A day in a life of the beach coconut

Okay, so this is hardly a serious blog entry, but I was walking on the beach yesterday with my camera, playing with the focus and varying the depth of focus, and I found a lonely hollow coconut and felt I should tell the epic (well not so epic) of its dream of going to sea. I’m sure pictures on their own would suffice, but this is more entertaining.

‘Beach Coconut had done its job. It had offered its nutritious, sweet milky water and soft white flesh to tourists lazing by Lumley Beach just that morning. It had been punctured and carved rather mercilessly by the young local seller, but it didn’t mind because it knew that if the tourist forgot that it was wrong to litter on the beach, it might just be lucky enough to get to go to sea! Unfortunately, its owner after consuming its refreshing innards, threw him on the sand far away from the water and simply walked off!’

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‘The water was so close. It could smell its closeness, almost taste its cool salty disposition. But the tide was still out and though it had been kicked a few times by beach runners and strolling lovers over the last few hours it was no closer. Frustrated but determined, Beach coconut waited patiently.’

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‘A couple of hours later, it heard the roar of the waves as it rolled unto the beach, closer than it had ever been. As it receded, it heard the fizzing of the bubbles and it grew excited. The water was coming for him. He would finally get to go to sea.’

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‘Poised for impact, it used all its might to roll the lip of its opening to a most advantageous position of receiving the cool water and rolling toward it. The waves crashed once more and enveloped Beach coconut in a big bubbling whoosh. The push of the water rolled it sideways and upwards, the sand exfoliating its rough exterior.’

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‘Sadly, the force of the wave was not sufficient to pull him out to sea and the disappointed Beach coconut was left soaked on the sand, forced to watch while the water grew more distant.’

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‘Minutes crawled by, the sand warmed and its sandy skin dried. As the sun moved across the sky, Beach coconut’s optimism and excitedness fell. It was so quiet, it could hardly hear the water.’

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‘Suddenly with little warning, a big wave rushed in, offsetting Beach coconut from its depressed position. Its hollow insides were filled with water and gave it the momentum be pulled, finally into the deeper waters. Overcome by the great power of the waves, Beach coconut shouted for joy as it floated to the surface, only to be pushed under by the heavy wall of the falling water and carried further away from the shore. Beach Coconut had finally done it. It was going out to sea.’

And then I went to have dinner at Roy’s Restaurant with Theo!

Hiking (or rather, climbing) up ‘small small’ Sugar Loaf Mountain!

On Saturday, a group of us decided to hike up sugar loaf mountain, one of the many hills that make up the beautiful Peninsular of the ‘Western Area’ region of Sierra Leone. Since my experience of hiking dates well back to a year 9 biology trip to Somerset somewhere on a trip to study fresh-water plankton, ending in a random hike up a hill in the sticky British July summer heat, my first impression was ‘erm… can i really be bothered?’ Also, having spent the last couple of weeks sick, of nausea and dizziness possibly attributed a combination of the lack of iron in my diet and the side effects of the anti-malarials i am currently taking, I wasn’t sure I was fit enough for a 2 hour ascent up a bumpy hill.

Waking up on Saturday morning, with one eye creaking open, when I looked out of the window to see clouds  engorged with an ostensible promise of rain, I mentally composed an apologetic text message to the others to say I was so staying in bed! But like clockwork, my body and mind had drifted into ‘awake-time’ and I knew sleep would not come till it became once more dark. So I got up and got dressed (to the surprise of my housemate, who commented on the fact that I was up and ready to go!)

So we hurried out of the house and got a lift up the hill to the Hill Station St. Mary’s Supermarket (according to them ‘the mother of all supermarkets’!) and waited for the rest of the group. Outside the supermarket were a large group of a mixed school group of local and expat kids in matching logoed white t-shirts, surrounded by adults, obviously there to supervise them on a walk/run of some kind. We noted that it seemed like a competitive sort of outing, since some of the adults had come in running gear, some fashionable, others obviously ready to claim first place at the end of the day, leaving us to wonder whether they were there to support the excited kids or the other way round! Anyway, the rest of our group appeared and we left the group jogging up the winding hilly road (which in my opinion seemed quite unsafe…).

