000 into his pocket as the place was very dimly lit. Tommy who was travelling with us saw this happen. The man then announced that that we were Le5000 short and Tommy got into an argument with the man, calling him a thief. Bro. John Samuel did not see what had happened and tried to calm Tommy down. Bro. John began talking to the man calmly, but the man wanted Tommy and I to walk into the office, and asked Bro. John to drive in with the jeep. He wanted Tommy and I to pay for first class tickets. Finally after heated arguements which drew a crowd, we gave him another Le5000 and drove in. We arrived five minutes to nine and waited in queue. There were some young girls on the side who stuck their heads into the back seat of the jeep where I was seated, seeing that I was an Opoto, and kept asking me questions in Temne which I did not understand. They then spoke in English and asked for water. I gave them half a bottle of water and half a pack of Bama-G Glucose biscuits. They stood there and had a conversation with me and kept asking me for money though I refused. They finally gave up and left. The ferry arrived at 10:30 and had trouble docking. It kept crashing into the concrete pillars on the side. Once docked, it was the same circus all over again. We arrived back in Freetown at 12:00 AM and learned that our tire was almost flat. It must have punctured coming up the ramp into the ferry. We drove back home with the half deflated tire.

It's a rough life but it's not hard to get used to. Corruption is exactly why Sierra Leone did not qualify for the G8 debt cancellation. It's evident everywhere. Unless you open your mouth and put up a fight, they will take you for a ride. It's quite the learning experience.

With David gone, I will have to spend the rest of the year making friends and learning the country. I will be assuming my running routine starting tomorrow. I found a boy named Usman (Kenneth) who will go running with me. Construction of a new school begins tomorrow and I will go help with that as well. Bro John Noel came out of a slight attack of malaria two weeks ago. He is now healthy and is working on the school construction. David will be in London for four days and then return to New York. You can grill him when he gets back. He'll have a lot of stories to tell. Don't believe everything he has to say about me ;)

Saturday, August 20, 2005

trek up the mountain

Not much going on yet. I am sure the weekend will be eventful. Things are a bit slow as everyone is settling back down, moving around, and re-adjusting after all the preparations and changes after convention.

I've been reading anything I could find. An encyclopedia on birds, old newspapers and BBC's Focus on Africa magazines, an old copy of Awake!, a publication of the Jehovah's Witnesses that had some really interesting articles about mountains, an article about why people in certain countries drive on the right side, and on the left in certain other countries. Here in Salone, driving is done on the right side of the road. There are no traffic signals as there is no electricity. At intersections and round-abouts (as in most third world countries), traffic is directed by a policeman.

Hailing from Bangalore, India, and then the concrete jungles of New York City, I don't often get to see and enjoy the mountains. Lush green mountains in their majesty and grandeur are plenty in Salone. The Freetown peninsula is one of the few places in West Africa where mountains can be found near the sea. After reading the article in Awake!, I had a better appreciation for the mountains all around me. Sierra Leone got its name when the Portuguese navigators arrived in 1462. They called the land Serra Leão (Lioness Mountain). Bro. John Samuel took David and I on a ride across town. We visited Fourah Bay Campus, one of the oldest 'English medium' universities in Sub-Saharan Africa. The university was founded by the Church Missionary Society in 1827. We then drove up Leicester Road all the way up Leicester Peak. From Leicester Peak, you have a good view of the ongoing construction of the new American Embassy. After the war, the Americans felt they should relocate to a mountain. At the new location, the embassy will be free from any possible dangers. The British embassy with green roofs covering all of its buildings is located just a few feet from the construction of the American Embassy. UN soldiers have a base at the peak of the mountain. Funny thing is, we were able to drive into the UN campus. The soldiers were all friendly and smiled and waved at us. I hope they have a way of detecting those of us who are friendly, and those who might be a danger.

From Leicester Peak, we drove back down to Lumley beach. The beach is popular with UN and aid workers. We drove by Bangladeshi troops playing soccer, UN aid workers jogging along the beach, and Chinese and Lebanese at their beach side beer shacks and restaurants. The beach is scattered with rubbish, but I am sure it would be cleaned in the summer. It looks safe enough to swim, but there you might have an encounter with a crab or two.

