Marathon Meetings

Meetings in Africa vs Canada. People sleep during meetings, same as in Canada. Today I was in a committee meeting set up by the minister of Land for legislation reform, when a lady awoke to the sound of her cell phone. She answered it, and began a loud conversation right in the middle of the meeting. I felt like I was in a Saturday Night Live skit. This is pretty standard in these parts. Also standard is an extreme disregard for punctuality. African’s openly call this BMT – Black Man Time. Really. Today’s important meeting was scheduled for 11am. A gathering of important people – Lawyers, Department heads and Directors. We made it just in time for the opening remarks, around 12:00. (Photo: Me. "Buy low, sell high". Freetown Market.)

I have learned to bring food to meetings, because they always morph into marathons, like the reality show Survivor. Very much like meetings back home. Not like home, people thank god a lot and sessions always start with prayers.

However, most shocking is the death rate of young people and its affects at the work place. It’s probably a lot more shocking for me than everyone else here. Yesterday Osman, of our maintenance staff, returned to work after a week of leave. His 1-year-old son died. Children are very susceptible to diseases like malaria, and parents tend not to take sick kids to the hospital until it’s too late. I know a few nurses and doctors in town, and the stories are incredibly shocking, like the high number of amputations due to advance infections – something we’re not used to in the west. (Photo: A female local council candidate register's for one of our capacity building programs. Her son sat with her throughout the 2-day session)

Ticker: The neighbours have expanded. The new baby has been named Laura, after my roommate. … Management picked a fine time to add Admin Manager to my responsibilities. The engine of the office – the secretary – has taken 3 weeks leave and our director has decided to fire a bunch of people. I am the messenger. It’s been almost 2 months since employees have received pay cheques – sponsor cash hasn’t made it to the bank account yet. … There is no gas (to power our stove) in our kitchen. There is no gas in Sierra Leone. The shipment has encountered further delays. Looks like I’m eating out again.

Road to Kenema is Half Paved

Last week I traveled to Kenema (3rd largest town in the country) to oversee the implementation of a capacity building project. It was quite exciting to check out this part of the country.

A 6-hour drive took us over all kinds of terrain. I can tell you that broken paved road is worst than a good dirt road. Sierra Leone has a lot of broken road. Driving at night is very surreal. Eyes shine on the side of the highway reflecting headlights, but these aren’t animals, they’re people. The road is a free-for-all. The dominant driver dictates the flow. Our driver is good, going as fast he could while still maintaining a respectable degree of safety. I am sure that this trip took about 4 years off the life of the Toyota 4-Runner we hired. (Photo: View of Kenema from my "hotel" room. Hotel's name is Makasa Construction. Good service, and I had AC in my room. yes.)

The world is so small here, especially in Kenema. I ran into two friend journalists from Freetown – both Canadians. The development community is small and connected. Workers all seem to congregate at the better restaurants. So we all met at the Capitol for star beer and story telling.

This trip was a reminder to me that NGO is big business here. I must remind myself that my cash-strapped organization is seen as a truckload of money and prosperity when we drive into town. A large percent of the country’s GDP is donations. Thus the NGO sector to Sierra Leone is like silicone valley to the US. We drive nice cars, have offices and educated employees. We get to travel. We have money and power.

With my stipend, I took the field officer Mr. Tailu and Caesar, his assistant out for dinner. They make 200,000 leones ($65) and 100,000 a month respectively – when we have money to pay them! Mr. Tailu’s job is high profile. His predecessor is now running for mayor. We spend 3 hours over the course of 2 days at the radio station being interviewed about our project and taking questions from callers. Needless to say we were small-time celebrities by the time we sat down at the Capitol restaurant. (Photo: Caesar (Left) and Mr Tailu take a break from the workshop. Mr. Tailu reminisced about better times when the community centre was full of life - when kids played in the pool.)

The Most Unlucky Baby in the World

A few people have been asking me about how the “world food crunch” is affecting Sierra Leone. So I’ve gone out on a little investigative reporting mission. Here’s what I’ve got.

There have been no riots or unrest due to food shortages in Sierra Leone, yet, even though the BBC reports that increases in food prices are hitting the hardest in West Africa. Sky rocketing food prices are in the news and on the minds of many here. A bag of rice has gone from 70,000 leones ($23) to 150,000 ($49) in the span of 6 months. Fuel continues to climb, currently at 16,500 ($5.50) a gallon.