We soon arrived in Regent, where we alighted and with our backpacks (I was teased for taking my longchamp backpack, for looking a bit too ladylike for a hiking trip! <shrug>) and water bottles, began our trek into the terrain of the sugar loaf. We had instructions to follow a trail of red white and blue splodges, marked earlier by kind hikers who had found their way to the top. So armed with this information, we set off, following the pipeline to the entrance point. Within 10 minutes, we were into the green of the forest, climbing and reaching, and hoisting ourselves up to higher ground, and as can be expected on an unguided trip into the unknown, were already shouting back and forth that we could no longer see any of the coloured splodges, and must therefore be off the designated path!

However, being the heroic pioneers we were, we decided to press on and find our own route (i mean all routes upwards lead to the top, right??!!). By the time half an hour had passed, I was completely out of breath, clothes drenched with sweat and the moist of the air, ankles screaming for respite from the twisting, stretching and pushing, and arms scratched and pricked by mother nature’s evergreens. But I was enjoying myself, completely alive!! With over 12 of us hiking to the top, we often had to shout down ‘are-we-all-okay’s’ to make sure no one was left behind. Luckily, no one disappeared or fell backwards down the hill as my mind had naughtily indulged in, pessimistically. Ducking under vines, slipping past animal snares, leaping off large mossy stones, we edged our way higher. Many-a-times I had to slap my leg to get rid of ants crawling up my inner thigh, hoping none of them were champion flies.

NOTE TO READER: CHAMPION FLIES are small two-tone ants, that look innocent enough, but if you accidentally brush them off, they release acidic content into your skin, causing a painful and red track wherever your infected hand touches. It looks as painful as it sounds! A friend mentioned that it will make us all a bit more Buddhist in our regard for tiny creatures, as we are forced to blow them off gently!

We finally made it to a flat clearing, where we all rested and sat down for some snacks and recuperated. But wait, this surely wasn’t the top! We were told there was a visible mark at the top, but besides the fact there was nothing to see apart from a small clearing (i had expected a bronzed image of a sugar loaf, personally!), it had only taken us an hour to get there! Though brave pioneers we were, hacking our own route to the top, there was no way we could have done it in an hour! After minutes of peering at the map and turning it in different directions, enlightenment dawned and one of the team announced that we were not at the summit of Sugar Loaf Mountain as expected, but had in fact climbed the adjacent hill. OOPS! Feeling slightly sheepish, we all agreed to descend and climb the actual mountain. I mean we still had hours of daylight left!

An hour later, following plenty of ‘no, no, not this way, not the path, we need to go back and find another route’, we met up with another group who were to meet us, who had laughably climbed the wrong hill too! Then collectively, we scrambled around searching for the right mountain, temporarily loosing a member of the group in the process. By this juncture, we had forgone the idea of following coloured splodges (It had been a couple of hours since we had spotted one either way!) After minutes of descending, the hikers at the front finally found the splodges and correct path… hurray… and a dynamic few decided to continue to the top. The rest of us cut our losses and decided to save the sweet loaf for another day, deciding instead to pass our next couple of hours with a sumptuous, well-deserved meal at Mamba Point!

So after all that, what did I learn? I learnt that if you want to climb a mountain, you had better make sure you have a guide that knows the way or you WILL get lost, and that short sleeves on sugar loaf is a bad idea! Even still, with a minor rash from poisonous scratches and a slight limp due to a sprained muscle in my foot, I still thoroughly enjoyed myself, and though my next credit card bill won’t be to a climbing course, I would definitely consider doing it again!

Banke xxx

N.B. We named our newly discovered mountain ‘small small’ sugar loaf!

A birthday in the sun! and a great night at Alex’s

I had been a little worried about spending my birthday away from my family and friends, especially on this special occasion of my quarter centenary celebration. But I have to say I genuinely had a great time. See, living in London, November is usually the time of frosty cold weather, and more recently, snowy. So it was nice for a change to be in an environment where I could wake up on the morning of my birthday, put on a bathing suit and go swimming in the sea, without anticipating a painful frostbite!

So this year, Carole has planned a weekend at Hamilton beach, reserving the beach huts at Samso’s (If you’re coming to SL, and would like to spend a few nights on the beach, Samso’s is well worth a try. Great location, affordable prices, good food… okay, I’m starting to sound like an infomercial!).