....

I learned something interesting about the wives in the Krio tribe. This apparently happens only among those in the Krio tribe. If the man is wealthy and has a lot of land and possessions, it is common for his wife to grind glass into a fine powder and cook it in the fufu to kill the husband and inherit all of his possessions. Darn women! They're trouble all over the world!

For the past three days, Mommy Dupigny has been bed-ridden with malaria. She is faint, has no strength to move around, and can barely eat. She is getting better though and we hope that by Monday she'll be out and about.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

my constitution

This week had been utterly boring so far - except for Tuesday. On Monday, I tried pigs' feet. It wasn't anything thrilling and it did nothing for my palate, but maybe it was just the way it was cooked. A dear friend of mine asked me not to condemn food after just one try and advised that I might acquire a taste by the second try. So I tried Cassava leaves again - this time cooked by Mommy Dupigny. It wasn't so bad because it wasn't drowned in palm oil, and it was seasoned a bit better. I won't say I've acquired a taste for it, but it's tolerable - for me.

On Tuesday, Mommy Dupigny announced that a bull was to be slaughterd at her cousin's house and asked if we'd be interested in coming along to watch. The slaughter was to be undertaken by men from the Fula (or Fullah) tribe. The men of this tribe are known and designated for their skills in handling and slaughtering cattle. They are very quick and professional at it. I have heard about the Fulas but this was going to be my first time watching them at work.

The Fulas I am told are herdsmen, and are also traditionally keepers of small shops. Some are employed as domestic servants. People of this tribe are dispersed throughout Sierra Leone. I am also told that if you move to a town where you don't see any Fulas, it is probably a town where you can't make much of a living. These Fulas live in towns where money is easier to come by. They will do anything to make money, including sell their first born to the fetish people.

I was expecting to see folks dressed in tribal garb with markings on their flesh, but the two men I saw looked just like everyone else. We all headed towards the bull that was tied to a tree trunk. The bull was dead in twenty minutes. It took them all of three minutes to get the bull down and subdued. When they bring the bull to the house, they usually leave a loose rope tied to one of the front feet. When the bull is ready to be slaughtered, they pull on this rope, which destablizes the bull. They then bring the rope around to the rear feet, wrap the rope around both rear feet while one of the men hold the tail firmly. They then pull on the rope hard, and bring the bull down. With the tail being held firmly, they now tie all four feet together. While the tail is still being held, one of the men will grab the mouth of the bull while pulling the horns toward the ground. Holding the mouth, they pull down to stretch the neck for a clean cut. For the next fifteen minutes after the neck is cut, the bull will struggle for air until the blood and feces have been drained. The legs are then loosed, buckets of water are poured over to wash the blood off, and the chopping begins. David and I watched and recorded the event for about twenty five minutes until David decided to put on a bigger show. I saw him slowly move towards a tree and lean on the tree. I thought he was going to take pictures from another angle. He then asked for a bottle of water, as he began hugging the tree. Before we could turn around to go get water, his rear was on the floor - still hugging the tree. We grabbed him quickly and took him to the car to fan him and give him water. One of the women who was a pastor's wife laid hands on him and began a prayer, rebuking the demons. After he came to, he was more worried about why his shirt had been stripped off him then the drama itself. For the rest of the day, we laughed about it, and discussed if it was the sight of blood that did it to him. One of the older women commented that I had a strong "constitution". I have never heard the word being used this way. I assumed it must be something good if it kept me on my feet. So to those of you who are praying for me, continue to pray that my "constitution" remains strong. I'll leave those Icelanders to hug their trees. David got plenty of rest and is doing just well now.

My parents called and I had a conversation on speakerphone. Dave had a good laugh because every sentence began with "Eh man!..." or "Oh man!..." or "Eh boy!..."

