I Think Our Cat is Broken

Post by Lara

27 December 2012

A few weeks ago Eric, a friend of ours, made a 19-mile journey with his own cat’s kitten in tow to bring her to her new home.  We named her Nimbus and welcomed her into the menagerie that is our home (between our half of the house and the neighbors who occupy the other half and share a courtyard with us there are 3 dogs, 1 monkey, about 15 chickens, and now a cat—there used to be 2 other cats but they were “thieved” before we moved in).  The first night Nimbus spent in our house we knew something was up. 

The cat was generally afraid of us and unfriendly for the first day, which is to be expected. We offered her some yummy food and gave her some space so as not to scare her off immediately.  Because she’s still a kitten and according to Eric can wreak some serious havoc when there are breakable things about, we decided it was for the best to keep her out of our bedroom at night, so we closed the bedroom door, tucked in our mosquito net, and sat reading for an hour or so before we went to sleep.  Soon after we got in bed I heard a high-pitched whine that seemed to be coming from the open window behind us.  It didn’t sound like any of the 3 dogs, all of whom we can distinguish by their individual barks, whines, and howls by now.  “What is that sound?” I asked Kevin.  “Sounds like a kid pretending to cry like one of the dogs” he replied. We went on with that assumption for a while.  The whining continued, and still sounded a lot like a small child pretending to call like an animal several yards outside of our bedroom window.  This kept up to the point that I began to grow angry at the child making the noises—it was well after 10 pm by this point—and was just about to get up and go outside to take care of it when I sat straight up and realized that a) the noise was in fact coming from our bedroom door and b) if there were a child making noises outside of our house at night, the dogs would go crazy. I hadn’t heard a thing from them for a while.  Next, we heard the sound of claws digging into the outside of the bedroom door, at least halfway up the door.  That sound paired with the eerily human-like whining we heard finally registered—that’s our new kitten, feeling lonely and wanting to come inside.  “That does not sound like a cat.” Kevin stated. So now we were aware that our cat meows like a child meowing like a cat. Interesting.

The following morning Nimbus ventured outside and came face-to-face with the other animals of the house. Feeling instantly threatened, she began to puff her fur up and…emit yet another strange noise. This time we knew it was the cat, but it took a while to find something to compare the noise to. We finally settled on the idea that when she’s puffing up and giving off her “get away from me” warning, she sounds like an old door creaking open.  Champion, the youngest and most foolhardy of the dogs, decided that the cat-that-sounds-like-a-creaky-door was something new to play with, and when he tried to get near Nimbus surprised us yet again, letting out a hiss that sounds almost exactly like a water cannon at an amusement park [by the way, water cannons at amusement parks sound so nice right now, considering that it’s regularly over 90 degrees during the day].  Nimbus gave one more water cannon hiss and disappeared inside for an hour. 

In conclusion, what we thought was a kitten coming to us turned out to be some sort of small child in cat’s clothing that can creak like an old door hinge and poof like a water jet when provoked.  We hope she still kills rats.

Salone for the Holidays

Post by Lara

24 February 2013

As requested, this post will be about Christmas and the holiday season in Sierra Leone.  First, an overview of religion in Salone: the hard numbers seem tough to pin down, but it seems the population here is mostly Muslim with a prominent Christian minority (we’ve heard Muslims outnumber Christians 70-30, 60-40, and 55-45. We’re really not sure which of those is most accurate, but if I had to guess I’d say maybe 60-40).  Salone is also quite unique among African countries and the world at large because Christians and Muslims coexist here with no problems to speak of.  As an example, our host mother is Catholic. Our host father is Muslim.  The kids are split, partly because they are not all the biological children of both of our host parents. Our host mother’s own mother was raised Catholic but converted to Islam because she moved to a village with no church and plenty of Muslims, and she wanted more than anything to belong to a community.  The prevailing question when you meet someone new here is not, “Are you religious?” but rather, “Are you Christian or Muslim?”  Because of this prevalence of both religious groups, holidays for both traditions are celebrated by everyone.  Pray Day, the last day of Ramadan, is a public holiday, as are the Prophet’s birthday, Christmas, and Easter. For those who do not celebrate a holiday through religious ceremonies, they will still often celebrate with a trip to the beach, a dance party, or at least a visit to some friends and family. 

So with all that in mind, Christmas season was a special time of year here, even though it didn’t exactly feel like Christmas to us.  Radio stations were playing upbeat, reggae versions of several popular Christmas carols.  My personal favorite was the one that goes, “Mary’s boy child Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day”.  The African version is quite peppy compared to what you hear on 99.9 FM in Dayton.  Schools closed around the 2^nd week of December for 2 weeks, and we decided to do some traveling during that time.  We were in Makeni, a city in the north, for a week of training, so instead of going home we caught a ride to Freetown and spent the week before Christmas in the nation’s capital. 