On Saturday afternoon, courtesy of Sam, we drove to the beach to meet with the weekending party of VSO vols and NGO friends. I had an absolutely amazing time, swimming, lying on the beach, taking pictures, helping to put together a Hobie 16 Catamaran… (don’t get too impressed; knowing squat about boats, my idea of helping was pulling ropes, unfolding the mast, slotting pins in the right place and tilting my head to one side with a wise-ish look on my face, while saying thoughtfully, ‘yes, that looks about right’. At least I now know what a shroud is!)

In the evening, we had a wonderful dinner of skewered barracuda and sweet potato chips and I received a birthday song and a pineapple cake. No, an actual pineapple with a lit candle on top and biscuit pieces crumbled over the top. As someone who is not a massive fan of actual cake, this was a prize and a half! We then ended the night by the campfire. I stayed up until the wee hours, captivated by the soothing impression of the burning flames on my senses.

I woke up on my birthday to the sound of the crashing waves (amazing!) and immediately put on my bathing suit and went for a quick morning swim, followed by breakfast. Coming home on the Sunday, even I had to admit that I had out-swum myself, spending over an hour an a half in the sea… so as soon as I got home, I fell into bed for a quick nap.

Later in the evening, we went to an absolutely amazing restaurant by the beach called Alex’s to eat with a few friends. 

So all together, it was a totally enjoyable birthday, and I really appreciate all of those who celebrated it with me. We all know how I am about birthdays, so thanks for indulging me, even suggesting more fun activities for next year’s 26 tasks. Also, thanks to you all, I have received the most thoughtful, useful and amusing birthday presents this year, one of which being my very own bistro (below) in the kitchen, where we can now add corned beef hash, spaghetti Bolognese and peanuts to the menu…

Banke xxx

And the walls came tumbling down…

There have been a few noticeable changes in Freetown over the past few weeks. There have also been some things which we would have expected to change, but have annoyingly stayed the same! In a way, I feel words won’t do, so I’ll let pictures show tell the story.

What has stayed the same

1. Rainy season turns to dry season… nope, still here… 

See, by the end of September, what we were all expecting was this…	…but instead, what we’ve been having is still a whole load of this…

How annoying right! On that particular day, I had to wade through the mucky water to get to the bank. Not enough antiseptic spray can make that seem ok!

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Before I attempted to catch a taxi from the VSO programme office to go to the bank, I called my housemate, saying, ‘I don’t know, I think I’m going to brave it to the bank.’ to which she replied, ‘no, I think what you mean is, you’re about to stupid it to the bank!’

She was quite right!

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2. Yep, you guessed, there is still a lot of traffic… and yes, there are still a few unpleasant smells you have to endure sitting in a hot poda, and yes we’re still taking the exciting route down the hills of Freetown!

 

What has changed

1. The most dramatic change which all Freetonians can attest to is the widening of Wilkinson Road. Okay so at the moment, its more of reducing the walls to rubble and possibly destroying the livelihoods of shop owners and street sellers (even though, I have this uncanny feeling that the street sellers are quite accustomed to being moved, and so will find a new spot to sell their produce before the diggers move in!).

A couple of weeks ago, this scene was eerily reminiscent of the aftermath of civil unrest, something all too familiar to the history of Sierra Leone. I have to applaud the workers on their efforts however, it has returned to looking like the Peaceful Salone I know! The rubble is being cleared at a speedy rate, workers are ACTUALLY working! and the roads actually looks like they might have a fighting chance of being finished by the given deadline.

See, the plan is to widen the roads in Lumley, and also complete the extension of Wilkinson road from 2 lanes (or 4-5 lanes depending on whether you define it using the road traffic rules or from the lawless Freetonian drivers point of view) to 4 lanes in time for Sierra Leone’s 50th Anniversary of Independence, led by the Chinese railway construction group. The idea is to reduce the traffic and congestion going into town, which is a good thing, since it means a 15 minute journey will no longer take an hour! Also, there is a hopeful possibility that they will put in pavements, meaning we won’t have to fear for our legs or life when walking down the road, which we currently share with cars, trucks, lorries and believe it or not, mangy dogs!

Jimmy the Chimp from the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary says hello!

Well worth a trip if you ever visit Freetown!

Till Next time,

Banke xoxox

A bumpy poda ride and a free magazine topped off with a game of badminton

Okay, this isn’t quite 40 lines, but in my defence, it is interesting and I haven’t blogged in a while!!!