Krio is a very picturesque language. When translating the word extortioner to Krio, you must give an example of what a extortioner is. "If you are to give the man 2000, he will ask of you 2500". David and I had fun with the translation for the verse in Numbers 23:22. "God brought them out of Egypt; he hath as it were the strength of a unicorn. The word used to translate unicorn was "jackass". Go figure! But it is a very interesting language. More words:

pikin	child
boy pikin	boy
bobo (o written as an inverted c)	boy
gal pikin	girl
wef	wife
man	husband
smol (o written as an inverted c)	small
tif	theive, theif, steal
tolotolo	turkey
fol (o written as an inverted c	fall, or fowl (chicken)
bele (e written as an inverted 3)	belly
bobo bele	boy fond of eating or boy with a large belly
angri	hungry
kil	kill
kilman	murderer
kil tu bads wit wan ston	kill two birds with one stone
na rod	on road
oshya (o written as an inverted c)	polite expression of sympathy

School starts in September. David will be leaving on Monday. Too many people who need help. I have much too little to give. Everyday BBC reports of some new peril on this continent. It's all too much at times and not everyone can be helped though I wish it. It's quite sad. The needs are simple, legitimate, and plenty when there really shouldn't be such needs. I came across a boy who is almost into college. That is a HUGE accomplishment for a young person here. He however was thrown out of school as he could not afford to pay fees for the last three months. He wants to be an engineer. He showed me his class notes on electro-magnetism, and told me of his ambitions. He is always reading when I see him, and he is asking around for anyone who can support his education. His friend Matthew who is a servant at Mommy Dupigny's found him and took him in and gave him a place to stay - which is all his kind heart could afford to do. I could not give much but I gave him a little for which he was hugely appreciative. Education really is the only way out. $400 will cover much of his education. Augustine is his name. He's 23. He's an avid supporter of the United States. Keep him in your prayers, If you would like to help, let me know.

Monday, August 15, 2005

reporting live from Salone

Happy Birthday Jossy. Happy Belated Birthday Kess, Bharti, Suze, and Sophy. All last week, we had been absolutely busy as the Sierra Leone Convention was held from the 11th to the 14th. On Monday the 8th, David and I were moved to Mommy Dupigny's house. She lives not 5 minutes away from the church. She lives with her husband Ayo, and some hired help. Both Mommy Dupigny and Daddy Ayo (In Salone, anyone who is significantly older than you should be respectfully addressed as Mommy and Daddy, or Pa and Ma) had lived in London for ages, and have come back home to Salone to make their home here. Mommy Reela (her first name) moved to London when she was very young to pursue her education and career. She was a nurse, and is now retired and on pension. Daddy Ayo has 3 more years to go until retirement because the retirement age for men is slightly higher. They are a wonderful family, and because of their British exposure, they cook fine foods. David and I have been eating well prepared meals for the time being. We will be transfered back to the church soon enough.

The Convention was a sight indeed. People travelled hours to arrive at church, and everyone was accomodated and fed. There were guests from as far as Kailahun (a town 291 miles from Freetown). There was a boat load of people from Shenge, as travel by boat is the best way to arrive at Freetown. The boat drops them off at Tombo, which is an hour and a half away from Freetown (by car). David and I went again to Tombo to pick up an oversized basket of fish, and a pickup truck load of cassava leaves to feed the just over 1000 crowd. We rented out some space in two of the local schools, and spread plastic mats on the floor for the people who arrived from Bo, Shenge, Kenema, and Moyamba. The folks from Guinea, Ghana, Kenya, Togo, DRC, and Nigeria were taken in as guests at various homes (as David and I were).

I have never seen a group of people worship as these folks who attended convention. The worship service sounded like a 1000 member choir, everyone singing at the top of their lungs. The local songs have a very ethnic rhythm, and sounds marvelous when an entire congregation joins in. The testimonies were all very encourging. I especially enjoyed the one from a certain Bro. Sonny and Sis. Gladys from Nigeria. The testimony went on over an hour, but it was rather captivating.

Two nights ago, I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. David and I woke up at 2AM and began chasing down the mosquitoes in the room. We killed most of them except for about three which kept escaping us. They had a feast. We now spray the room an hour before we head to bed. If we ever crack the door open to go out to use the toilet, we let in a dozen or so mosquitoes. We then have to chase them down. It's just been pure humor at night when I begin playing the harmonica at 2 AM and David wakes up with a funny look on his face. He claims he has a lot to say in his testimony when he returns to New York next week. I might be able to add some pictures when he returns back.

