Exception Report

A positively good day! Despite my general proposal via Facebook for a husband failing to yield a result, I can still say that today has been a jolly good day. And here in brief are the reasons:

1)      We have signed a contract for my new apartment (which is just as well really as an electrical survey of the one I am in has highlighted that it’s a death trap – OK it wasn’t put exactly to me like that, but they looked very sheepish  and couldn’t meet my eye when  I confirmed that I got electric shocks off everything). It is everything I said I didn’t want originally as in isolated from the main street, but as I will be allowed to drive the vehicles soon (chill jacks) then I can cope with the location. AND it’s a good location. AND It is MUCH nicer than where I am now AND the electrics are not trying to kill me– and finally YES, I have a view to the sea from my bedroom veranda (sorry Clare). However despite all this I have stuck to my principals and it is not palatial or very expensive (in comparison to others)  and I will start to move probably next week – yippee!

2)      I have managed to retrieve a package from the post office without it being tampered with; having to open it and endure the contents being scrutinised in front of me by 2 sour looking women or having to exchange any money under or over the table (Romania memories). I think me tring to explain the leap year tradition helped, as the man at the sorting office look horrified as I think he thought I was asking for his hand not my belated valentines gift. He clearly wanted rid of me from his office ASAP.

3)      I was completely touched by my guard when I arrived home and he gave me a bunch of banana’s. Well to be fair they are from my own tree but I think this was his way of paying me back for the food I have left for him, and also giving him water when he was sick.  So obviously I am now rustling him up a full roast dinner with sticky toffee banana pudding…

4)      My driver asked me to speak with his daughter to be a positive role model for her to encourage her to continue with her studies and follow her dreams to be an engineer. OK we all know what a bad idea it is – the only role model I would be good for is the future Mrs Michelin, but still I thought it was nice to be asked. I genuinely don’t think there is any other motive behind it other than a proud father who wants his daughter to succeed in a world where amongst women in particular ,there is something like 80% illiteracy . I was even more touched when he volunteered to be the driver to risk his life helping me learn to drive the 4X4’s (or maybe he’s just trying to salvage his pride from the weekend).

So today I feel a little bit blessed.

Thank you life

XxX

Not quite butlins.....

Well despite the fact there was only 1 pledge to the aid worker respite fund, and that the money never materialised anyway never mind me claiming ‘gift aid’, I have just returned from my weekend retreat.

Now I don’t know what you sat looking at eating breakfast this morning but I think my view may have beaten most of yours!

Table on the beach, bare feet in the warm sand. Almost as nice as sitting there the night before, watching the sunset, eating freshly caught lobster………

So as I said I would, I took myself off on holiday this weekend to Sussex – its right by Kent and err… York!

I had already decided to go here when I noticed an advert for a beach yoga session at the very same place, and given the fact that my only athletic ability is in fact ‘bending’, I thought I would join in. I wasn’t too bad at the yoga I did about 5 years ago and so I thought it an excellent way to do some exercise, make some friends and also continue the theme of my pampering R&R weekend.

Unfortunately my driver had other ideas. My driver decided to take a detour to the beach (which is only 30 mins from my apartment) to avoid some heavy traffic. This detour took 2 hours through the mountains!! Not only that but my driver, who quote “of course” knew the beach – didn’t know the beach. It was amusing to see that African males have the same pride as European males when it comes to winding down the window and asking for directions. I actually felt pity for the man who was forced to do so 3 times - it was almost like watching his manhood shrivelling up and dying in front of me. He visibly withered.

 Needless to say I missed my yoga class and was not feeling very R’d by the time I arrived. However I also think my driver has some bizarre instinct which meets my needs. It was he who chose to take me to the exact supermarket which turned out to be sole stockist of Pepsi max, I just asked him to show me a different shop. And when I eventually arrived yesterday the ‘gentle yoga class’ was in full swing with 9 perfectly tanned, toned 20-something 'babes 'in positions that I don’t think are legal and certainly can’t be good for you. A far cry from the yoga I did those years back which involved mostly middle age women lying down a lot and breathing.

Well, I took one look at them and went straight to the bar and got me a beer – that was no place for the likes of me!!

So the weekend was nice and only spoiled by one thing really – other ex-pats.

Now so far have noticed 2 types of breed. The first lot are quite young – in their mid to late 20’s and have the confident air of the cool kids in town. Most of them work for NGO’s/charity sector.  I get the impression that they were all very bright at school, were actively involved in clubs at Uni (or alpha beta delta whatever’s for the US brigade) and all quite middle class. They appear to play hard and always talking about the next party coming up or nights in the casino or camping on the beach.