I woke up this morning with a slight headache. Mainly because the traffic is now incredibly bad due to the school kids returning to the new term, so we have to leave at 6.50am in order to get to work before 9. My housemate and I had decided to go in early (so we could get a lift with someone who is kind enough to give us a lift in an air-conditioned 4 by 4 on most days), and have breakfast at the amazing Lebanese owned Crown Bakery on Wilberforce Street. The prospect of eating there gave me the incentive to drag myself out of bed as my alarm bleeped at 6.15am. My housemate also, however had a headache, and our early conversation ended by us both crawling back into bed for an extra hour, since neither of us actually had to be in till 9 and could technically have had an extra hours sleep… which we did! But this meant I would have to sit in traffic in a hot poda for an extra 30 minutes! Aw fo do?

So at quarter to 8, I left cockle bay wearing my gleaming white VSO t-shirt and waited for a poda, ready for all the traffic in the world. When the poda arrived, with the apprentice hanging his head out of the window calling ‘GENTS ROAD, GENTS ROAD’ (Regents Road) in that singsong manner of theirs, it was surprisingly empty. I even had a whole row to myself. But as usual, as we got to Aberdeen Ferry Road, we met the crawling traffic – in my opinion, aided rather than diffused by the traffic police! We sat in traffic for about 15 minutes; luckily I was sitting next to one of the wide windows, so with the extra space, there was a little breeze blowing through. I had also gotten a little engrossed in the book ‘Green Oranges on Lion Mountain’ by Emily Joy, a VSO volunteer writing about her experience in pre war Sierra Leone. I had just gotten to the part where she had to be evacuated from Serabu hospital, and didn’t notice when the poda turned down a little side road, down into the depths of hilly Freetown’s inner roads.

Now podas are public transportation like no other. Instead of having a fixed route from point A to B, the journey from the start to the finish point is dependent upon traffic and where passengers wish to alight. So because there is always traffic on the stretch of Wilkinson road, podas taken routes off the beaten paths. So there we went, crashing down the hill, lower and lower over the extremely rocky road (obviously not supposed to be a poda/car/anything-with-wheels route). While meandering down the tight space, with a slight fog still hanging over the city, the poda halted harshly as the engine died outside an open shop, to which the men sitting outside it shouted, ‘driva, you no fo stop na ya!’ meaning the poda was not allowed to stop there. Luckily, after a couple attempts, the driver managed to kick start the engine and the poda roared on past the jeers of the local townsmen.

So I managed to make it into work in good time, and dived straight in. I was working on a proposal to invite a national telecommunications company to advertise in our new information handbook and newsletter – a new initiative to raise money for the Nurses Association. I soon finished the rationale, and needed to figure out the budget. Not knowing what the going rates were like for advertisement spaces in Sierra Leone, I decided to embark upon my first field research and visit the head offices of a few newspapers – as calling the numbers they gave online resulted in two ‘out of coverage’ replies and a brief chat with a guy all the way out in Kono, who exclaimed, ‘ sorry oh, i no get wetin you dey talk. You get fo speak krio duya’. So I prepared a price list inquiry sheet and walked down to Awoko newspaper at Percival Street, a daily Freetown paper, and got the rates info. Now I needed prices for a monthly spread, so I walked all the way to Rawden Street to Sierra Eye Magazine. On my way, I stopped at the bank – which was pretty full at 3.10pm, besides the good looking cashier was not there, so i didn’t wait – walked past yet another funeral gathering outside a church (there is one almost everyday), and turned at the massive orange AFRICELL building.

The internet site said 25 Rawden Street, so I walked up from 24. Then I got to no. 25, but it wasn’t Sierra Eye like I expected, just a shoe shop. So I walked on and to my surprise, the next 5 stores all had 25 Rawden Street on each of them. I must have looked very confused, as a group of illegal money changers called me over and asked me what I was looking for. I explained to them and they all seemed to think I wanted Sierra travel, so for for the next few minutes, a very kind though misguided man led me around the big building, with dark corridors asking everyone where ‘Sierra Travel’ was, to which I had to keep repeating, ‘I’m sorry, no I actually mean Sierra Eye magazine!’ In the end, I reached the sparsely decorated office manned by a lady who introduced me to the person responsible for advertisements. I had a talk with him and had a look at the prices. On my departure, he even gave me a free copy of the current magazine. Upon arriving home, and sitting down to read it, I realised I had actually been conversing with the magazine’s editor!