I met two little girls Feebe and Febina, and their mother on Wednesday. They are from Shenge. Her husband and father (the mother's) were killed during the war. She has absolutely nothing to survive. She wants to move to Freetown to find work as she doesn't have enough money to keep her kids in school. It's about Le5000 just for a child to be interviewed for admittance, and Le35000 a year for tuition. There are also expenses for uniform, transportation, meals, etc. That's a little over $15 per child. I will help her as much as I can, but if anyone is interested in helping, there are MANY folks who are in the same situation and MUCH worse. I understand that in the provinces, living conditions are incredibly poor. When little Feebe saw David and I, she was attached to us and didn't want to let go of David. She held on. This was the first time we'd met. I took a picture of her and David together. She told her mom that she had made friends with two white people and one of them "took a snap" of her.

Rice, the staple food, costs Le65000 per bag. This is far too much for many to afford. Another way to help might be to send bags of rice, or canned vegetables. Also, clean, neat, and modest clothing will relieve many of the burdens of spending for clothing. Education really is the key to get many out of poverty. I learned that these people have a desire to learn. I met many who asked me to help them learn more about computers. So many of them love to listen to BBC, and read whatever they can find. Education is not very expensive when the cost is converted to U.S. dollars.

I purchased a copy (turns out to be pirated) of the documentary "Cry Freetown" by a journalist named Sorious Samura. It contains live footage of the war, and CNN interviews regarding the documentary. Sorious had won several awards for the documentary as he was the sole journalist to cover the war while all other journalists fled the country. He is a Sierra Leonean, and he stayed behind to tape the war. He succeeded in making the rebels think that he was on their side. He witnessed many of the murders, the cutting of limbs, brutality, and rapes. He could not do anything but watch, and hope that the documentary would open the eyes of the West. I thought of the song "Ghetto Gospel" by Tupac. It's is a rather alarming and gruesome documentary. I am sure you can get the real version (as opposed to the pirated, blurry version) in the UK or U.S.

I spoke to several people about the war. There is one brother in church who had to bury several hundred bodies. The rebels dumped many of the bodies under the bridge that later came to be known as the Peace Bridge. The rebels did not make it past the Peace Bridge because of the Nigerian (ECOMOG) forces who were sent in to defend the country. One early morning, some of the rebels came into the town situated under the Peace Bridge and asked some of the locals who the local pastor was and they all pointed to Bro. Atiba who is not exactly a pastor but a member of the church. The locals all designated him pastor because he used to talk to them about God. Well the rebels knocked on his door and asked him if he was the pastor and he denied the claim. The rebels scolded him and took him up to their headquarters, fed him, told him not to give them a hard time, and asked him to get some of the young men in the village, and go bury the dead. He went around that morning, recruited many of the young men in the village, and gave them the shovels the rebels gave him, and went around digging 3 feet holes to bury the dead. He said a small prayer and moved on to the next body. He narrates that the rebels used to grab people who resisted them, ask them if they wanted "short sleeves" or "long sleeves". If they said short sleeves, they would chop off their arms at the elbow. If they said long sleeves, their arms would be severed at the wrists. If they came across a pregnant woman, they would argue amongst themselves whether the unborn child would be male or female. Then to prove who was right, they would cut open the stomach. Many of the people who were affected by the war find it hard to speak about it, but some are glad to share their experiences with someone as most of their loved ones have been killed.

David finished reading my copy of "Through the Gates of Splendor", and has now taken up "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn". I was reading the book and he got bored and picked it up and has not put it down for hours. He reads me funny excerpts when I ask him what on earth is he cracking up about.

D reported from Sri Lanka about her pet spider Peter and his sad demise. Well I have my own here in Mommy Dupigny's house. I haven't named him, but at night, when the lights are turned off, he comes out on the floor to scrounge around. When I walk in at night with a flashlight and see him there on the floor, I quickly drive him up the wall under the sink. He knows it's where he should be when I shine a light on him. If he doesn't move, he knows what's coming to him. Perhaps this newly aquired disciplining skill will come in handy when I begin teaching at the school here. So long for now!

