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Why do I feel that this won’t be the last time I write about Bruno? My colleagues back home uncovered articles and even saw a National Geographic TV special on the infamous killer chimp of Freetown. They told me to beware of the man-killing, baby-eating giant chimp still loose in Freetown after a dramatic escape from Tacugama, the chimpanzee sanctuary.
I had already met Bala, the founder of the sanctuary, on my first visit. But I wasn’t about to ask him about the details, especially after I learned that Bruno’s mother was killed by hunters, and kept as a pet. Bala rescued the baby chimp, malnourished to the point that he had no hair left. This was the start of the sanctuary, now home to more than 90-orphaned chimpanzees. (Sierra Leone is one of those countries that filled the order for your English grandmother’s 1950 Christmas gift – a monkey)
Last week I went to a screening of a Sierra Leone documentary “Wildlife after War” in which Bala and his chimps are featured (He has been in numerous documentaries). After the showing I got to share a couple of beers with the man himself. He’s a cool dude. Originally from Sri Lanka, but hasn’t been back in over 30 years.
Over a few Star beers, I got the scoop from the source. The senior chimp group, lead by Bruno, learned how to open the complex cage system and made a grand escape – 31 of them. Bruno the leader went down to the road to ensure the path was clear for the group. He met a cab with 3 passengers who thought it was quite the photo op. As the passengers flashed photos the cab driver attempted to scare Bruno off the road. This only upset the giant chimp. Bruno banged on the car severing some fingers of one passenger as the others ran for their lives. The driver ran up to the sanctuary to look for help, however he was met by the other 30 chimpanzees. They mauled him to death.
Over the course of a few months 27 of the 31 escapees returned to the sanctuary. Bruno and the other 3 are alive and well somewhere on the peninsula. Bala has made contact with all of them, but said Bruno won’t show his face. I have to remember my good chimp, bad chimp calls, and my machete when I go camping in the peninsula next week!
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Tacugama Website for more info on Bruno, Bala and how you can buy a monkey! no, you can't buy a monkey! but you can rent one for a party. no, that's a joke too. You can sponsor a chimp of your choice.
http://www.tacugama.com/
Little Abraham. He looks like a little man tonight with his big-boy African dress and slick new shaved hair cut. But he’s taken aback by all the abnormal action on his birthday. I don’t think he really knows what to do while the music plays and kids dance around him. On a normal evening he’d come running to hug my leg, pinch my skin and pet my beard but only the twins and Nasio catch me crashing the party.
I’m jacked to see what actually happens at a 2-year old’s birthday in Africa. About 15 kids sit on 8 chairs and wait while an uncle hooks up the stereo. I’m guessing musical chairs. The party won’t start without Auntie Efay leading everyone in prayer. Then, after about 30 mins of technical problems and several kiddy fights for chairs, and some crying – it wouldn’t be a party without crying –, the music starts and the kids dance. It takes Abraham quite a while to warm up to his party. Instead of the Western party recipe – kids hopped up on caffeine and sugar – these kids are delirious on hip-hop music and one lollipop.
In the video, Abraham sits on the chair in the background and lets out a couple cries of excitement as kids show off their advanced dancing skills. Nasio sports the light blue long sleeve shirt to the right.
Today there is a Poda-Poda (city bus) strike. There has been a zero-tolerance police crackdown on illegal commercial drivers. Police have been fining drivers and confiscating motorcycles without proper documentation.
The poor conditions of this country cannot be attributed to a lack of baseline policy and law. It’s there. On the roads, they have been applying some of these laws recently. Vehicles have “life cards” – ownership documentation – which links the owner with the vehicle; tracks changes of ownership and maintenance; and even identifies the engine serial number (to track changes of engines).
This morning the roads were uncharacteristically bare. The few taxis were jammed with passengers. A city without its iconic Poda-Podas pouncing down the roads, blaring local tunes or obscure reggae music. It was a quiet Monday morning.
On the weekend I went to an ex-pat birthday part. Two live bands including Sierra Leone’s longest serving band. Local kids climbed the brick wall to peer into the club. If they were lucky they would have see Emerson, the country’s top music star. He is like a god here. His music screams out of most Poda-Podas on repeat. We were graced by his guest appearance.
During my first week here my roommate Julian joked about his “all access pass”, while displaying his face ala Vana White. A white face gets you anywhere here. Walk past guards without at word at the British Consulate. Investigate a construction site. Enter the nicest hotel with no problems. Walk into a police station, and you’re the chief’s best friend automatically. Pretty much standard practice for my father at home. But he would have a field day here with the pass.
Pre-departure training set me on the path to think about these things. Jumping the queue seems harmless and fun. But what if it’s at the hospital? A white man’s bleeding baby toe trumps any emergency, even if a local has been waiting all day. And it’s all part of the African cultural package. All accepted without a peep or a mikey meow. The simple hierarchy is whiteman, than the richest to the poorest black man, than the woman and finally the child. (Photo: Me and Joseph Smith an intern with my organisation during an awareness campaign)
At the age of around 10, young boys are taught to serve tea at village gatherings. The whole lesson is to correctly determine the status of everyone, based on wealth, age, power and gender, and serve accordingly. Status can change based on the prosperity of the crop season, or marital status. Boys do this for years so that they eventual understand the hierarchy of the villages.