After that, I decided I had done a full day’s work and decided to go home. the poda ride was very uneventful and almost traffic free. I reached home at 4.11 and since my housemates were not going to be home for a while, I decided I was going to have a quiet evening. I ate an apple, brought the washing in, had a little nap and even tidied up a little. When I glanced at the clock, I couldn't believe only 35 minutes had lapsed since I got home. So much for enjoying a quiet evening, I was bored! Therefore I was elated when I got a call inviting me to play badminton at IMATT, which is at the military quarters up past hill station. I had a quick shower and jumped into a taxi to Congo cross. We drove up the hill, the climate becoming noticeably cooler and played a nice game of badminton with friends followed by a nice meal at Montana Garden (there’s actually no garden, and I’m still a bit perplexed by the picture of the non-Salonean mountain on the front cover of their menu!) afterwards. I even managed to get a bruised and slightly bleeding knee as a result from a skilful (probably not) and brave (again probably not) lunge for the shuttlecock, which I was quite proud of since it means I’m actually getting better at a sport where balls fly in my direction. That’s got to be worth a little mark on the knee!!

Banke xxx

PS: Don’t worry about my bruise… I washed it out vigorously… and painfully with mentholated spirit. Urgh!

A cacophony of sounds

I had always wondered at the true meaning of these words. One imagines horns in a traffic jam, tens of people talking simultaneously with music in the background, while pots and pans clang away in a kitchen or birds twittering close by as an automatic roadside drill and police sirens smash the tranquil atmosphere, gives an apt description of the phrase. Well I have a new and far more fitting description with just two letters.

PZ!

Encompassing a group of streets in the middle of Eastern Freetown, PZ offers residents a shopping experience of a lifetime. Imagine all the scenarios above, however adding about two thousand more people packed unto fairly narrow roads, hundreds of street side stalls selling anything known to man, megaphones blaring out ‘buy my produce’ messages, drivers with their palms placed resolutely on their horns while trying to literally squeeze past people pouring down the streets multidirectionally (if that’s even a word!), street sellers fighting for your attention to sell you things you’re sure you don’t need…

In short, it is an overwhelming event to go through. 

a completely unrelated but lovely serene picture of a bird I photographed

What’s that on my slipper? (One of the best yet most awkward romantic gestures!)

Banke: ‘I can’t believe he wrote on my shoe…’

Freya: ‘He wanted to find a route directly to your sole!’

Cockle Bay house had been having some electrical and general functional problems lately; warped doors that scrape the floor making scratching noises, scaring one into wondering what might happen if the door jammed and the handle came off in ones hands while one was still inside, electrical socket sending a shock through poor subject when trying to turn on the fan, and meshes with bite holes from not so tiny, furry beings… So of course, we got people in to fix them!

The carpenter came round and meshed our drying room - which he is yet to finish, and ‘fixed’ the doors, so they don’t scratch the floors anymore. I say ‘fixed’ because our definition and the carpenters I think, are apparently quite different. Not to be unkind about his ‘skills’, but he managed to fix my door and break it at the same time. True, it no longer scrapes the floor, but somehow, he has managed to unhinge it in such a way that it no longer closes, or worse locks! Not really my definition of fixed!

But anyway, that’s not the story today!

So the electricians came round to fix the sockets and light fixtures. There were FOUR of them! ‘The joke, how many electricians do you need to fix a socket?’ came to mind.’ They got right to work and Freya and I, carried on with ours.

Bear in mind that 2 days earlier, when the electricians had come to have a assess the electrical socket, one of the men had asked me to be his friend…

As I sat in my room doing my work, the electricians stood on my table, fixing the wires that connected my room with the next. Throughout this process, I happily typed away, listening to my i-pod on speakers. One of the electricians even (surprisingly!) sang along to Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights! About half an hour later they were done, and were packing up. I walked into the living room, and was stooped by the table, when the same guy from 2 days earlier came in and said to me, ‘I left you a note on your slipper!’ I said ‘okay,’ awkwardly, and continued with my task.

After they had left, Freya and I entered my room to find, beside my bed a note – as promised – written directly ON my slipper, with my pen! It said:

‘U are 2 nice. I really need you 4 friend. This is my line… (which cannot be disclosed for obvious reasons)’

Needless to say, I was speechless! It was actually a really nice, grand romantic gesture, akin to an alternate rendition of Cinderella, or perhaps that scene in the movie Wicker Park where Josh Hartnett is utterly besotted and writes a note on Diane Kruger’s shoe box! And, had there been mutual affection, it would have been quite sweet. But having seen him only once and definitely not with the mind to fall in love with him, this was rather funny.