The problem is compounded by the monopolized importing business, which is blamed for adding a premium on top of the already inflated prices. Sierra Leone is at the mercy of the world market because they are a net importer, which was not the case 25 years ago when they exported rice, fruit and other foods to neighbouring countries. (Photo: A boy and a pig search for something in their backyard - Kroo Bay)

People tell me that they simply reduce their intake of food, and replace items with less expensive alternatives. But that’s in Freetown. In the villages people are getting desperate. I hear stories of people getting food at work (if there is bread at a meeting) and taking it home to their kids. I am constantly giving change to our support-staff to buy lunch.

But there isn’t as much noise as I would expect. No rioting. No increase in stealing. Why? Is it that Sierra Leone is fresh off a decade of war and determined to keep the peace? It is the poor that would have to rise up, and they have little power to do so. Maybe. I also think that, although Sierra Leone is poor, they are not a starving state. They are poor because of mismanagement, corruption and conflict that destroyed their infrastructure. They have a wealth of riches. Fields are overgrown and fruit rot on the ground because people left their farms during the war. I think in the regions, the people are returning to their fields. They don’t need bags of rice. They need seeds and equipment.

The big problem lies with the refugees - the people who left the fields to save their limbs by hiding in Freetown during the war. They are still here, living in giant shantytowns under bridges and between buildings. Makeshift settlements that are becoming infamous, like Kroo Bay, which is built on a garbage dump, and others that are built on riverbanks, which flood in the rainy season. One western broadcaster is making a documentary called something like “the most unlucky baby in the world” – born in the worst slum, in the poorest country on earth. Sounds like a Disney product. eh!? (Photo: Kroo Bay settlement with Freetown in background)

It’s these people who live in the expensive Freetown with no capacity to grow food. This is where the trouble will come. Stay tuned.

Change of Pace. And Again

Before my 2 weeks of vacation I was busy putting together programs and project proposals. It was a mad stretch of about 3 weeks when we submitted 6 proposals to Europe, the States and Canada. It was my first major task here – to get some cash flow to keep the organization afloat. They were all smallish proposals aimed at getting cash fast. In all, they would equal just over $120,000, which would buy us time to work on bigger more complex projects. I’m looking forward to trying to bring in roughly 3-quarters of a million from the EU and UN for a consortium of national NGOs.

It was painful to deal with the Canadian International Development Agency because they kept hounding us for more details and further explanation. I joked in the office about the a-holes in Canada, but really I was proud that my home country was so thorough and knowledgeable about undertaking projects in Sierra Leone – considering our nearest consulate is in the Ivory Coast. (Photo: "Dr." Joop and Mr J Brown. My partners in crime dine at the UN World Food Program cafe - our favourite meeting spot. We form the "3 white guys" of the organisation. JB cubed hasn't stuck. The 3 J's in our names, and the fact that we all sport some kind of beard. JB-cubed. No?)

The passion of my NGO is extremely high, however the overall business capacity is weak, and often paradoxical. Good governance? The organization must practice what it preaches!! And that’s something that myself and the 2 Euro imports – John the accountant and Joop the Admin manager – are beginning to install here. In the past, they took on projects without costing them properly, getting the organization into financial trouble. While I work on phase 2 of my responsibilities here – redeveloping the marketing strategy and tools – I will also commence building standard processes and practices for the NGO and train staff. We hope to have this place running smoothly by the time we leave.

So I came back from my vacation rested and ready for the next challenge. Good news already came from the UK and Canada awarding the requested grants. 2 for 2, not too shabby. Staff should get paid by next week, after a month and a half of waiting. And Joop, the admin manager, had to return home to tend to his ill daughter. I now have to take on his role as well as my own. It should be fun to run the day-to-day operations. Today? The secretary and receptionist are sick, one vehicle has no brakes, the generator has a dead alternator, there’s no toilet paper, the internet is down and the IT consultant doesn’t have a work contract.

The Canada-funded project begins Monday. That’s quick turnover even for western standards. I will be heading “up-line” (remote region) Sunday to manage the delivery, and monitor and evaluate the project in Kenema – building capacity of marginalized people for local council representation. Sierra Leone will hold the first local elections in over 30 years this summer. It is weird that there is a whole generation of people who don’t understand the government process because they haven’t been a part of it.

