When people learn of what I do they often seem to think that I have some sort of special qualities that would make me give up a comfortable lifestyle and career to live and work in this context. They seem to think that I possess bravery, courage, humanity and other such worthy characteristics. No one appears to have picked up that I may just be one sandwich short of a picnic. Or maybe I am actually just having a humongous strop and throwing my teddy out the pram as I can’t find a decent husband, discarding my android phone and flouncing off exclaiming “well that’s it, I’m off to Africa”!
Well, even I’m not sure what drives me however I know I am no hero and do not wear my underwear on the outside of my clothes, (well except at the weddings and christenings and only if people are stupid enough to let me stand next to the complimentary drinks table).
But I learnt about heroes this week.
Let me introduce you to one of my staff, Sahr. Now Sahr is special. But not in the way I am. When people refer to me as special for some reason the word is positioned between speech marks as in: Jo is “special”. For Sahr I use to do the same, but now it is different.
If he was to describe himself, he would introduce himself as a ‘bush man’. He has no airs and graces and is more comfortable in the deepest, darkest parts of the African landscape than this hotel. This week during a team exercise in Bo city I watched him patiently try and spread butter on his bread with a fork and eat his omelette with a teaspoon, thinking that the waitress had forgot to bring him a proper sized one. Sahr is a project officer, the lowest grade of staff and is the one who goes into the community to implement activities with local people, real grass routes stuff. He informed me this week that one of his strategies is that when he goes into the villages he does not make himself ‘gorgeous’, so that the poorest will relate to him. Apart from this slight misuse of English I have learnt this week that not only is he one of the most intelligent people I know but is true life, fully paid up hero.
You see Sahr will often frustrate people like me. Logistics and organization are not his strong points. We in the developed world seem to rate these qualities highly and mistake them for intelligence. To be honest Sahr has had more that one ex-pat shaking their head in disbelief and the phrase ‘where’s Sahr’ has become a sort of mantra in the office as he simply disappears off distracted by the need to fulfil a priority of his own. He doesn’t quite understanding the work ethic that we foreigners impose. And yet in his own way he is equally as dedicated to his work as I.
I already knew that Sahr could speak 4 languages fluently including English, French, Krio and his native Kono. Apparently he can also understand the basics in, oh ‘just’ 3 others. When you hear this, you start to forgive the slight transgression of a few misplaced words (although I have sister who wouldn’t be so forgiving especially if they are spelt incorrectly too).
Over time, us ‘white men’ have come to discover that Sahr also has a special talent for taking very complex information and both translating and interpreting it in such a way that a person without any education can understand. And I’m talking deep stuff here, life philosophical and conceptual frameworks, and other such bullshit. Pretty impressive stuff.
But not as impressive as his tale of the war.
Sarh comes from the district of Kono far in the east of the country. Diamond (Blood Diamond) region and one of the most fought over area’s during the rebel war. For much of the war the region was in the rebel hands although when Sahrs tale begins his remote village had not yet been captured. When news spread that the Nigerian soldiers who came to aid the government had liberated the city of Koidu
The day after his arrival the heaviest and bloodiest combat broke out as the rebels advanced, atacked, and again took control. Sahr was captured amongst soldiers and other civilians and a great number were incarcerated. A short time after the prisoners were moved to another building in the city and amid the ensuing chaos, Sarh found an opportunity to escape and describes making a sudden, hasty decision and grabbed a young pregnant woman taking her along. They fled to a place of safety and when they looked back, found that the rebels had enclosed all the remaining prisoners in a building and set it ablaze.
Sahr and the woman walked together towards his family’s farm only to meet people fleeing, describing how the rebels had attacked and taken the area and that many people murdered. He made the difficult decision to change direction, away from his family, not knowing if they were alive or dead and follow the displaced people in their journey in search of refuge in Guinea
It was several days trek and soon the pregnant woman lost strength and could no longer walk. Sahr was desperate and again found himself at a cross roads. He too was tired. He believed that he had lost his family and was still recovering from the trauma of being captured and witnessing what could have been his fate. He describes looking at the dishevelled woman sat on the ground, in fact his words were ‘she looked like a monkey’, and very honestly confesses that he just wanted to leave her there and continue on his quest for survival.
But then he suddenly made the heroic decision bent down, picked up the woman and place her on his back. For days he carried the woman and her unborn child, across the difficult terrain, in the unforgiving West African heat, all the way to safety.
They all survived. She gave birth to a son.
Sahrs acts render him a hero, not some white woman who has the audacity to come from a privileged background and criticizes him for his lack of planning ability. Jesus he had enough planning, reasoning and organizational skills to save 3 lives. I think that’s quite sufficient for any man!
All mine have ever done for me is led me to give up job security, a well established career, move me away from the people and life I know and love. All this and I still don’t even have a friggin’ husband!!
So on reflection, all things considered, the argument for me having some form of undiagnosed mental illness is growing ever stronger. And as for me being heroic when I’m just about to spend the equivalent of this mans monthly salary on a long weekend at the beach, well the notion is actually laughable.
xxx