But it was a sweet gesture, and as Samson, our other housemate said, it means he saw something good in me. And that, I can neither laugh at or mock, so this will go down as another one of my strange, but characteristic experiences in Sierra Leone that we’ll all reminisce over for years to come!!

Bankexx

What, do I have 'social butterfly' stamped on my forehead or something?

Exasperated yesterday, this was part of the message I texted to one of my housemates yesterday. I was having a particularly annoying day, caused by something I had thought I would always enjoy.

You see, before we came out to Sierra Leone, we attended training, which was supposed to prepare us for change. One of the things we discussed was the Emotion cycle*. In a way, I thought I was doing really well and was not going through the stages conventionally, actually, I wasn't even really going through any of the stages. Forget 'Storming before Norming', I was settled and ready to take on the world. However, it only took a 2 minute walk up Fort Street in the rain, past a hairdressers before I realised that even I, the Great Banke, was certainly not above the emotional cycle pitched at the 'Skills for working in development' course.

The thing is, I have wondering, smiling eyes. When I walk down the street, I make eye contact with people and smile until I walk past. I even say hello when I'm in a particularly good mood. I also have that thing where I always manage to catch the eye of the street sellers and then regret it because I realised I've smiled and given them the impression that I want to buy whatever it is they are selling (which is usually not the case!), then when they come over I have to smile sheepishly and say 'no tenke!'

So I do this when I walk down Fort Street. I see loads of people between HFaC and SLNA - where I work - and because of the culture here, people are mega friendly and genuinely want to talk to you. In a strange way, they all seem to know I’m not a local. I don't know what it is... well once, this guy said he knew I wasn’t from around here because I walked quickly like an 'English man'!

 

So every day, I walk to work and people say hi and shake my hand and its fun. I even made friends with a girl at the local hairdressers who sometimes walks me to HfaC at the end of the day. But the glow began to ebb as I started to tire of saying hello constantly and smiling all the time.

You know, if you're from London, and ‘travel’ is usually personal time for thinking, i-poding and ignoring people. As friendly as I am, even I start to tire when I have to stop every five seconds with a greeting! See, I'm used to saying hello to the people I’m friends with and am equally polite but not over-friendly with the rest. However, I made a mistake of hurrying past the hairdressers in the rain, not stopping to wave because I was late and I didn’t see my hairdressing friend. 2 seconds later, a lady I don't know came out, shouted my name and shouted crossly, 'Banke, you have to say HELLO to us O!' So I’m there thinking 'what? I don't even know you', but apparently this matters not. Furthermore, later on (when I sent the text mentioned at the beginning) a man walked past me mumbling undecipherable words. A few seconds later, he returns and addresses me angrily saying in Krio 'I said hello to you, why didn't you reply?' Shocked I said 'oh, sorry, didn’t hear it, hello'. He then said okay and walked off! And there are more stories! Must I say hello to everybody, all the time?

I GUESS I MUST HAVE ONE OF THOSE 'APPROACH ME' FACES... I guess this is mostly a good thing... Well I guess I'll really mean that in 2 stages time!!!

Bankexx

Footnote

*The Emotion Cycle - Stage 1 is total euphoria, complete amusement to everything new. You love this and could do it forever! Stage 2, annoyance sets in. Everything you thought was fun becomes a nightmare, and you try to imagine the easiest way to find a cosy sofa in front of a romantic movie, with a tub of haagendaaz, completely oblivious to the current situation. As you can tell, my version is also called ESCAPISM or DENIAL. Stage 3 is the depressed 'Why Me' stage, where you moan and 'well at least I'm alive' is the most positive you're willing to get. Stage 4 is the accepting stage, you realise haagendaaz and Will Smith are unnecessary (well...) and you could just enjoy where you are, sit on the beach and watch the beautiful sunset, and it really is a great experience! Okay, I've embellished and exaggerated a little!

Ten things i like about you!

There are 10 things I really like about Sierra Leone. Insanely interesting, but possibly more than 40 lines. You have been warned!