Needless to say, it looks like it’ll be another mad dash to my next break in July – home for a visit.

Who’s got gas?: Mel took my SL Bank card with her to Canada, but getting money out of my account didn’t seem to be much of a problem. I didn’t even have to show ID. Seriously. (read my “All Access Pass” blog entry to understand why). … We went through a 2-week stretch of little-to-no power, but its now back to a somewhat normal occurrence again – a few hours every evening, and a good stretch during the weekends. Rumour has it more generators are on the way courtesy World Bank. Freetown is determined to lose the stigma of being the only capital in the world without steady power. … The country feels so small and vulnerable. As if there are a few men and businesses that run the joint. There is a gas shortage (gas tanks to fuel stoves etc) caused by a mix up in paperwork, apparently. Now there are no gas tanks in the city. Everyone is waiting for that one shipment from Europe, from that one provider, all monopolized by the small and cutthroat import/export community. … Nasio’s got numbers 1 to 6 down pat now. I asked him to spell his name on his little portable chalkboard. I think we have some work to do. (Photo: Mary. I think. And Nasio. Not a flattering pic of Nasio. His right hand is fresh off being used as a fork for his Cassava leaf dinner. He's trying not to touch my leg. So thoughtful.)

Watin fo Chop?

This entry is for my parents. They’ve only now stopped asking if I’m eating.

Watin fo chop? What’s for eats? Well well well. My perspective is probably warped, coming from a good-cooking family; my grandmother is from Calabria; I am (was) a pampered young professional – black angus steak after sushi washed down with a couple imported Belgium beers on a random Tuesday was a normal occurrence, and my kitchen in Ottawa was probably worth more than the whole house I live in here, times two. But aside from all that I would be happy to swim in pizza and smoked meat poutine with a chocolate milkshake from the Elgin Street Diner in my hand. I’m easy to please.

My parents worried. Even my colleagues worried that I wouldn’t get my pizza fix. Well you’ll be happy to know that there is pizza here. Just like home, I savour the time I spend with pizza. I get to a pizza once or twice a week. I even bought a bottle of Sweet Thai Chili sauce, which I take with me to Montanas’. Basically you can get all the basics – burgers, fries, chicken wraps, shawarmas, club sandwiches, soups, salads etc. (Photo: Barracuda with fries and shrimp with rice; and a yummy stewy sauce for the rice)

There is a good-sized expat community here, so there is a demand for this kind of food. Unfortunately the community is largely (earmuffs my UK friends) British, so, ya, the tastes are not in line with your typical Canadian, to say it politely! The “fabulous” pizza here is a 2 out of 10 on my scale - but the heat could be getting to my head. From my experience at some of the better hotels here, the cuisine is very middle-of-the-road, and sold as hi-end. There is a large Lebanese community monopolizing the import export business and serving up good hummus and wraps. And the Chinese have some flavour in Freetown.

But enough with the foreign food. The local chop is where the value, freshness and nutrition are found. Innovation, variety and availability are not hallmarks of Sierra Leonean dining. You get rice, maybe couscous, beans, potato leaves, chicken, unidentifiable meat and fish. Most dishes are rice with some sore of stew, which may include fish or unidentifiable meat.

Mangos, bananas and avocados fall from the trees, and maybe the vegetables do too. Maybe that’s why they look so bad at the markets. My stir-fry consists of eggplant and onion. Yum. Not! Not after the 10th time! The tomatoes look worst than the ones on the floor at Price Choppers.

Like most people say, you can find most everything here. It’s true. And now that I have wheels I can peruse a variety of markets in town. But I haven’t found nachos to go with my fresh guacamole yet! (Photo: Fresh oysters from the local village at River No. 2)

The best grub seems to be at the beach bars where you can get fresh lobster, shrimp, snapper and barracuda. And you get the feeling that Freetown is continually expanding. New beach restaurants appear overnight and there is rumour of a new sushi bar coming to town. Opa!

My favourite product of Freetown is the frozen yogurt. Such an anomaly in this oven-of-a-city. You spot the vendors easily. They carry their product in coolers in baby strollers. Each individual small bag is tied by hand. No labels. I was suspect at first, but now I seek these guys out every day!

