What aspect shall I take first? Phones: as may know, there are no landlines in this country. We do have telegraph poles but no lines between them as they were cut down during the rebel war (ended 2002). So we rely on mobile phones and thank heaven for them. But coverage is patchy so people often have up to 4 handsets on the different networks and, as far as I can work out, they only have pay as you go, not contracts. Well, that would make no sense because there is no postal service (see below) so they couldn't send out bills and I suspect the banking system is not very sophisticated so direct debits and suchlike may be unknown for all I know. Anyway, most people don't have a bank account. Most people have no money. I am on Zain network as I was given their sim by my organisation when I arrived here. I phoned my daughter last week as it was her birthday and I ran out of credit. When I tried to buy more, there was none! Nowhere in this town could you buy Zain credit for several days. So I was incomunicado for almost a week. Don't forget: no landlines.
Internet: we do have modem sticks (or dongles perhaps you call them) but they are very expensive and I discovered they do not work with the operating system I have on my laptop (Linux). There are only 2 places I know of where they have internet facilities - I am sitting in one of them now - and sometimes the server is down. One of them - the other one - is a bike ride away, so you pay for a taxi up there, discover you can't use the internet and have to have a taxi back again. This can happen time after time. Why not phone them first? Because there is no phone! There are also a few dodgy looking places that say 'internet cafe' (believe me, 'cafe' would not come into it) but they usually have unbelievably loud football on and somehow I don't think a respectable lady would want to be seen in them.
Postal service: none. We do have a post office, a lovely old colonial type building and they do have a post office box system, which I may investigate, as it would be better to send post there instead of via my organisation. But I would have to go to collect anything, rather like if the postman in the UK can't deliver your parcel and you have to go and get it. But if you don't know something is coming for you (uncertain phones and email access, don't forget) you would leave things there for ever. I got 3 letters early this month, unfortunately from Revenue and Customs, which had been posted in November, and one Christmas card was hand delivered by my organisation when they visited on the final Saturday in January. It was postmarked 2nd December. Yes, I know that happens at home, too.
I will include photos here as they are a form of communication and I had hoped very much to post some on this blog. I still have hopes, in fact, but they are fading. Most internet access is very slow and the only time I have managed to upload any photos it took quite a long time and I regretted not choosing the pictures a bit more carefully. I had imagined I could upload lots of them and could not. When I tried with the modem stick on a friend's laptop, we aborted mission after 40 minutes trying to upload 2 pictures. Also, they do not believe in viruses here, or they have no virus protection anyway. So I am worried if I put my memory card from my camera into one of their computers it will stuff up my lovely digital camera. So those are my excuses.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
Friday, 29 January 2010
Work 2
So back to work. I have not written about that for some time so it's about time I picked it up again.
Do I have a typical day at work? Probably not, but I will try to describe one.
I get up about 7 and walk to work, about 10 minutes away, past the local people washing at the public tap and the (semi) naked children, past the fish market and into the main road where I dodge the traffic and all the kids shouting "oporto" (white person) at me. I sometimes give them a regal wave. When I get to work I am usually very hot and sit in the office for about 15 minutes drinking water. We buy packets of it; there is no safe drinking water in the hospital. There is not really any water at all. I therefore want to avoid using the loo there. Then I steel myself and go to the maternity ward where I do a bed round and make notes about the patients. Some of the staff - or most of them - have no idea why I want to write notes about the patients and cannot understand why I find it helpful to know about the patients. Hmm. We have only had one maternal death this month; she had an antepartum haemorrhage, they wanted 3 units of blood to transfuse but they could only get one and she bled again and so died. They get the blood from relatives. We have now got a system for notifying maternal deaths and this is just starting up now. The 2005 figures were 2100:100,000 maternities against a UK figure of 9:100,000. I have been trying to organise the maternity ward but to no avail. I tried to get them doing a proper handover and write notes about the patients but it did not work out. Literacy is a problem here and I found they were unable to pick out the relevant details, so that foundered. I tried to get a system of named staff caring for named patients, which seems so obvious to me, but this proved impossible. I have also tried to instigate daily baby checks, again this has not worked out. The babies do not get checked over when they are born nor on a daily basis, as they would at home. I tried this back in November and it failed then. Someone said that they don't bother about babies here because so many die before they are 5 but maybe, just maybe, some of them would survive if anyone did bother about them. Silly idea of mine. Most of our babies are at the lower end of the normal birthweight range, most likely because of maternal anaemia. This is due to malnutrition and/or malaria. Less than 2.5kg is low birthweight and we have lots about 2.6 or so and we have had some about 1.7kg. Needless to say there is no neonatal care unit. How could there be? No electricity! So, after a while of reading about the drugs and care not given, I go back to the office and write stuff.
In order to feel I am achieving something, I have started some teaching sessions for anyone who is interested. This is actually what I am supposed to be doing: it is called 'capacity building'. They are about maternity/midwifery but open to anyone as the staff rotate around the hospital in 6 month batches. So twice on Mondays I hope some people will show up and they have so far. I did last Monday's session on pre-eclampsia and eclampsia and had 8 to the first session at 11am and 5 to the 3pm show, so not too bad. Only 2 from maternity though. Next Monday's sessions willl be on antepartum haemorrhage. Apt, I think.