1. The Poda-podas – This is public transport at its most eccentric! Between the red and blue strobe lighting, amazing surround sound music system, rear view mirror substituted for an LCD screen playing music videos, and apprentice hanging out of the side door shouting undecipherable destinations, you’re not guaranteed a safe ride home, but you’ll sure have fun getting there!
2. The beaches – Sierra Leone is just started to get noticed as a great location for tourism and rightly so. The beaches are amazing. When the weather is great and there’s fuel in your tank (personal car or chartered taxi), Laka, Lumley, no 2, etc… beaches are the best places to be.
3. The currency – My, do I feel like a millionaire! With 6,000 Leones to a pound, every payday (well, stipend day) feels like a lottery payout. The only downside is that it goes as quickly as it comes since Freetown is a rather expensive place to live.
4. The Thunder and Lightening – This hasn’t happened for a while, but when the storms begin, you find yourself somewhat terrified, yet transfixed by the angry streaks and flashing moments in the sky followed by a rumbling so prolonged and deep, you feel someone has actually been offended.
5. The Cotton Tree - At the historical heart of Sierra Leone and at  virtually the centre of everything accessible in Freetown, the cotton tree reminds me that if a tree can withstand over 200 years of weather like it has, its people can do so much more.  
6. The Mountains – The hills which can be seen from anywhere in Freetown are absolutely amazing! That’s why its called Sierra Leone!
7. The Palm Trees – Despite the felling of our beloved garden palm tree in the storm last month, I absolutely love them. In so many shapes and sizes, they beautify the landscape, especially on the journey up-country!
8. The other Species – Its amazing how many dogs share this city with humans, who appear so used to their presence, they seem not to notice them anymore. There are dogs virtually everywhere. I counted 25 on Wilkinson road, and that was just one side of it! Okay, well I'm not entirely sure this category should be on the list, but I love one of the dogs we have in our compound called Bingo. Just look at him!
9.  Names of Places – Of all the countries I’ve been, I have never so much enjoyed calling the names of places there. From Siaka Steven Street, to Cockle Bay, to Tonkolili, to Magburaka, to Tacugama, to Lightfoot Boston, you are never short of cool, sweet sounding places to describe!
10. The Youyi Building – Another great phrase everyone loves to say, the white, tall modern looking building houses the Ministry of Health and Sanitation – as well as other ministries; the Chinese built structure project what a more modern Freetown might look like.

Till Again…. Bankexx

 the mountains…

Excuse me, are you Allah?

I had one of the most bizarre and surreal experiences today when I got on the poda-poda, on my way home. You see it’s a little more difficult to get a poda going to Aberdeen from Fort Street after work, because a larger percentage of the podas that come past the Circular road stop seem to go to Lumley (another part of town). So Freya and I were happy when we finally heard the ‘apprentice (poda conductor)’ shouting ‘abadaba-daba-daba’ – this means Aberdeen in apprentice.

So anyway, we got unto the poda quickly – glad to be out of the looming clouds and impending rain – into an unusually empty poda, and we sit down. As we sit, another man boards and takes a seat on the row behind us. The poda starts to move when the man in the row behind taps me on my shoulder and asks,

‘Excuse me, are you Allah?’

Obviously, I’m reasonably perplexed by this question and I turn round to face him, repeating bemusedly, ‘Am I Allah?’ Here sits a well dressed man with a red jacket over an olive green shirt and a smart umbrella, tucked in his hand, with spectacles on (and as Freya rightly noted, looking slightly out of place in the poda), asking me possibly the most ludicrous question ever!

The man looks a little frustrated and repeats, ‘Are you Anna, Anna?’, and it all suddenly clicks into place; he’s asking me if I’m Anna!

We have a bit of a giggle and I assure him that no, I am not Anna, to which he exclaims ‘oh, I thought you were Anna’,  turns to the apprentice and says, ‘Apprentice, I’m getting off, she’s not Anna’, and then the poda stops – after having driven to the end of Circular road – and Mr Red Jacket hops off and simply walks away.

Freya and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. What on earth? He had been so determined; one would assume this Anna was some long lost love, but again as Freya rightly pointed out, he couldn’t have known Anna that well, if he was asking the question ‘Are you Anna?’! Maybe he’d seen a picture on  facebook and I happened to fit a vague description of this ‘Anna’ character… who knows!

At least I don’t have to worry that people are asking if I am the Muslim deity!

So if there are any Freetowners reading this post and were curious as to why those two English girls were laughing their heads off at the back of the poda, now you know.

Till my next Tale!

Banke xx