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

storytime

I had to pack up all my stuff to prepare to head back to Freetown. After packing, I walked to the construction site which is about 2 miles uphill, and began mixing and shoveling concrete to make blocks. It's a pretty good upper-back workout. I worked till about 2 PM and was asked to head back home. Teachers training begins on Wednesday and lasts till Friday.

BBC kept me up all night. I intended to sleep at 10:30 PM, but I was pulled into a BBC program about Iceland and how they are battling deforestation. It was quite interesting. You see, Iceland used to be a bit more green. When the Vikings arrived, they brought along their sheep. In Iceland, the sheep roam free. Sometimes, they come home, and sometimes they just don't. These sheep began grazing and multiplying, and soon much of the green was gone. So some clever folks came together to fix this problem. They purchased old World War II DC-3 bombers, and got commercial airline pilots to volunteer to fly these planes. The plan was to fly low, and bomb the land with fertilizers and seeds. (Now there's an idea for our next war. DC-3 bombers to bomb Iran or N. Korea with manure and fertilizer. We would be battling the greenhouse effect, and running terrorists out of their holes.) They even have machines to plant trees. Everyone is involved in making Iceland greener. They interviewed some civilians who planted a few thousand trees in a year. Imagine that! One person responsible for planting a forest.

I must have fallen asleep at around 1:30 AM.

While the cheerful Icelanders are saving their forests, I saved myself Le15,000 by getting my hair cut in-house. I remember the last time I tried this. I used to cut my own hair when I was in Junior High School. One day, as I was cutting my hair, I removed the clip to wipe off the hair, and forgot to put the clip back on. I left a huge bald spot on my head that looked like the splitting of the Red Sea. I ran to the barber to get this fixed up, and he made me look like a Gregorian monk. That Sunday, I was asked to testify in church that this was a mistake, so none of the other young boys would make a fashion out of it. As luck would have it, Pastor Don was in church that day. I said my testimony with my stomach in my throat, and shivered my way back to my seat all the way in the back of the church. Pastor Don walks up to the pulpit and calls me back up. He then placed his hand around my shoulders, and proceeded to ask the congregation to stand up and pray for my foolishness. Yes, confessions of a teenage nut!

A tel God tenki that this haircut didn't turn out to be another mishap.

Monday, August 01, 2005

let's make a trade

Another day of making and moving blocks. It rained incessently, but the work went on. I heard a few more confessions today that I just can't post up, but the situation here is a bit sad. Now I feel I should have gone to another place instead of Sierra Leone. Many times, religious, God fearing people really do need a lesson on suffering. From what I have observed, if suffering does not come naturally, it has to be induced. People never seem to enjoy the blessings of God, and heck, any sort of enjoyment might leave you out of Zion. It really is not the way for Christians to live life. I am sure that God never intended to make Christian life a life of suffering. Sure there may be valleys and mountains, but God will only give us what we're able to handle. Induced suffering, and oppressors are not promised gifts of the Spirit. If none of this makes sense, I can explain in person if you're interested. To clear any misunderstandings, I can honestly say that I am not suffering, but I wish I were. People around me are suffering for no cause, and it doesn't make me happy.

On to something else. We were wasting away the evening chatting on the veranda while a young girl from church, about 11 years of age visited us with a note in hand. She is the daughter of the woman (James' aunt) who will be immigrating to New York through the UNHCR program. The note read:

I was a bit choked up when I read it. As I had mentioned, families work all day just to be able to feed the family for the day. If they do not make enough money for the day, they just can't afford meals. I was moved to give her some money, and the church gave enough rice to feed them for three days.

Before I left New York to come to Sierra Leone, my cousin who is in high school, and works after school in a library to make some "spending money", decided to give me her entire paycheck of a little more than $200 for my cause. Grace, this little girl and her family were fed with just a small portion of your funds.

from bullets to bazookas