Motorcycle Diaries

On a Tuesday. Incredibly, all the ducks came in line and the motorbike was delivered in the afternoon. It looks good. It runs. The insurance is there. The plate is registered. We’re in business. The next day was less productive, but successful. I spend almost all day at the Road Transport Authority getting my license.

On Thursday morning Mel and I set out on a trip around the peninsula. The bike was packed. Tarp, mosquito net, clothes, water, sun block… it looked good. We made it to Spur Road, about 2 klms, when the clunker choked on the steep incline. It was 11am, 2 hours after estimated time of departure and the bike was dead. If it died in the hills of the peninsula then it would be a great story. But, at the Lumley Police Station?! Son-of-a-beetch! I was cursing my decision to get this jalopy of a bike. (Photo: Mel watches while Demba and co work on the bike)

But, getting a shiny new bike would have made us a target – because 2 whities on a dirt bike is inconspicuous -, and it wouldn’t bring about certain relationships, like the one that was forming between me and Demba, the bike mechanic. We already had a few small run-ins. He worked on fixing the bike in the first place. It was a dilapidated pile of poop only a week ago, now it’s still a pile, but the chain is oiled and the grips are new. I didn’t trust him then, but now the trust is building. In 15 minutes, he and his assistant arrive from the other side of town on their 1960s Honda 125. “I come, I come”.

The choke was broken, stuck on the on position. The two worked on the side of the road, to get it running, but it would need to go back to the shop for more work. Mel and I followed them into busy downtown. It wasn’t easy to keep the bike running while dodging people and chickens at the same time.

After an hour of reconstructive surgery, we finally left for our adventure. Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination – I keep telling myself! In this case, it was true. Demba is a great contact. He and his assistants genuinely want to help and do good work. They asked for no money for the 2 hours of work except $1.60 for a new plug. And Mel. It was like a 3-ring circus came to Campbell Street. Kids want to touch her skin and men want to buy her from me. Mangos and a chicken won’t cut it. (Photo: Road on way to Waterloo)

Over the course of the next 4 days we explored the peninsula. We cut across the mountains to Waterloo. The roads were pretty rough. My mountain biking skills came in handy. In every village we passed, most everyone stopped to look and wave as the two white people passed through. Mel was loving it. By now she seemed comfortable with the attention and surprised with the friendliness of the Sierra Leoneans.

Until we got to Waterloo. The bike stalled at a busy intersection, and I couldn’t get it started. Within seconds we were swarmed by dozens of teens, who looked like RUF rebels without guns! A few jokes did little to dull their aggressiveness. They argued about how to fix the bike, and some wanted to get on the bike. There was no way I was letting anyone on the bike. After sweating it out for a few minutes, we got the bike running. (Photo: River No 2 Beach)

The ride was amazing. We passed people working in the fields, vultures and many villages on the way to beautiful beaches. We stayed the night at Franco’s’. The food was surprisingly delicious and the room was air-conditioned and super clean. It’ll probably go down as the nicest place I’ll stay at in SL. Go figure, its run by a bunch of Italians – complete with Italian dinner music and arguing in the kitchen.

After a night back in Freetown, we returned to River No 2 to camp for the night. River No 2 is beautiful. And the village does a great job of managing the beach and facilities.

The motorbiking part was a lot of fun. We were stopped by a few kids who erected a makeshift roadblock. They threatened us and demanded money. The young one, maybe 8 years old, was most aggressive. He had war paint on his face. It was cute. We did get pulled over by the real police on Beach Road in Freetown. I was excited to show my documents, but they only wanted to chat. They refused to look at my license. I dropped names of SL police officers I know for good measure. (Photo: Franco's Hotel at Sussex Beach)

RANDOM: Julian was up-country attending a naming ceremony while we were beaching it. He returned with gifts including 2 live chickens. They live with us now. He slaughtered one for dinner last night. Yum. … Vultures pooped on Mel. … We have had little power during the last week. Last night was the first night of power in a week. Maybe the government is running out of money to fuel the generators. … I met a girl from Deep River. Strange. … We went to a wedding celebration last Sunday. It wasn’t until later in the day we learned the bride and groom were not in the country.