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Last week I went to the big market in Freetown. This is where people go for souvenirs and maybe a new door for their house. White people get accosted by merchants trying to sell their wares. After 10 minutes or so the attention drains you. But I’ve done this several times now, and I feel like a pro. I know some of the market people by name and I’ve been here long enough to know what is for sale and the reasonable price. Now I feel like I’m visiting friends.
Although Mohammed has the stuff I want – cool regional tribal masks, and he can explain to me what they all mean -, I try to spend my money on the market women. My organization concentrates great effort to increase the power of marginalized Sierra Leoneans – most specifically women. Economic empowerment is a key element in the battle for gender equality and overall development of the country. And it is so ironic that I see the women doing all the work – working at the food markets; carrying stacks of wood, coal or water; cooking; cleaning; doing the laundry, all with a baby wrapped to her back.
Last time I was here I purchased some stuff from this lady (pictured), and I promised to come back to buy from her and her lady friend. They don’t have the selection to match their male counterparts. Looks to me like most of their merchandise was found or self-made, which is really cool. Although the big-shot guys have giant Salone masks and carvings, they also offer bead necklaces from china and trinkets from outside the country. There’s nothing worst than coming home from Africa with a souvenir from China. To the women, I try to convey that “made in Salone” is what people want, pointing to her beautiful clothes and hand made necklaces with a big smile, and turning up my nose to her neighbour’s beaded necklaces. The same one’s you can get on Yonge Street in Toronto.
Looking at her items, she points me to small husks, turtle shells and monkey bones. I explain to her that I cannot take these items back home because of Canadian law. But I find them interesting. And I test her knowledge about national law (call it a unofficial survey) by asking her if she has chimpanzee bones. “No, hunting chimpanzees is against the law”. Nice. I will report back to Bala.
I ask if I can take her picture (see my blog entry “SNAP!” explaining why you should ask people if you can take their picture, and tell them what you will use it for) holding the monkey bones because I want to show my friends back home. She is happy to oblige, and we move on to things I can take home.
The national football team, the Sierra Leone Stars, was about to play its first game in the newly renovated (painted) stadium. There was a buzz in the city the morning of the match. Traffic was jammed. Poda-podas were bouncing around the city with fans spilling out the sides. There were massive queues at police stations where tickets were being sold.
I had visions of taking 6-year-old Nasio to the game, but people advised against it. Advice ranged from “don’t bring a camera” to “don’t go”, and “definitely don’t take a small boy with you!”
Government messages on the radio asked for peace and order, and warned that the game would be cancelled if crowds got out of hand. People were urged to show the rest of the world that Sierra Leone can hold international matches without problems.
I arrived at the stadium to see a giant, single-file line-up, snaking from the lone open gate to the street. No one was out of place. One behind the other. Few police. No barriers to manage the line. No shouting. No pushing. Just one huge, single-file line-up. It was quite the sight. There is more disorder in a grocery store queue back home.
At the gate (We jumped the queue. The crowd was so docile), police ushered us in. There was a bit of pushing and yelling at the choke point. My camera was strapped to my neck, two fold. But all this made the excitement.
It was a fabulous experience. The stadium is beautiful. And the Sierra Leoneans are good fans. The crowd was not dissimilar to what you’d get at an OHL hockey game. Loud people. People falling over. Noise makers. Yelling at players. The whole sports package. Except for a few differences. The other team’s fans are separated from everyone else by a large fence with barbwire. (Sens fans wish they’d do the same for Leaf fans at the Scotia Bank Place). I didn’t see washrooms. No booze allowed. And, did I mention that the Nigerian fans were separated by a large fence with barbwire?
I was incredibly impressed with the order of the event and the peacefulness of the fans. Especially when Nigeria scored with 5 mins left in the game to win. Their fans erupted. Even I wanted to jump the fence and fight the Nigerians! Or at least throw my Pringles tube at them. I hate to say it; because I love to sit in the Molson section at the Bell Centre with a large Creemore 
while watching the Habs, I am sure a drunken audience at this game would have spelled trouble. But I would have loved to have a cold Creemore or two during that game. :-)
We walked home. Everyone was disappointed with the loss. Sierra Leoneans hate being last at everything. But, when the team bus passed us on the crowded road, everyone stopped to clap and cheer. A beautiful and telling gesture.