The other things is that the new Midwifery school opened here a couple of weeks ago with a lot of razzmatazz. I am also working there, teaching anatomy and physiology which is great because I have to learn it before I can teach it! I did learn it once for exams but really have forgotten so much, but the best way to learn something is by teaching it. We have electricity and ceiling fans and a staff room with a fridge and a skills lab with lots of models and teaching aids ... Can you guess where I would rather work? They do have big classes here and I have 73 in one class. I had thought it would be more daunting than it actually is standing up in front of that lot, but I a manage. They are all nurses who are on a 2 year midwifery course and they have lots of experience already. They all recognise me when I am out, of course, as we white people stick out like sore thumbs, and so I am forever pretending I know who they are when I don't. I think they probably know that.
I seldom work more than a 6 hour day, which is the norm here. 8 hour days are called 'white people's hours', but it is very hot here, don't forget. I walk home from the hospital and get an ocada (motorbike taxi) back from the school. And then I have a very exciting evening in the bar with whatever other expats turn up! We get our cat Ginger some meat or fish on the way home, grab an ocada and go home and are often in bed about 10. How's that for an exciting life?
Do I have a typical day at work? Probably not, but I will try to describe one.
I get up about 7 and walk to work, about 10 minutes away, past the local people washing at the public tap and the (semi) naked children, past the fish market and into the main road where I dodge the traffic and all the kids shouting "oporto" (white person) at me. I sometimes give them a regal wave. When I get to work I am usually very hot and sit in the office for about 15 minutes drinking water. We buy packets of it; there is no safe drinking water in the hospital. There is not really any water at all. I therefore want to avoid using the loo there. Then I steel myself and go to the maternity ward where I do a bed round and make notes about the patients. Some of the staff - or most of them - have no idea why I want to write notes about the patients and cannot understand why I find it helpful to know about the patients. Hmm. We have only had one maternal death this month; she had an antepartum haemorrhage, they wanted 3 units of blood to transfuse but they could only get one and she bled again and so died. They get the blood from relatives. We have now got a system for notifying maternal deaths and this is just starting up now. The 2005 figures were 2100:100,000 maternities against a UK figure of 9:100,000. I have been trying to organise the maternity ward but to no avail. I tried to get them doing a proper handover and write notes about the patients but it did not work out. Literacy is a problem here and I found they were unable to pick out the relevant details, so that foundered. I tried to get a system of named staff caring for named patients, which seems so obvious to me, but this proved impossible. I have also tried to instigate daily baby checks, again this has not worked out. The babies do not get checked over when they are born nor on a daily basis, as they would at home. I tried this back in November and it failed then. Someone said that they don't bother about babies here because so many die before they are 5 but maybe, just maybe, some of them would survive if anyone did bother about them. Silly idea of mine. Most of our babies are at the lower end of the normal birthweight range, most likely because of maternal anaemia. This is due to malnutrition and/or malaria. Less than 2.5kg is low birthweight and we have lots about 2.6 or so and we have had some about 1.7kg. Needless to say there is no neonatal care unit. How could there be? No electricity! So, after a while of reading about the drugs and care not given, I go back to the office and write stuff.
In order to feel I am achieving something, I have started some teaching sessions for anyone who is interested. This is actually what I am supposed to be doing: it is called 'capacity building'. They are about maternity/midwifery but open to anyone as the staff rotate around the hospital in 6 month batches. So twice on Mondays I hope some people will show up and they have so far. I did last Monday's session on pre-eclampsia and eclampsia and had 8 to the first session at 11am and 5 to the 3pm show, so not too bad. Only 2 from maternity though. Next Monday's sessions willl be on antepartum haemorrhage. Apt, I think.
The other things is that the new Midwifery school opened here a couple of weeks ago with a lot of razzmatazz. I am also working there, teaching anatomy and physiology which is great because I have to learn it before I can teach it! I did learn it once for exams but really have forgotten so much, but the best way to learn something is by teaching it. We have electricity and ceiling fans and a staff room with a fridge and a skills lab with lots of models and teaching aids ... Can you guess where I would rather work? They do have big classes here and I have 73 in one class. I had thought it would be more daunting than it actually is standing up in front of that lot, but I a manage. They are all nurses who are on a 2 year midwifery course and they have lots of experience already. They all recognise me when I am out, of course, as we white people stick out like sore thumbs, and so I am forever pretending I know who they are when I don't. I think they probably know that.
I seldom work more than a 6 hour day, which is the norm here. 8 hour days are called 'white people's hours', but it is very hot here, don't forget. I walk home from the hospital and get an ocada (motorbike taxi) back from the school. And then I have a very exciting evening in the bar with whatever other expats turn up! We get our cat Ginger some meat or fish on the way home, grab an ocada and go home and are often in bed about 10. How's that for an exciting life?
Saturday, 23 January 2010
NOISE
OHMYGODITISSONOISYHERE!
I will stop shouting now. There is a bit of a lull in the noise level. Before I came I had an idea that it would be peaceful over here, I would be bathed in lovely bird song and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Fat chance. I have never heard such a racket in my life!
