Already Saying Our Goodbyes?

Two days ago (Friday) marked  the beginning of the countdown of weeks: One week until I leave Kailahun and explore SL, two weeks until I revisit the UK, three weeks until I am home. To call this bittersweet would be to completely understate the contradiction in emotions that I am now experiencing. On the one hand I am thrilled about the prospect of hot showers, clean sheets and my fully equipped kitchen. I can’t wait to see family and friends and catch up with everyone over yummy food and familiar surroundings. I am looking forward to starting my new job and am eager to get back to my studies. But - then there are the farewells. And, despite my best intentions, they seem to have crept up way too soon.

Kailahun is not a love at first sight kind of place. They say that when you enter a new culture that you go through these phases of adaptation where the first one is a honeymoon. Kailahun and I never had our honeymoon. I never quite fell for the work, the people or the surroundings. The experience here is one of a slow take over where the things you once hated become the things that make you laugh, and the things you swore you would never get used to, are the things that you don’t even notice anymore (bread eaten by mouse? Just take the next slice in the bag). Kailahun sneaks into your affections and just when you think you might be making some progress, maybe you have found a middle ground in this battle to settle in, it has been three months and it is time to go. Getting ready to go feels like leaving just when it was all getting started. It feels terribly unfinished- but yet, somehow, just not terrible enough.

A few updates on where things are and where they are going:
• Work: The health budget monitoring that I was working on has not gotten as far as I might have liked. A combination of poor planning, unclear expectations/intentions and the reality of working with governments has meant that I may only be able to contribute a rough and very unfinished first draft of the report. The findings have however been quite interesting and will hopefully serve to shed some light on how and why the delivery of health services is so frustratingly ineffective.
• The chickens: I had intended on dedicating a whole post to my avian friends but never got around to it. Besides, it is such a tragic story I did not want to bring you down. We purchased three birds in the end. The first one turned out to be a male and the two hens (who finally started laying after many weeks of waiting) “disappeared” within one week of each other – likely the victims of someone else’s appetite/stew pot. Our lonely rooster is still hanging around but got into a fight with another coq and now roams around with half his crown hanging off and swarms of flies surrounding him. It is quite the pathetic sight. I suspect that Matt and J. are just waiting for the vegetarian to leave so that can reap at least one reward from the whole ordeal – I am sure he will be tasty but hope that I don’t have to hear about it. Tragic, right?
• The kiddies: The neighbourhood kids (and their family members) are probably one of the Kailahun attributes I will miss the most. As someone who thrives best in environments where I can see the impact of my efforts, being part of our little neighbourhood has been way more satisfying to me than any of the “real” work I have done. I know that giving one child some food or buying shoes for another is not going to “solve the problem” but it is one less hungry child and one more child with shoes. To me, being part of those teeny tiny differences has been an absolute privilege and one that has had a lot of meaning for me. The generosity of our neighbours will also not be forgotten. They have looked out for us, been kind to us and, for people who genuinely have next to nothing, their generosity has completely overwhelmed us.
• Matt: He stays, I go. If his contributions to this blog thus far are any indication, Sierra Leone Living may soon go into hibernation. It is nice to know that when I leave my connection to Kailahun will not be completely severed but I think that is about the only nice thing I can say about leaving him here. Whose idea was this anyway?!

Tears and tragedy aside - what’s next? Well, this Saturday Matt and I head off on a one week adventure to see the sights of Sierra Leone. We go first to the nature sanctuary of Tiwai Island where we will camp among the monkeys, the tropical birds and hopefully not the snakes. Tiwai is home to one of the world’s few populations of pygmy hippos, but they are apparently only very rarely seen, so we are not holding out much hope. After that, it is some relaxing in the second city of Bo, visiting some of the beautiful beaches, a waterfall or two and a sanctuary for chimpanzees. We will end in Freetown from where I go on to England and Matt moves into Phase II.

A report on our travels and lots more photos are sure to follow so stay tuned and wish us luck (sorry no new photos this time)….

Le Weekend...

N. & J. preparing our Salone meal

While the weekdays are defined by routine, weekends in Kailahun also have their rhythm and that rhythm is SLOW. Saturday is actually a quasi-work day in Sierra Leone so we tend to putter around in the morning and then go to work for about 11am where we stay until 2pm. Lately, we have instituted what I hope becomes a regular part of the routine. Our Sierra Leonean colleague N., taking pity on the pumuis and comes to the house to teach us how to cook proper salone food. What I had hoped might actually be a lesson, usually ends up being more “watch N. cook and stay out of her way”, but once in a while we learn a thing or two and we always get to eat the tasty results. The first week was jollof rice with fish stew, then came pumpkin and groundnut stew (we found pumpkin!) and most recently it was homemade ginger beer with the most ubiquitous and beloved of Sierra Leone dishes, jollah bei  (potato leaf and palm oil stew with rice).

Jollah Bei

N. sticks around and does her best to answer all of our thousands of questions about Sierra Leone, Kailahun and her life, and then it is more puttering until the power comes on at seven and we pray that there is a not-too-terrible movie on the telly.     

Sundays are even slower affairs and generally last for about 2½ weeks.  The excitement usually peaks first thing in the morning when I get to do the laundry. I know you think I am being sarcastic but I’m really not. Doing our laundry gives me a genuine activity for about an hour, it contributes to the two of us smelling less bad (I did not say good) and, it gives me a sense of satisfaction to see the clean(ish) clothes hanging on the line. The time I spend doing the laundry is when I am most reminded of where I am and how simple my life has become. I sit on the back step next to the banana tree with my laundry bowl on the ground, cold water and my locally made detergent. My hair in a bandana, I work on the clothes and commune with the ladies of the town while chickens run around my feet. I know it sounds crazy but I promise it really is pretty special.

With laundry done, so is the fun. 10am feels like it should be 8pm and Matt and I become seriously bored. Since we have few books to read, no electricity and no friends to visit, we count time while the children and/or chickens serve as the closest thing to entertainment. It has been a true exercise in “blankness” mixed with the odd moment or two of contemplation. Just think about it. Try to spend an entire day at home with no books, no television, no phone and few people. Do nothing, I mean, really nothing, for even three hours? Most of you are probably thinking "I WISH!!!"  but I promise it really isn't so easy. I dare not try to think about what this says about life in Canada or about my life in Sierra Leone it just is what it is and while I look forward to Sundays in Kailahun, they always leave me feeling ever so slightly desperate.

 C’est tout.