 Then there are the other group who have been in the game 20-odd years, either working in NGO’s and more often in diplomat/embassy positions. These people come in family groups, the partner and it seems always 2 kids (don’t ask me why). This group appear to have very high expectations/needs when  living overseas such as requiring housekeepers, cooks,  nanny’s, private education for their children, caretakers, gardeners, cars etc. etc. Someone made a very poignant observation to me about the older group of NGO workers.  He proposed that the standard of living they have in a developing country is way above what they could achieve if they returned with their families to their native country and so maybe this is why they don’t.  Makes you think eh?

I haven’t yet found the group for the untrendy, wobbly, cynical, sceptical, politically ignorant 30-something’s who chose a career change to international development because they like eating foreign food.

And while we’re on my favourite subject I have a confession. I have started feeding people. When I say people, I’m not talking just random people on the street – yet. It started with my guards, and then I had to give drivers a little something, then obviously I couldn’t leave the cleaner out. Oh and I’m now giving her my clothes too.

Now before any of you think that this is some kind of reaction to seeing the extreme poverty (and I did get a reality check when one of the drivers stopped to pick up something from his home this week and I found he lives on the edge of a slum), I don’t think this is the case. Now let’s look at this objectively, how many of you reading this have I not tried to force feed at some point during our acquaintance? Biscuits at work meetings.  5 course dinner parties. Some poor buggers amongst you were not only fed past bursting but you were then sent home with enough food to feed you for a week. I think I may have a disorder. I am certainly my wonderful mothers daughter I know that –my best friends lasting memory of their first visit to our house was the plentiful food offered(forced) into them (I am so going to get in trouble for writing that…err love you Mum?!!!)

 But tell me, at what point will we know it’s got out of control??!!

On that note it’s time for dinner….. Guard, …guard, here guard…

xXxXx

Monkey Business (but they're apes!!)

JUST MONKEYING AROUND

BABY LOOKING VERY CUTE

NOT REALLY A ZOO - THEY HAVE A FULL 4 ACRES OF FOREST TO PLAY IN AND AS RESCUE CHIMPS NOT YET LEARNT TO FEED THEMSELVES (Although they are actually food or 'Bushmeat' to the villagers!! I was with my colleague from Burkina Faso who admitted eating chimp quite regularily as a youth, I didn't notice any salivating though!!)

AT LEAST SOMEONE NOW UNDERSTANDS ME

AS I CLIMBED THIS , I THINK THE MAN AT THE TOP ALSO TOOK ONE LOOK AT ME AND WONDERED WHERE HE WOULD GET THE REPLACEMENT RUNGS FROM!!

BUT THE VIEW WAS WORTH IT - CAN YOU SPOT THE CHIMPS IN THEIR NATURAL HABITAT?? OR ONE OF THEIR NESTS IN THE TREE'S. LOOK A LITTLE CLOSER, THEY'RE THEIR - PROMISE!

And then later on went for a little walk in the in the surrounding forest to Charlotte Water falls and managed to forage for my own brand of Bushmeat

A NICE (if somewhat sweaty) DAY

xXx

H Urgently Needed

Well another week finished and that makes it a full month completed, 1 down a few more to go. And to make it official I have also received my residency status.( Not sure if that’s something to celebrate or not).

Work has been intense this week, in fact its been an absolute whirlwind. To be honest, I am not too sure what has happened. And to be frank not sure that I want to, its Friday night I have a drink in my hand and the peanut butter jar open at my side so I am a happy girl. And obviously the drink I am referring to is Pepsi Max NOT an alcoholic one which no doubt you judgemental people assumed I was drinking!  Sooo damn chuffed to find it in a supermarket.

Obviously mid-week I was devastated when I failed to receive any adoration from my disciples (you lot) in the form of cards/flowers/chocolates etc. What have you all got to say for yourselves eh!!

Village Life

Locally made mobility device for person with Polio

I’ve only really been out the office once this week, to another community consisting of people with polio that was established 20 years ago. Again the welcoming was warm and friendly and I met an amazingly inspirational woman who, despite her own disability, and poverty established an orphanage for disabled children. She and 2 other staff care for 38 children without any state funding at all.

Melrose outsider her orphanage

OK obviously conditions in the home were grim. In some respects worse than the conditions I dealt with in Romania. However the difference here is that the children are accepted into and by the community. Those who can go to the local school, and there is no resentful attitude in the community or by the carers towards them.   Therefore while they live in substandard accommodation with limited food, suitable clothing and sporting terrible malformations, they are in some respects richer than the children I worked with 10 years ago.