The Stars play South Africa next week. Maybe I’ll take Nasio.
One of the first Krio words you learn in Sierra Leone is “snap”. As in “a wan fo snap yu”. Can I take your picture? This is easier said than done.
On boxing day, against all my principles, me, my brother and my dad woke up at 6am to go stand in line at Future Shop for the chance to snag one of the 15 Canon Digital Rebel XL SLR Cameras on sale for a stupid price. A real bargain.
I was well equipped to take all kinds of pictures in Africa. The SLR camera is complemented with a 250 zoom lens with image-stabilizer and glare protection. I also have a pocket canon for those unexpected opportunities to catch a good shot. Needless to say I love taking photos, and was very excited to capture Africa. (Photo: Me working Jimmy the chimp at the Tacugama Sanctuary)
Well. The SLR stayed in its bag for a good month or so before capturing any light. And the baby canon has missed many great photo ops for being at home under my pillow. (I try to foil would-be thieves by storing my valuables in my dirty laundry and under my pillow)
Why you ask? In the beginning I just didn’t want to stick out more than I already did by walking around taking pictures of things and people. This is not Disney land or Manhattan. I wanted to blend in as much as possible and not look like a tourist.
But, the deeper reason is this: Sierra Leone is a poor country. Taking photos of poor has a distasteful element unless you are a journalist, a surveyor or scientist. And the people know it. Women don’t want to be photographed at their fruit stands in their work clothes no matter how beautiful I think the scene. Men will question why you are taking pictures of a street lined with garbage and rusted out cars. And so they should. They understand the equation. They feel that the white man is walking through a zoo and they are the attraction. (Photo: Fatama)
Now that I’ve been here for a while, I feel much more comfortable taking photographs. But I am very conscience of the relationship between the photographer and the subject. It is difficult to get “the” photo. In Kroo Bay – notorious slum of Freetown –, a place I really would like to capture for friends and family back home, I only felt comfortable to take the camera out once. I got quite a bit of grief from residents passing by. I respected them and put away the camera. Unfortunately, the two shots I did get do not capture the incredible slum built on a garbage dump – with kids and pigs playing in the river and women carrying coal and wood stacked two metres high on their heads.
Kids don’t have this concept in their heads yet. This is all normal to them. This is why I have tons of pictures of kids. And beaches of course. Looking at my photo album, one might think that Sierra Leone is all beach and full of kids. Hahaha. I am on a mission to get a more representative album, while doing my best to respect Sierra Leoneans and their home.
Some random photos from my first few months in Salone...
[Julian prepares dinner] 
[Tacugama Sanctuary worker carries baby chimp] 
[Tacugama: Chimp reaches under fence to touch keeper's hand]
[Lakka: School kids dress up for special event]
[Kenema: Child hangs out for a 2-day workshop with his mother]
[One of the 2 ferries servicing Lungi airport. The better one]
[Freetown: Krio house with tailor shop]
[Vultures]
[Pulled over by the police]
[Diana or Diane, one of the twins tries out my helmet]
Last time I was here I purchased some stuff from this lady (pictured), and I promised to come back to buy from her and her lady friend. They don’t have the selection to match their male counterparts. Looks to me like most of their merchandise was found or self-made, which is really cool. Although the big-shot guys have giant Salone masks and carvings, they also offer bead necklaces from china and trinkets from outside the country. There’s nothing worst than coming home from Africa with a souvenir from China. To the women, I try to convey that “made in Salone” is what people want, pointing to her beautiful clothes and hand made necklaces with a big smile, and turning up my nose to her neighbour’s beaded necklaces. The same one’s you can get on Yonge Street in Toronto.