Instead of sprawling indoor shopping malls, Freetown has PZ (pronounced “Pee-Zed” because we speak British English here), a large area of the city that is jam-packed with shops and street vendors, somewhat organized by what they sell.  Depending on where you are in PZ, you can buy new clothes, thrift store clothes, textbooks, electronics, food, kitchen appliances, a live goat, and just about anything else you can think of.  Despite the difference in environment, Christmas fever was still in the air, and numerous stalls were selling jewelry, perfume, and gift sets all over PZ.  We spent an afternoon shopping for school books and football (read: soccer) jerseys before stopping for some shawarma and Dr. Pepper, both things we cannot buy anywhere near our town. 

The Peace Corps hostel in Freetown was merrily decked out with a Christmas tree, garlands, and paper stockings for all of the volunteers in the country, and we spent some quality time with several other volunteers who also decided to avail themselves of running water and supermarkets for a while.  We put together a homemade lasagna supper one night, and then Josh, another volunteer, wowed us with one of the best apple pies I have ever eaten, paired with vanilla ice cream that Kevin and I sprung for as a Christmas gift to the volunteers at the hostel.  On December 23^rd, a group of us donned our swim suits and hopped in a taxi to visit Aberdeen, one of the city’s beaches. We hung out at a beach-front bar and sipped cold beer and a tequila sunrise while local artists walked up and down the beach selling their wares. We ended up buying one piece—a map of Sierra Leone by district, showing where different products originate, such as rice, sorghum, diamonds, fish, etc.

On Christmas Eve we traveled to Bo to spend the holiday with our host family.  A few weeks earlier we had stopped into Bo, bought fabric for Christmas clothes, and had them delivered to our tailors so they could make them while we traveled.  Our host sister Emma loved my fabric so much that our host mother went and got her a yard of it as well, and Emma and I went ashabi [“in uniform”] for Christmas mass.  One of the neighbors came over and planted (braided) my hair.  Below is a photo of us with Amie, Effe, and Emma all dressed up before leaving for church.

Christmas Eve mass began at 10pm, which is generally well past our bedtime.  We showed up early for Christmas carols sung by the choir, and then a short play by the Sunday school classes.  By the time mass started I was about to fall asleep, which is usually par for the course at midnight mass in the states as well.  Much like Kevin’s parents’ parish back home, churches here very seldom offer short services.  Many of the songs were the same, but had an African tempo and flare to them—Silent Night, The First Noel, etc.  After communion, we ducked out and walked from the church down to Obama, a bar that broadcasts football games. Our host father was waiting for us there with his car. 

On Christmas morning, we slept in as long as we were able (about 8 am) and then hung out with our family at home all morning. Almost all of the kids in the compound got sunglasses for Christmas, and we gave the whole family hand-dyed gara, which is considered the nicest fabric to have clothes made from here.  Our host father fired up his generator and turned on the TV which was playing, of all things, the Sesame Street Christmas special that my parents recorded eons ago and we used to watch every year.  In the early afternoon, we loaded into the car and spent a few hours “patrolling” around Bo visiting friends and family. Everywhere we went we were offered a seat and a cold drink, and we spent about half an hour chatting and catching up before moving on.  Toward evening, we stopped into a newly opened hotel outside of the city and sat outside by the swimming pool while Amie and Emma played on the swing set.  Papa bought us soda and beer, and Kevin bought some popcorn to share.  We stayed until after dark, and then went back to the house to eat dinner and watch a movie.

The next day we traveled back to our town with our host family, who were going to visit our host granny who is my sister’s and my namesake (Emma Gbessay).  In our town, there was an “outing,” or a big party, on the 26^th.  We did not attend since we were totally exhausted from two weeks of travel.  The rest of our school break went a lot like breaks do at home—sleeping in, taking day trips when possible, and going out to the bar in the evening now and then. 

So, there's our holiday season in a nutshell! It was definitely strange being somewhere hot and not seeing our family over the holidays, and we most certainly missed all the familiar people and places that make Christmas so special for us, but we made the most of it this year.  Next year we hope to fit in a short trip back to Ohio for the holidays, so this will likely be our only Salone Christmas. 

