Special Announcement.

Dear readers,

It has come to my attention that some of you may have inadvertently got the impression that I am as miserable as sin in my life in Africa.

I want to apologise to all concerned who have taken my facebook entries entitled, “Reasons I hate my job #.......”, literally. Obviously the fact remains that I do have some slight reservations about our (garlic stinking,) cousins from across the English Channel. However I can confirm that only gruesome acts of homicide, never suicide have occupied my thoughts.

I wish to also assure those who were able to detect the ever so subtle and discreet comments on this Blog, indicating slight negativity about the conditions in Africa, that all is in fact OK.

I admit that phrases like “Its all a little bit shit really”, may well give the impression that it is all a little bit shit to the more sensitive among you, but I can confirm that although it is most definitely all a little bit shit, this is not all shit!

In addition it is true that my plea for donations of 20k may have confirmed my desperate desire to escape, and indeed I would still be most grateful to receive the 20k should we manage to fundraise this amount, but mostly because I’m a lazy cow and would like to sit on my arse for a year eating pie.

And finally having been back in Blightly for nearly 3 days now, I think I have demonstrated top class adaptation and emotional stability through the spending over a grand on essentials such as Frizz Ease and blusher brushes. I am clearly functioning just fine and am obviously unaffected by the disparity between the world I left and the one I find myself sitting in now.

So just to smooth any furrowed brows out there, here are some positive statements about my life in Africa:

Have I mentioned that at long last, after searching high and lo, I am finally betrothed??

It is to the immigration officer who has admitted and released me from the country several times now but would only let me out this time round if I agreed for him to be my boyfriend. As I think he was actually being quite serious on the matter, I managed to placate him by agreeing that after he stamped my passport 10 times we would marry. I think I will make a lovely bride…. I must ask his name.

Apart from my fiancée, I enjoy watching (at unnatural) length other men at work:

I also have to admit that being a community worker at heart, I am enjoying the travelling around the country doing visits.

 Even better I am learning new skills along the way, such as this lesson from driver Yayah on ‘how to engage the wheels on a 4x4 vehicle’, to get up this main road in the Eastern Province.

Who’d have thought it eh, these 4x4’s were in fact made for use in Sussex, Leicester, Gloucester & Waterloo but in Sierra Leone NOT maybe England!



The Main Road linking Leicester to Gloucester -4x4 required!



And these are the other things I like:

• Crain Crain (food)
• Cassava (food)
• Potato Leaf (food – yes they cook with the leaf from the potato plant!)
• Plaintain (food)
• Gari (food)
• Jallof (food)
• The men (have I mentioned them??)
• Groundnut soup (food)
• Pega Packs – Brandy (alcohol)
• Pega Packs – Gin (alcohol)
• Pega Packs Whiskey (alcohol)
• Local Guinness (alcohol)

So there you have it. No need to worry at all my dear disciples. My entire essential needs are being met; food, alcohol, love, learning opportunities and most important most of all...... a trip home.

Its great being back!

Heaven & Hell

Much to the horror of every Sierra Leonean and Liberian I meet, I don’t do the god thing.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect that people gain great guidance, solace and fulfilment by having a bond with the great fella, but I’ve never quite been able to buy into the whole thing.

I blame the Methodist church and the Sunday school I was sent to, to get from under my mums feet on a Sunday. I was fine with the colouring in of the bible stories (although not sure that I was quite meant to do it on the actual pages of the New Testament), but the turning point came when I was presented with a candle on my birthday to blow out. WHAT - NO CAKE. Well even at the tender age of 7 I realized I had been conned and that was the end of my relationship with blokes in sandals and with beards (except after 7 vodka’s of course, then I’m not too fussy)

But here in these countries religion is big. In fact biblical style Miracles happen almost daily if you read the posters on the wall inviting you to a 48hr vigil at the national stadium. The lame walk, the dead rise again and the devil is extracted from the possessed. Most meetings workshops and events will open with prayers and generally there is always one or 2 reverends and imams in the audience to lead them.

The nice thing is Christians and Muslims live more than peacefully side by side. With a 60/40 Muslim/Christian ratio, in Salone inter-religion marriages are commonplace and are just a normal and natural part of society and (if the woman has not been made to confirm to her husbands faith), both will reverently allow each other to pray on the respected days. One of my drivers accepts with good humour that on a Sunday he has to come to work with an empty belly as his wife, a devout Christian, prioritises morning worship. Obviously I just see it as a great opportunity for me to get cooking and feed an extra mouth!

The neighbouring country it’s slightly different with a much more inflated Christian majority and from what I have gleaned from my visits there, an almost ferocious approach to worship. I know folk worry about me being in these countries, and given their histories for brutality and vicious wars I can understand. But I do honestly believe my greatest risk is being kidnapped and held hostage in a local church having my head dipped repeatedly in the font till I say the lord prayer.

I was once foolish enough to admit in a car full of staff from both sides of the boarder that I didn’t follow a religion. I may as well have moonied out of the window singing God Save the Queen for the shocked deathly silence response I got.

Well this declaration of mine had clearly been spread around our Monrovia office prior to the visit and lo and behold I was subjected to an increased number of offers to attend church, prayers appeared to take place when never before they had and a bible even appeared on my desk.

And some days, let me tell you, I can almost believe that there is a heaven and hell. And thinking about it could be right here in Africa. What with the most stunning beaches, amazing fresh exotic tropical foods and, lets be frank, the streets full of well fit, buff, topless blokes, this could well be heaven.

And then you go to a security meeting and hear that occasionally, in some of the remotest most distant parts of Africa young children disappear only to be  found dead with body parts removed after being a victim of a ritualistic, tribal killing. This I’m afraid, can only be hell.

Not too sure which version of the Bible or Koran reached those parts of Africa, but I sure as hell don’t remember colouring in that picture.