I will tell you about a typical 24 hour cycle. The quietest bit is usually from about 2 to 5.30am and that is not guaranteed. Around 5.30 the call to prayer is broadcast from the main mosque, then a smaller mosque joins in and, not to be outdone, the churches' bells start ringing. The call to prayer goes on for about half an hour. Why can't they get an alarm clock instead? Then our neighbours start their morning chores while it is still cool; lighting fires, chopping wood (maybe not in that order) and calling to each other. Whispering is unknown. Then everyone is up and about. The children cry and people argue and sometimes there is music, too. So I walk to work and along the road am passed by countless noisy vehicles with non-functioning exhausts, cranky engines and I don't know what. The local mobile phone companies like to drive trucks through the town playing music at a volume only possible in Africa, I suspect, aided and abetted by the generator to power it. All speakers must be at least the size of a wardrobe. I believe this may be enshrined in law here. The hospital is for sick people but they don't need peace and quiet, no no. They would probably think they had died and gone to hell. So the noise level continues unabated and in the evening there are the televised football matches (usually Manchester Utd. against whoever). There is a house near us where you can go to watch them and I am told you can't get a sheet of paper between the men crammed in there watching. I don't need to tell you that I can sit in my house and listen to the dulcet tones of whoever the English commentators are, do I? Then the music starts - always distorted - don't forget the size of the speakers, and sometimes they seem to have competitions to see who can play it the loudest. The time of day matters not one jot. You want to play it full volume at 4 or 7 am? Fine. As the electricity is provided by generator we have that added to the mix and, of course, we contribute to that ourselves as we like some light in the evenings. We also need it to pump the water from the well to the tank. We normally turn it off around 10 pm. So sometimes it gets quietish around midnight but then the dogs start!
IF YOU COME TO SIERRA LEONE BRING EARPLUGS.
I will stop shouting now. There is a bit of a lull in the noise level. Before I came I had an idea that it would be peaceful over here, I would be bathed in lovely bird song and the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Fat chance. I have never heard such a racket in my life!
I will tell you about a typical 24 hour cycle. The quietest bit is usually from about 2 to 5.30am and that is not guaranteed. Around 5.30 the call to prayer is broadcast from the main mosque, then a smaller mosque joins in and, not to be outdone, the churches' bells start ringing. The call to prayer goes on for about half an hour. Why can't they get an alarm clock instead? Then our neighbours start their morning chores while it is still cool; lighting fires, chopping wood (maybe not in that order) and calling to each other. Whispering is unknown. Then everyone is up and about. The children cry and people argue and sometimes there is music, too. So I walk to work and along the road am passed by countless noisy vehicles with non-functioning exhausts, cranky engines and I don't know what. The local mobile phone companies like to drive trucks through the town playing music at a volume only possible in Africa, I suspect, aided and abetted by the generator to power it. All speakers must be at least the size of a wardrobe. I believe this may be enshrined in law here. The hospital is for sick people but they don't need peace and quiet, no no. They would probably think they had died and gone to hell. So the noise level continues unabated and in the evening there are the televised football matches (usually Manchester Utd. against whoever). There is a house near us where you can go to watch them and I am told you can't get a sheet of paper between the men crammed in there watching. I don't need to tell you that I can sit in my house and listen to the dulcet tones of whoever the English commentators are, do I? Then the music starts - always distorted - don't forget the size of the speakers, and sometimes they seem to have competitions to see who can play it the loudest. The time of day matters not one jot. You want to play it full volume at 4 or 7 am? Fine. As the electricity is provided by generator we have that added to the mix and, of course, we contribute to that ourselves as we like some light in the evenings. We also need it to pump the water from the well to the tank. We normally turn it off around 10 pm. So sometimes it gets quietish around midnight but then the dogs start!
IF YOU COME TO SIERRA LEONE BRING EARPLUGS.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Christmas
Was it really Christmas? I don't think so as it was far too hot and my Christmases so far have been dull and rainy. But that is in England and I'm in Sierra Leone, so it makes sense. It just felt so odd. We had none of the relentless pre-Christmas commercialism that you get back home. I did not see a single Christmas card or wrapping paper or anything at all. I got one Christmas card from a fellow Brit who had been back home and come back with cards and crackers. I saw 3 Christmas trees; one outside the Lebanese supermarket in Bo, one at Magbenthe hospital and one here in the Wusum hotel, whose internet cafe I am using at the moment.
I went on Christmas eve to the beach at a place called River no. 2 (imaginative, no?) not far from Freetown. The photos above are of River no. 2 and I have just added them (May 2010). I got myself and my rucksack to Magbenthe hospital on a motor bike taxi before 8 in the morning but we didn't leave until about 11. I do like to be punctual! I went with Matt, who is currently taking care of the farm his father manages about 40 mins. outside Makeni, Natasha, a Dutch midwife from Magbenthe hospital and Ellenoor a Dutch physio also from Magbenthe and her boyfriend Desmond. We were a motley crew: a Sierra Leoneon, 2 Dutch, one South African and British me. Matt and Natasha and I were not too keen on the accomodation at River no. 2. If you have the Bradt guide book, it sounds much better than it is and, for $50 per room per night, it is not worth it. However, the location is great and the food was not bad. We spent the night of Christmas Eve on the beach with a bottle of wine, a bonfire and looking up at the stars. I am sure we saw a Christmas tree up there ...