And lets me honest – mega cute too ….God I love little black babies, do you think they’d miss one…

However in discussing with the local people I uncovered a serious problem. My first name, Sara, (and when pronounced correctly) means in the local language ‘the sacrifice’ or ‘to sacrifice’. Now given the presence of secret societies in West Africa and a history which has included human sacrifice I think I need to get me a ‘H’ quick and change the pronunciation of my name!!

And while we are on pronunciation I need some lessons in English. Because no one understands me. When the French staff speak very heavily accented, incorrect English, this is fine, but as the only English English speaker, I am indecipherable to most people in the organisation! And this is an English speaking country. But it has become so serious that I have noticed that I have stopped speaking correct sentences and am changing the construction in the hope of being understood. And at the end of the day I am totally exhausted from the concentration required to speak.  Never thought this would be a problem!!! And no, I will not publish any comments about my northern accent etc, so don't even try.....

My plans for this weekend include a visit to a Chimpanzee rescue and rehabilitation centre. I don’t have high hopes, I expect it will resemble a zoo, but it sounds a cool thing to do.

And maybe I will be able to communicate with them with more ease than my colleagues?! And on this final note, I may not have regular internet access over the next week as one of my French Colleagues needs to take my modem…….. or at least I think that’s what we talked about!!

Bye Good, care take you.
xx

Koidu and Back

Well I never thought I would be lost for words but boy, Koidu ‘city’ sure does take the breath away. And I mean literally.

I will never have the literary or photographic skills to do this place justice. But I will have a bash...

So the city is 8 hrs drive from Freetown and I was going there to be part of a weeklong training session delivered to local people and also meet the authorities and introduce myself as the new manager for rehabilitation.  

Glynis was right to comment on my last entry that I had the luxury of travelling in an air-conditioned Jeep. I can confirm that it made little difference to the outcome. Even with the suspension on a specially manufactured vehicle I managed to acquire several large lumps on my noggin from being thrown repetitively against the window.  I can promise you that for 4 of the 8 hour journeys we were not travelling on a road. There was once a road, pre-war, but the things I was hurled over, was not a road. As well as developing an intimate relationship with a pane of glass, I was also rammed up against one of my male colleagues for most of the trip. I have my suspicions that he took one look at me, and knowing the journey ahead, was filled with joy as he assessed my ample hips as a potential nice, soft, buffering pillow and hence he deliberately positioned strategically by my side. Rather too close to my side I hasten to add.

And what I arrived at was something that wouldn’t look out of place in a western movie. The place is so congested by dust, that at certain times you cannot see 100 meters in front of you. This is due to the fact that it is the dry season and the winds are blowing down from the deserts. The other contributing factor is that Koidu is in one of the main diamond mining regions and so the atmosphere is filled by the debris from the blastings . Now I know ‘dust’ has few calories but having ingested so much I have no doubt that I return a stone heavier.

'Koidu Snow'

Main Street through 'city'

Equally strange was the hotel, which Basil Faulty would have been proud of. But even that doesn’t quite do it justice. Strangest of all was the eclectic mix of people in there from groups of international aid workers (Doctors, Rights activists etc.) through to full on gangster and illegal diamond traders. It was utterly surreal. At night there would be a table of do-gooders discussing how to improve gender equality in the country and next to them some dodgy geezers taking delivery of a couple of prostitutes each! I tried not to think too hard about the noises in the next room to me!

The training went well and while I was not officially facilitating I contributed to it most days, and even dusted off  my GCSE Drama and led a few role plays. God knows what I was thinking….. I actually specialised in Stage make-up – I blame the dust.

In addition to earning an Oscar, part of my role was to make a formal speech and  present all 42 participants with their certificates, shake their hand and pose for a photo with them. Delightful. Utterly delightful.

But folks, if all that wasn’t enough I need to tell you about my ‘official visits’. The ones to the authorities were standard. They agree that we should work collaboratively for the sake of the people, shook my hand, and then forgot my name the second I walked out the door as busy greeting the next do-gooder. Memories of Romania came flooding back!

However visiting the beneficiaries themselves was a whole other story. I was taken to meet groups of disabled people living in the villages. On the first visit I was escorted into a small mud hut and sat behind a raised table next to the chief. Person after person then filed in and sat or squatted in the cramped space, while groups of half naked children gathered at the door and the tiny window to stare at me. I think there was a chicken in the hut as well at one point.  And I had to make a speech. And they were all there staring up at me attentively.  And at the end of every sentence they started bloody clapping politely.  It was never right. Jesus, don’t they know I’m from Bolton!!