Not A Real Blog Post, Part 5

Post by Lara and Kevin                                                                                    

19 November -22 December 2012

Another smattering of tidbits for your perusal:

• Kevin had to shave early in “Beardvember” for two reasons:
1.  It’s too damn hot here to have facial hair.
2.  He looks like his own evil twin.
• Rubber bands are referred to here as rubber faks [pronounced “fahks”]. This is made into a verb when talking about securing your hair, or anything else, with a rubber band.  Before we learned this, we were quite confused when the neighbor girls would tell Lara they wanted to come fak her. 
• Kevin is still practicing his engineering & design skills here in Salone! So far he has built a 4-foot bridge, a wire whisk, a watering can for our garden, a drying rack for dishes, and a hen box for our new hen.   He is also working on making toy cars out of soda cans for our neighbor kids for Christmas.
• You may have heard that Sierra Leone had a presidential election on November 17^th. The result of the election was about two weeks of no school: the first week because teachers and adult students had to travel to their precincts to vote, and the second week because they were awaiting the announcement of the election results. We enjoy telling our colleagues that in the states, Election Day itself is not a holiday, and life returns to normal the next day whether the results have been announced or not. 
• The neighbor girls taught Lara how to play hopscotch recently, only it’s not called hopscotch. It’s called A day [Krio for “I died”]. 
• Kevin has been diligently working to solve the Rubik’s cube he brought here, and he’s just a few squares away from solving it.  You might recall that when Lara did a semester in Ireland, she made the goal of solving Minesweeper at the expert level, and succeeded exactly one time.

• 

  Tommy: a very meaty cat

  Last week a student of Lara’s came over and wanted to see pictures from home, so we spent an hour or so going through photos on the computer. When he saw Tommy, our cat, he asked if we’ve ever eaten cat. We said no. He said it’s delicious. Later we showed him a photo of Smokey, Kevin’s late cat. We said she died, to which he responded, “When it died, did you eat it?” Still no.

• 

  We had to flood these ants out of our "fruit bowl"

  Apparently there is a running joke about new Peace Corps volunteers finding bugs in their food and refusing to eat the food, then as they get used to the new environment they start eating around the bugs, then they start eating everything, bugs and all, then finally they toss out the food and just eat the bugs.  We’re currently somewhere between steps 2 and 3.
• This past week was full of animal ups and downs.  First, a friend in town gave Lara a hen. Then, a fellow volunteer came to visit and brought a kitten for us. Then, we found out our hen has “bird flu” or something like it and we had to kill it.  Luckily for us, some friends of ours took it upon themselves to kill and dispose of the hen so we did not have to do it ourselves.

• 

  Lara scandalously wearing pants

  Lara had an interesting conversation with a male colleague recently that started with her wondering why many of her students are not taking her class seriously and ended with him asserting that cell phones and women wearing long pants (“trousers”) are destroying this country…then telling Lara that he holds her up as an example to his students because she doesn’t wear long trousers in public.  Note: Lara has worn trousers to school at least twice, and wears them often when she walks into town to shop. We’re not sure if this teacher is aware of that.
• Kevin is working on convincing our next door neighbor (a man, and a teacher at Lara’s school) that he does in fact know how to cook and is actually pretty good at it.  The neighbor does not seem convinced even though we have shared several home-cooked goodies with him and made sure to point out when Kevin cooked it.  This situation reached the point of silliness last week when Kevin called over while he was sautéing onions, “Sir, I am cooking!” and the response was, “no, you are parching” [parching is ‘roasting’].  We’re not sure he’s ever going to be convinced.

• 

  Our friend Lauren getting a famous Lara Trim

  Since coming to SL, Lara has given at least 10 haircuts. Three words: future job security.
• Reverse culture shock is real... even when you're just in the capital and you walk into a supermarket. There are stores here in Freetown with WHOLE departments for goods!
• Remember when we bought 2 lobsters for about 50 cents? Today we bought 2 litres of vanilla ice cream for about 10 dollars. What a world we live in.

Gbessay Sabi Kuk! Part 3: Taquitos with Salsa

Post by Lara

26 November 2012

Our handy dandy Peace Corps cook book has several indispensable recipes that can be tweaked in more than one way to add a bit of variety to our cooking endeavors.  One such recipe is flour tortillas.  We have used this recipe to make bean burritos, fried pumpkin pies, fried taquitos, sopaipillas, tortilla chips, and quesadillas.  Kevin swears that we will never buy ready-made tortillas again because they’re so easy to make, and he gets to practice flipping them with no spatula, which makes him feel like a very talented chef. 