On Christmas day we went the few miles over the usual cratered road to Franco's where Suzie and Bernhard were staying and I had my lobster on the beach that I had so long wanted at Christmas. Well, almost on the beach; actually on a terrace overlooking the beach. It was a lovely day and we had Suzie's Christmas crackers and wore out paper hats. How British! Boxing day was similar but minus lobster, then back to Makeni on 27th. So that was it; no presents either given or received, no mad last minute Christmas shopping or anything. Just being lazy. And eating lobster.
New Year was quiet and back in Makeni. Nothing much else to say really. I did miss my girls, but as it did not seem like Christmas at all that was bearable.
A Happy new year to you all and I shall be home this year! Before you know it!!
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Political Correctness
Just does not exist here. They would not recogise it if it bit them in the bottom. Every time we leave the house we get 'oporto' yelled at us, mainly by children but sometimes by adults as in 'oporto, come over here!' Oporto means white person. Lots of us find it very wearing after a while.
Ｉｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｈｅａｒ ｉｔ ａｓ ｍｙ ｎａｍｅ ｏｒ ａｓ ｈｅｌｌｏ， ｂｕｔ ｉｔ ｄｏｅｓ ｎｏｔ ａｌｗａｙｓ ｗｏｒｋ． ｗｈｙ ｈａｓ ｍｙ ｔｙｐｅ ｇｏｎｅ ｆｕｎｎｙ？ Ｓｏｒｒｙ． Ｃａｎ ｙｏｕ ｉｍａｇｉｎｅ ｗｈａｔ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｈａｐｐｅｎ ｉｆ ｗｅ ｙｅｌｌｅｄ ’ｂｌａｃｋ ｍａｎ’ ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｔｉｍｅ ｉｎ Ｌｏｎｄｏｎ？
Ｔｈｅｙ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｔｅｌｌ ｕｓ ａｐａｒｔ ａｔ ａｌｌ ａｓ ｗｅ ａｌｌ ｌｏｏｋ ｔｈｅ ｓａｍｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅｍ， ａｓ ｔｈｅｙ ｗｉｌｌ ｖｅｒｙ ｃｈｅｅｒｆｕｌｌｙ ｔｅｌｌ ｙｏｕ． Ｔｈｅｙ ｓｏｍｅｔｉｍｅｓ ｃａｌｌ ｔｈｅ Ｆｉｌｉｐｉｎｏｓ ’ｃｈｉｎｇ ｃｈｏｎｇ’， ｔｈｉｎｋｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｙ ａｒｅ Ｃｈｉｎｅｓｅ． Ｍｙ ｈｏｕｓｅｍａｔｅ Ａｎｎｅｔｔｅ ｉｓ Ｆｉｌｉｐｉｎａ ａｎｄ ｐｅｏｐｌｅ ｔｈｉｎｋ ｓｈｅ ｉｓ ｍｙ ｄａｕｇｈｔｅｒ．
Ｔｈｅｙ ｈａｖｅ ａ ｔｏｔａｌｌｙ ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ ｏｆ ｃｏｎｃｅｐｔ ｏｆ ｂｏｄｙ ｉｍａｇｅ， ｔｏｏ． Ｎｏｔ ｌｏｎｇ ａｆｔｅｒ Ｉ ａｒｒｉｖｅｄ ａ ｍａｎ ａｓｋｅｄ ｍｅ ｉｆ Ｉ ｗａｓ Ｅｎｇｌｉｓｈ ａｎｄ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ａｓｋｅｄ ｈｉｍ ｈｏｗ ｈｅ ｋｎｅｗ ｈｅ ｓａｉｄ ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｗｅ ａｌｌ ｈａｖｅ ｆａｔ ｂｏｄｉｅｓ！ Ｈｅ ｍｅａｎｔ ｉｔ ａｓ ａ ｃｏｍｐｌｉｍｅｎｔ ａｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉｓ ｗｈａｔ ｔｈｅｙ ｌｉｋｅ． Ｆａｔ＝ｐｒｏｓｐｅｒｏｕｓ． Ｗｈｅｎ ｗｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｔｏ Ｔｉｗａｉ ｉｓｌａｎｄ ２ ｗｅｅｋｓ ａｇｏ ａｎｄ ｓｌｅｐｔ ｉｎ ｔｅｎｔｓ， ｔｈｅ ｍａｎ ｓａｉｄ ｔｈｅ ｆａｔ ｏｎｅ （ｍｅ） ｓｈｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｔｈｅ ｂｉｇｇｅｓｔ ｔｅｎｔ． Ａｇａｉｎ， ａ ｃｏｍｐｌｉｍｅｎｔ ｉｎ ｈｉｓ ｔｅｒｍｓ ｂｕｔ ｎｏｔ ｉｎ ｍｉｎｅ． Ｆｏｒ ａｎｙｏｎｅ ｗｈｏ ｄｏｅｓ ｎｏｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｍｅ， Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｃｅｒｔａｉｎｌｙ ｌｏｓｅ ｓｏｍｅ ｗｅｉｇｈｔ （ａｎｄ ａｍ ｏｖｅｒ ｈｅｒｅ） ｂｕｔ Ｉ ａｍ ｎｏｔ ｇｒｏｓｓｌｙ ｏｖｅｒｗｅｉｇｈｔ． Ｉ ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｇｅｔ ｕｐｓｅｔ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ｂｕｔ ｉｔ ｇｅｔｓ ｉｒｒｉｔａｔｉｎｇ．
Ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｎｏ ｐｒｉｖａｃｙ ａｔ ａｌｌ ｈｅｒｅ Ｌｉｆｅ ｉｓ ｌｉｖｅｄ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｔｅｅｔ ｉｎ ｐｕｂｌｉｃ， ｌｉｋｅ ａ ｇｏｌｄｆｉｓｈ ｂｏｗｌ． Ｉｔ ｉｓ ｈｏｔ ａｎｄ ｍｏｓｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｈｏｍｅｓ ａｒｅｎ’ｔ ｇｏｏｄ， ｓｏ ｉｔ’ｓ ｍｕｃｈ ｂｅｔｔｅｒ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ． Ｍｅａｌｓ ａｒｅ ｔａｋｅｎ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ ｆｒｏｍ ａ ｃｏｍｍｕｎａｌ ｐｌａｔｅ． Ｔｈｅｙ ｔｈｉｎｋ ｗｅ ａｒｅ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ｏｄｄ ｅａｔｉｎｇ ｉｎｓｉｄｅ， ｂｅｈｉｎｄ ｏｕｒ ｃｏｍｐｏｕｎｄ ｗａｌｌ． Ａｎｄ ｍａｙｂｅ ｗｅ ａｒｅ．
Ｔｈｅｙ ｗａｔｃｈ ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｗｅ ｄｏ， ｗｈｉｃｈ ｓｏｍｅ ｅｘｐａｔｓ ｈａｖｅ ｆａｉｌｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｒａｓｐ ｕｎｆｏｒｔｕｎａｔｅｌｙ． Ｍｙ ｈｏｕｓｅｍａｔｅ Ｃｅｌｉｎｅ （ｗｈｏ ｒｅｔｕｒｎｅｄ ｔｏ Ｃａｎａｄａ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ） ｔｏｌｄ ｍｅ ｗｈｅｎ ｓｈｅ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｃａｍｅ ｈｅｒｅ ｓｈｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｆｏｒ ａ ｄｒｉｎｋ ａｔ ａ ｂａｒ ａｎｄ ｗａｓ ｔｏｌｄ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｌｌｏｗｉｎｇ ｄａｙ ｅｘａｃｔｌｙ ｗｈａｔ ｓｈｅ’ｄ ｈａｄ ｔｏ ｄｒｉｎｋ ａｎｄ ｗｈｏ ｈｅｒ ｃｏｍｐａｎｉｏｎｓ ｗｅｒｅ． Ｓｔｉｌｌ， ｔｈｅ ｕｐｓｉｄｅ ｉｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｆｉｎｄ ｙｏｕｒ ｆｒｉｅｎｄ ｙｏｕ ｊｕｓｔ ａｓｋ ａｎｙｏｎｅ ’ｗｈｅｒｅ ｍｙ ｐａｄｄｙ？’ （ｆｒｉｅｎｄ） ａｎｄ ｔｈｅｙ ｓａｙ ｓｈｅ ｊｕｓｔ ｗｅｎｔ ｉｎｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｂａｎｋ．
Ｗｈｏ ｎｅｅｄｓ ＣＣＴＶ ｃａｍｅｒａｓ？
Ｉｔｒｙ ｔｏ ｈｅａｒ ｉｔ ａｓ ｍｙ ｎａｍｅ ｏｒ ａｓ ｈｅｌｌｏ， ｂｕｔ ｉｔ ｄｏｅｓ ｎｏｔ ａｌｗａｙｓ ｗｏｒｋ． ｗｈｙ ｈａｓ ｍｙ ｔｙｐｅ ｇｏｎｅ ｆｕｎｎｙ？ Ｓｏｒｒｙ． Ｃａｎ ｙｏｕ ｉｍａｇｉｎｅ ｗｈａｔ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｈａｐｐｅｎ ｉｆ ｗｅ ｙｅｌｌｅｄ ’ｂｌａｃｋ ｍａｎ’ ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｔｉｍｅ ｉｎ Ｌｏｎｄｏｎ？
Ｔｈｅｙ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｔｅｌｌ ｕｓ ａｐａｒｔ ａｔ ａｌｌ ａｓ ｗｅ ａｌｌ ｌｏｏｋ ｔｈｅ ｓａｍｅ ｔｏ ｔｈｅｍ， ａｓ ｔｈｅｙ ｗｉｌｌ ｖｅｒｙ ｃｈｅｅｒｆｕｌｌｙ ｔｅｌｌ ｙｏｕ． Ｔｈｅｙ ｓｏｍｅｔｉｍｅｓ ｃａｌｌ ｔｈｅ Ｆｉｌｉｐｉｎｏｓ ’ｃｈｉｎｇ ｃｈｏｎｇ’， ｔｈｉｎｋｉｎｇ ｔｈｅｙ ａｒｅ Ｃｈｉｎｅｓｅ． Ｍｙ ｈｏｕｓｅｍａｔｅ Ａｎｎｅｔｔｅ ｉｓ Ｆｉｌｉｐｉｎａ ａｎｄ ｐｅｏｐｌｅ ｔｈｉｎｋ ｓｈｅ ｉｓ ｍｙ ｄａｕｇｈｔｅｒ．
Ｔｈｅｙ ｈａｖｅ ａ ｔｏｔａｌｌｙ ｄｉｆｆｅｒｅｎｔ ｏｆ ｃｏｎｃｅｐｔ ｏｆ ｂｏｄｙ ｉｍａｇｅ， ｔｏｏ． Ｎｏｔ ｌｏｎｇ ａｆｔｅｒ Ｉ ａｒｒｉｖｅｄ ａ ｍａｎ ａｓｋｅｄ ｍｅ ｉｆ Ｉ ｗａｓ Ｅｎｇｌｉｓｈ ａｎｄ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ａｓｋｅｄ ｈｉｍ ｈｏｗ ｈｅ ｋｎｅｗ ｈｅ ｓａｉｄ ｉｔ ｗａｓ ｂｅｃａｕｓｅ ｗｅ ａｌｌ ｈａｖｅ ｆａｔ ｂｏｄｉｅｓ！ Ｈｅ ｍｅａｎｔ ｉｔ ａｓ ａ ｃｏｍｐｌｉｍｅｎｔ ａｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉｓ ｗｈａｔ ｔｈｅｙ ｌｉｋｅ． Ｆａｔ＝ｐｒｏｓｐｅｒｏｕｓ． Ｗｈｅｎ ｗｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｔｏ Ｔｉｗａｉ ｉｓｌａｎｄ ２ ｗｅｅｋｓ ａｇｏ ａｎｄ ｓｌｅｐｔ ｉｎ ｔｅｎｔｓ， ｔｈｅ ｍａｎ ｓａｉｄ ｔｈｅ ｆａｔ ｏｎｅ （ｍｅ） ｓｈｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ｔｈｅ ｂｉｇｇｅｓｔ ｔｅｎｔ． Ａｇａｉｎ， ａ ｃｏｍｐｌｉｍｅｎｔ ｉｎ ｈｉｓ ｔｅｒｍｓ ｂｕｔ ｎｏｔ ｉｎ ｍｉｎｅ． Ｆｏｒ ａｎｙｏｎｅ ｗｈｏ ｄｏｅｓ ｎｏｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｍｅ， Ｉ ｃｏｕｌｄ ｃｅｒｔａｉｎｌｙ ｌｏｓｅ ｓｏｍｅ ｗｅｉｇｈｔ （ａｎｄ ａｍ ｏｖｅｒ ｈｅｒｅ） ｂｕｔ Ｉ ａｍ ｎｏｔ ｇｒｏｓｓｌｙ ｏｖｅｒｗｅｉｇｈｔ． Ｉ ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｇｅｔ ｕｐｓｅｔ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ｂｕｔ ｉｔ ｇｅｔｓ ｉｒｒｉｔａｔｉｎｇ．
Ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｎｏ ｐｒｉｖａｃｙ ａｔ ａｌｌ ｈｅｒｅ Ｌｉｆｅ ｉｓ ｌｉｖｅｄ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｓｔｅｅｔ ｉｎ ｐｕｂｌｉｃ， ｌｉｋｅ ａ ｇｏｌｄｆｉｓｈ ｂｏｗｌ． Ｉｔ ｉｓ ｈｏｔ ａｎｄ ｍｏｓｔ ｏｆ ｔｈｅｉｒ ｈｏｍｅｓ ａｒｅｎ’ｔ ｇｏｏｄ， ｓｏ ｉｔ’ｓ ｍｕｃｈ ｂｅｔｔｅｒ ｔｏ ｂｅ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ． Ｍｅａｌｓ ａｒｅ ｔａｋｅｎ ｏｕｔｓｉｄｅ ｆｒｏｍ ａ ｃｏｍｍｕｎａｌ ｐｌａｔｅ． Ｔｈｅｙ ｔｈｉｎｋ ｗｅ ａｒｅ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ｏｄｄ ｅａｔｉｎｇ ｉｎｓｉｄｅ， ｂｅｈｉｎｄ ｏｕｒ ｃｏｍｐｏｕｎｄ ｗａｌｌ． Ａｎｄ ｍａｙｂｅ ｗｅ ａｒｅ．
Ｔｈｅｙ ｗａｔｃｈ ｅｖｅｒｙｔｈｉｎｇ ｗｅ ｄｏ， ｗｈｉｃｈ ｓｏｍｅ ｅｘｐａｔｓ ｈａｖｅ ｆａｉｌｅｄ ｔｏ ｇｒａｓｐ ｕｎｆｏｒｔｕｎａｔｅｌｙ． Ｍｙ ｈｏｕｓｅｍａｔｅ Ｃｅｌｉｎｅ （ｗｈｏ ｒｅｔｕｒｎｅｄ ｔｏ Ｃａｎａｄａ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ） ｔｏｌｄ ｍｅ ｗｈｅｎ ｓｈｅ ｆｉｒｓｔ ｃａｍｅ ｈｅｒｅ ｓｈｅ ｗｅｎｔ ｆｏｒ ａ ｄｒｉｎｋ ａｔ ａ ｂａｒ ａｎｄ ｗａｓ ｔｏｌｄ ｔｈｅ ｆｏｌｌｏｗｉｎｇ ｄａｙ ｅｘａｃｔｌｙ ｗｈａｔ ｓｈｅ’ｄ ｈａｄ ｔｏ ｄｒｉｎｋ ａｎｄ ｗｈｏ ｈｅｒ ｃｏｍｐａｎｉｏｎｓ ｗｅｒｅ． Ｓｔｉｌｌ， ｔｈｅ ｕｐｓｉｄｅ ｉｓ ｔｈａｔ ｉｆ ｙｏｕ ｃａｎ’ｔ ｆｉｎｄ ｙｏｕｒ ｆｒｉｅｎｄ ｙｏｕ ｊｕｓｔ ａｓｋ ａｎｙｏｎｅ ’ｗｈｅｒｅ ｍｙ ｐａｄｄｙ？’ （ｆｒｉｅｎｄ） ａｎｄ ｔｈｅｙ ｓａｙ ｓｈｅ ｊｕｓｔ ｗｅｎｔ ｉｎｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｂａｎｋ．
Ｗｈｏ ｎｅｅｄｓ ＣＣＴＶ ｃａｍｅｒａｓ？
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Food
Before Food, my apologies for the delay in contacting anyone. Internet access has been a nightmare recently and I won't bother you with the details. I am currently borrowing the modem stick (as a dongle is called here) from some friends who are currently in the UK and I cannot access my email account for some reason, so I hope you all find this.
So to the important subject of food, glorious food. Not so glorious for me here, but I am losing weight. When I first came to Makeni, I could not sort out at all how to find food. There is a very scary market which is really crowded with motorbikes weaving in and out and you go through to a covered bit where the food is. And no motorbikes in there at least. But there was not much there, just sweet potatoes, some onions, a few beans. I did see a butcher but did not dare go near it. How I longed for Borough Market. There are stalls out in the streets where they sell fruit and some vegetables and, of course, food is very seasonal here. But then they do this odd thing of having about 10 little stalls along the road but they all sell the same thing! So if you want oranges and onions you have to walk about half a kilometre in 30 degrees plus heat. But then St. Mary's opened. I did write before that it is like Harrods food hall to us (or was it Fortnum's?) but please don't think of that too literally. It is more like a small Somerfield with some household goods in it. But it was such an improvement. It is relatively expensive and will put some of the small traders out of business but the goods are much better.