It is very evident at work. I get served first anytime there is tea or munchies. People in the streets either call me “white boy” or “sir”. Colleagues are starting to call me “professor”. Only if they knew my true identity! Hahahaha! Another older volunteer is branded “doctor”.
So. On Tuesday there is a huge lineup at the bank. After a few minutes of waiting, without any advancement, the manager picks me out of the line and takes me aside to personally complete my business. What do I do? I say “no thanks” of course. I’ll wait. Ya, right!! Not! I accept the service. I was also told not to force western morals and norms on people here! hahaaa! Maybe I’ll change my mind next time. I’ll have to think about it.
My skin may also be the reason I got some face time with the former President of Cape Verde last night at a dinner party. He was the guest of honour. It was pretty sweet to talk frankly with him about Sierra Leone’s problems and potential solutions. I expressed my disappointment about the transportation infrastructure, especially the airport and connection to the city and beautiful beaches, making it almost impossible for tourism and business to naturally flourish. He happily disagreed and pointed to job creation as the key requirement. But when I asked if he would return he laughed and said NO because of poor service from the airport to the hotel. “…first class on the ferry (from airport to Freetown)..” he laughs! Funny man. We joked for a while. He was concerned and surprised with the poor conditions of Sierra Leone. “… at the British Consulate, there was no water in the washroom! … there were lots of people at the meeting! … no water.” He scrunched his nose up to insure that I got the idea that the toilet was full of nice smelling refuse. I got the idea that he had to go really badly. And there was a long queue. That he jumped. Very Seinfeld-like. I invited him to Ottawa, and he invited me to his island country. He gave me his business card with a yahoo email account. (Photo: Shaking hands with Antonio Monteiro, former President of Cape Verde)
Monday marked a glorious day for me. Since I got to Freetown, I’ve been looking everywhere for a guitar. Monday I found it. A slick blue made-in-china classical guitar. It looks like a close relative of Nacho Guitar, the guitar I left in the good hands of my brother. It’s highly possible that Nacho has fallen victim to my nieces little hands by now.
To find it I had to go to PZ market. The heart of bustling Freetown. You seem to have 3 outlet choices for all things here. Almost like Canada – Walmart, Zellers or Sears. Here it’s the pharmacy, the market or the electronics shop. Some electronic shops advertise phones, motorcycles, furniture… and this one, musical instruments. They even had an electric guitar.
I’ve noticed several Montreal Canadiens jerseys of late. Even here they’re jumping on the bandwagon!!
So there I am. Standing at the busy Murray Town Junction, holding the hand of a Sierra Leonean man. For a long time. For the whole of our 5 minute conversation. The man is a colleague of mine. Men like to hold hands here. I think it’s a Muslim thing. He says he wants me to join him at church this weekend. You have to think quickly here, because everyone wants you to be their friend and do something with them. It’s tough. On the one hand you want to experience these things, but on the other hand you have to pick and choose and not disappoint. My standard line is to turn all offers down. “I can’t give you my cell number, it’s work only … I’d love to start a new religion with you, but my mother would be upset … your food looks nice, but I’ve already eaten … I can’t pay for your school, I am a volunteer … I may be white, but I’m not rich…”
But the truth is, I am rich. I have an education and I can leave anytime to premium health care and a rich country. Many people believe that corruption and abuse of power is widespread here because people only live for today. There is little planning for tomorrow. Even my organization CGG. They are going bankrupt. Our accountant is having a hard time putting measures in place to stop the bleeding and right the ship. The organization mitigation strategy is to pray to the lord. (Photo: Neighbourhood kids Abraham & Diane, or maybe Diana. I can't tell the twins apart. My house to the left across from the mango tree)
It is challenging to interact with people here for all these reasons. My guard is always up. I’m expecting everyone to ask me for something. Anyone you befriend will eventually ask you for help. I don’t blame them. It’s overwhelming because you truly want to help people. My roommate Laura has a huge heart. She’s always stretching her finances thin by helping everyone she knows – taking kids to the beach for lunch and a soda, paying for hospital treatments and finding jobs for people. One older volunteer bought a taxi for a local, and many others have paid for tuition fees for young people.
There are so many opportunities to do small things that would go so far. $50 would be enough to put a roof on the small school next to my house. The teacher is a local volunteer, but will be unable to keep classes going during the rainy season. It would be very easy to set up funds for schools or even individual students, but the infrastructure here is beyond bad. It’s non-existent. You cannot transfer money to accounts easily. Even a tourist cannot get money in Sierra Leone. You have to bring US$. A thriving tourist industry is waiting for a sniff of progress to boom. I’ve gotten money out of ATMs in the middle of the desert in Egypt. No such luck in Freetown.
UPDATE: We’ve got water. The pump is now working. Glorious shower and flushing toilet has returned.
Last week I went to a screening of a Sierra Leone documentary “Wildlife after War” in which Bala and his chimps are featured (He has been in numerous documentaries). After the showing I got to share a couple of beers with the man himself. He’s a cool dude. Originally from Sri Lanka, but hasn’t been back in over 30 years. 
Over the course of a few months 27 of the 31 escapees returned to the sanctuary. Bruno and the other 3 are alive and well somewhere on the peninsula. Bala has made contact with all of them, but said Bruno won’t show his face. I have to remember my good chimp, bad chimp calls, and my machete when I go camping in the peninsula next week!