And the second village was no better. Here I was even more mortified when one woman went and got what was clearly her Sunday best headscarf and used it as a table cloth for me as I was sat behind the requisite formal table. Apparently I am a ‘lady’ – clearly they haven’t read this blog then! The second village was actually a community of people with polio and the while you can’t tell, none of these blacksmiths (who were quite insistent that I took their photo) can walk or use their legs.

Village Blacksmiths

I wish I had taken more photo’s to share with you, but I am still struggling with the feelings associated with doing so.  The villages are just like you imagine deepest darkest Africa to be. The children do have swollen bellies from hunger and ones as young as 5 are walking with containers of water on their head. But the people I have met also have a spirit. And yes the groups I met of course wanted to tell me of their hardship and ask for help. But there was a common theme between both villages. They weren’t begging for money or food or clothing – all they wanted was a means to create a livelihood for themselves, so they can stand independently on their own 2 feet – and given that these are people who had been amputated in the war, victims of polio, leprosy etc and don't have 2 good feet, I can’t help but respect them.

What next I wonder – or maybe I shouldn’t……….

XxXxX

Aid Worker Respite Fund

Well, I have, for the 1^st time in 4 days, electricity. I’m sure would expect me to be full of joy at this, but I have to report that actually I am a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong its not that I actually like the ‘Wee-Willy-Winky’ look (I have discovered that placing a tea light into a coffee cup is an effective way to carry light around without accidentally blowing out the flame), but, you see,  I had planned to go on holiday.

 Let me explain; While I am in one of the poorest countries in the world, there are still oasis’, and I had found a couple of rather splendid beach side hotels with swimming pools and an impressive sea food menu. So I planned to take myself off and treat myself.  As I’ve already shared with some of you, the beaches are simply exquisite!

Sadly though its not to be this weekend, but I have decided that while this is quite an extravagance (they are VERY costly), I do intend every few weeks to have a bit of respite. Care to contribute to the fund??

Not that it is completely hell for me here. The same can’t be said for the majority who go hungry each night, some sleeping close to an open sewer and who don’t expect to live past 43. I haven’t yet brought myself to take any photos of the shanties, as at the moment it feels wrong to capture peoples misery for what feels like no real purpose. But if in any doubt, just watch a back edition of comic relief to get the gist. It's a reality.

 But I accept my reality is different, and  so here are just a few things that make it bearable for me:

·         Sweet Grapefruits the size of footballs

·         Marmite, Cadbury and Pringles –imported from UK not south Africa (thank Christ, remember last years farce!)

·         Another very palatable litre of red wine for ‘deux pounds soixant neuf”

·         An abundance of chick peas and tahini to make the all-important hummus (thanks god for the huge Lebanese community here)

·         The coffee is not polluted with chicory

·         Gin!

OK yes it is all food (alcohol counts as food) – but come on, you all know me, is there any doubt about my first love in life!!! But I am proud to announce that I can now sleep quite comfortably without the Air Con on (good job really considering don’t have electricity most of the time). And I have mostly managed to tame the hair. Well other than at the moment as the mechanic has given our generator an extra bit of oomph, so I’m getting electric shocks off most things (quite pleasurable actually!!)

So living here is a challenge, but no worse than I expected it to be and in the moments I feel sorry for myself its very easy to give myself a reality check – I just need to stick my head out of the compound gates. And realistically the worse thing about 4 days without electricity is that Christiana, the cleaner, hasn’t been able to Iron my clothes and I will have to do it myself!!!

And the question of working here???……… Gee where do I start!!

It’s a completely different world. Today I was at a meeting at the Irish Embassy to give feedback on the Irish Governments White paper for Aid Effectiveness. OK!  If you say so! I just enjoyed the nice biscuits and pulled out my glittery Swarovski pen and pretended to make intelligent notes. In fact I have done that a lot this week.

For 2 days I was in an ‘Annual Partner Review’ evaluating , well I’m not too sure what we were evaluating to be honest, but after presenting one session that was a total flop, I reverted to smiling and the regimented head nod. I then realised that I was actually, in theory the most powerful and influential person in the room as in the person in control of coordinating all the projects we were discussing. So I stopped the smiling bit and wore my serious face!!!

Partner Review ("at long last" my family cry, sorry guys not that type of 'partner'!!)

It’s all a bit mind blowing to be honest!

 And this Sunday I leave to go on a weeklong field visit to the North of the country where we (err, I) run projects. It is only about 170 miles away but because of the roads will take over 8 hours to get there – joy.

I’m not hopeful for electricity, but hey at least I may get a chance to take Wizz out for a test drive!!

On that note……

xxXxx