Today for breakfast I had oatmeal (porridge to us English) which is made from quick cook oats in a tin. I have not had fresh milk since I came to this country and we have dried milk, so I make some up with hot water and put on the porridge and add some maple syrup. Then I make instant coffee with the rest of the milk. My housemate Celine and I walked to St. Mary's fairly early this morning to get some things as we have friends coming over tomorrow. We got 2 bottles of red wine (quite good) as we cannot chill white: no fridge. We found some sliced processed cheese and got very excited and bought that (yes, really) and they had a plate of small, not brilliant tomatoes in the chiller so we got those too. I bought nice bread outside and when we got home we had bread, cheese and tomatoes. And really enjoyed it. I had only had 2 slivers of tomato in sandwiches since I had been there.
I also bought what they call Irish potatoes, to distinguish them from the more common sweet potatoes and I am having garlic mashed potatoes tonight and I shall start when I have finished writing to you, my dear friends. I have no protein to go with them so I may open a tin of green beans. Oh, yes. I very happily spent almost 3 pounds sterling on a tin of
Ambrosia rice pudding a few weeks ago and am hording it for a rainy day. Also, I have had some fresh pineapple which I bought 2 days ago for about one pound 20 pence, which is the equivalent of 2 days pay for a manual worker.
As I said, we have no fridge and in fact it is more sensible to have a freezer. Then you put the generator on in the evening and the freezer functions as a fridge, as fridges don't like to be on for only 4 or so hours a day. In fact, it is pointless. We cook on a 2 ring hob which is powered by calor gas, and we can now get this from St. Mary's (they do ice cream too). When I got here you had to get calor from Freetown (115 miles away). Some people cook on kerosene which stinks to high heaven and most of the locals cook on open fires. Picturesque but medieval, I think.
Tomorrow our friends will bring some food as they like cooking and have better facilities. We are planning to go and get some haloumi cheese and fry it with garlic (no grill) and make some potato salad. And drink wine!
Did you know you can freeze eggs? I had no idea until the St. Mary's man (Lebanese, like most of the enterprising people here) said that the ones we had been buying in the street were frozen ones imported from Europe. His are fresh farm eggs. Egg boxes are unknown here and you carry them home in a plastic bag. You can imagine the results. I often put them in my crash helmet. I also buy Heinz baked beans (there are strong rumours that St. Mary's will be stocking bacon. I wake up hallucinating that I smell it frying) and I have HP sauce. I have started eating Marmite! I hate it but treat it as medicine. Oh, yes, I got some marmalade today, too.
If you have a vehicle, the common way to shop is to pull up outside the shop (small, open fronted shack really) and yell 'bread!" or whatever you want and they come running over. I think I will try it outside Waitrose when I get home and see what happens.
They have also recently opened a new restaurant, which is the best here. Again, do not get too excited as all things are relative. The service is much better there as the man who owns it spent 5 years in London and understands the concept of customer service, which is generally unknown here. You can go even to the 'posh' hotel (not very), order something very indifferent, wait half an hour only to have them saunter up and tell you they haven't got it.
When I come back home, I am going to eat bacon and eggs and drink fresh milk. I shall eat clotted cream until it comes out of my ears. And no doubt regain any weight I have lost. I had thought I was not particularly interested in food. Oh but I am!
So to the important subject of food, glorious food. Not so glorious for me here, but I am losing weight. When I first came to Makeni, I could not sort out at all how to find food. There is a very scary market which is really crowded with motorbikes weaving in and out and you go through to a covered bit where the food is. And no motorbikes in there at least. But there was not much there, just sweet potatoes, some onions, a few beans. I did see a butcher but did not dare go near it. How I longed for Borough Market. There are stalls out in the streets where they sell fruit and some vegetables and, of course, food is very seasonal here. But then they do this odd thing of having about 10 little stalls along the road but they all sell the same thing! So if you want oranges and onions you have to walk about half a kilometre in 30 degrees plus heat. But then St. Mary's opened. I did write before that it is like Harrods food hall to us (or was it Fortnum's?) but please don't think of that too literally. It is more like a small Somerfield with some household goods in it. But it was such an improvement. It is relatively expensive and will put some of the small traders out of business but the goods are much better.
Today for breakfast I had oatmeal (porridge to us English) which is made from quick cook oats in a tin. I have not had fresh milk since I came to this country and we have dried milk, so I make some up with hot water and put on the porridge and add some maple syrup. Then I make instant coffee with the rest of the milk. My housemate Celine and I walked to St. Mary's fairly early this morning to get some things as we have friends coming over tomorrow. We got 2 bottles of red wine (quite good) as we cannot chill white: no fridge. We found some sliced processed cheese and got very excited and bought that (yes, really) and they had a plate of small, not brilliant tomatoes in the chiller so we got those too. I bought nice bread outside and when we got home we had bread, cheese and tomatoes. And really enjoyed it. I had only had 2 slivers of tomato in sandwiches since I had been there.
I also bought what they call Irish potatoes, to distinguish them from the more common sweet potatoes and I am having garlic mashed potatoes tonight and I shall start when I have finished writing to you, my dear friends. I have no protein to go with them so I may open a tin of green beans. Oh, yes. I very happily spent almost 3 pounds sterling on a tin of
Ambrosia rice pudding a few weeks ago and am hording it for a rainy day. Also, I have had some fresh pineapple which I bought 2 days ago for about one pound 20 pence, which is the equivalent of 2 days pay for a manual worker.
As I said, we have no fridge and in fact it is more sensible to have a freezer. Then you put the generator on in the evening and the freezer functions as a fridge, as fridges don't like to be on for only 4 or so hours a day. In fact, it is pointless. We cook on a 2 ring hob which is powered by calor gas, and we can now get this from St. Mary's (they do ice cream too). When I got here you had to get calor from Freetown (115 miles away). Some people cook on kerosene which stinks to high heaven and most of the locals cook on open fires. Picturesque but medieval, I think.
Tomorrow our friends will bring some food as they like cooking and have better facilities. We are planning to go and get some haloumi cheese and fry it with garlic (no grill) and make some potato salad. And drink wine!
Did you know you can freeze eggs? I had no idea until the St. Mary's man (Lebanese, like most of the enterprising people here) said that the ones we had been buying in the street were frozen ones imported from Europe. His are fresh farm eggs. Egg boxes are unknown here and you carry them home in a plastic bag. You can imagine the results. I often put them in my crash helmet. I also buy Heinz baked beans (there are strong rumours that St. Mary's will be stocking bacon. I wake up hallucinating that I smell it frying) and I have HP sauce. I have started eating Marmite! I hate it but treat it as medicine. Oh, yes, I got some marmalade today, too.
If you have a vehicle, the common way to shop is to pull up outside the shop (small, open fronted shack really) and yell 'bread!" or whatever you want and they come running over. I think I will try it outside Waitrose when I get home and see what happens.
They have also recently opened a new restaurant, which is the best here. Again, do not get too excited as all things are relative. The service is much better there as the man who owns it spent 5 years in London and understands the concept of customer service, which is generally unknown here. You can go even to the 'posh' hotel (not very), order something very indifferent, wait half an hour only to have them saunter up and tell you they haven't got it.
When I come back home, I am going to eat bacon and eggs and drink fresh milk. I shall eat clotted cream until it comes out of my ears. And no doubt regain any weight I have lost. I had thought I was not particularly interested in food. Oh but I am!
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