Our taco filling of choice is beans, because meat is generally expensive and/or unavailable here, and fish take a long time to clean and prepare.( For the same reason, we tend to eat vegetarian most days, just because it takes less time and money than preparing meat.)  We can walk into the market just about any day and buy a cup of pre-soaked beans, which take easily half the time to cook as plain dry beans.  Lately, cherry tomatoes have also been in the market, so we make homemade salsa to go on top.  Remember that time I mentioned that we have a lot more time here than we did in the states?  Thus, homemade tortillas, bean filling, and salsa isn’t out of the question on a typical week night.

Fried Bean Taquitos with Salsa

Make salsa at least an hour before you want to eat:

1 cup chopped fresh or canned tomatoes

1 small onion, chopped finely

The juice of ½ lime or about 1 TBSP vinegar

Hot pepper to taste (fresh or dried)

Salt and sugar to taste (we usually add about 2 pinches of salt and a spoonful of sugar)

Mix all ingredients in a container with a lid and let sit 1-6 hours before eating. Taste before serving and adjust seasonings accordingly. If you have the means, refrigerate.  We like to store our salsa in a sealed plastic container in one of our water buckets to keep it as cool as possible.

Prepare tortilla dough:

2 cups flour

1/4 cup oil

1 tsp. salt

2/3 cup hot water (not boiling)

Blend flour and oil with a fork until the mixture resembles fine meal or sand.  Stir together hot water and salt to dissolve the salt.  Add hot water to the flour, and knead dough for 2-3 minutes until smooth.  Divide dough into 12 equal balls, and let stand, covered, for at least 30 minutes. 

Next cook the beans:

1 cup pre-soaked beans or one can of beans (or if you have the patience of Job, ¾ cup dried beans, cooked forever until they’re tender enough to eat)

1 ½ cups water

2 TBSP to ½ cup butter or margarine

Salt, pepper, hot pepper, maggi, and herbs to taste

Put the beans and water, covered, on the stove and let cook until beans are mash-able, then uncover and cook until water just covers the beans. Start to mash the beans, adding in butter and stirring to avoid burning.  You may need to remove the beans from the heat now and then.  Go for a “refried bean” consistency, adding butter or letting the water cook off as necessary.  At this time, add whatever seasonings you want to the beans [note: don’t salt beans until they’re already tender, because salting the water before they are cooked will prevent them from soaking up enough water to get mushy].  When you’re satisfied with the texture and taste, take the beans off the heat and allow to cool for a few minutes.

Prepare taquitos:

Heat about ¼ inch of oil in a pot or frying pan.  One at a time, roll out the tortilla balls on a well-floured surface until they are as flat as you can get them, adding flour as necessary. Once they are flat, place a generous spoonful of bean filling on the tortilla, and wrap closed. Sometimes it helps to dab your finger in water and run it over the seal to make sure it’s closed.  Start by frying taquitos one at a time. If you get comfortable, then fry more than one at a time as your pan allows.  Place the taquito in the oil and fry until golden brown on the bottom, then flip.  When done, remove the taquito and place on paper to soak up excess oil.  When they’re finished, top with fresh salsa and any other toppings of choice and enjoy!  These can be reheated in the oven to keep them crispy.

Death and Loss

Post by Lara

9^th December 2012

When we made the decision to join the Peace Corps and volunteer in Sierra Leone for two years, we knew it would mean sacrificing two years spent near our families and friends in the states. We also knew this would mean we might not see some friends or family members again.  We couldn’t know, of course, that this loss would happen so quickly.  In the first 6 months we’ve spent in Salone, we have lost three people back at home—Lara’s Aunt Tracy, a young woman Lara worked with named Inga, and our high school band director Stephanie Minge.  Two deaths were sudden and unexpected; the other came at the end of a 7 year battle with cancer. In every case, we have found ourselves feeling even more helpless than we would feel if we were home, because at least there we can share some time with others who are mourning with us, and offer some support to our loved ones.  Here, we are literally half a world away.

In Sierra Leonean culture, death is an inescapable part of life. This country has one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world (in 2010, it was 890 deaths for every 100,000 live births), one of the highest infant mortality rates (76.64 deaths/1,000 live births) and one of the highest mortality rates for children under 5. Beyond that, it’s not uncommon for someone to die quite young by American standards, and for an unknown reason.  Generally when someone dies, if you ask what the cause was, the answer will be “sickness” or an accident. Sickness could be anything, and it likely wasn’t diagnosed, because doctors do not reach every part of the country and the cost of seeing a doctor or buying medicine prevents many people from making appointments.  Accidents are also common, and plenty of safety hazards are a part of everyday life here: careless motorbike drivers, poorly-maintained public vehicles, work accidents, falls, burns, etc.  For all these reasons, death is approached with more familiarity here than it was in our native culture. 

Safety hazards are a part of life here in Salone

In Sierra Leone, when a person dies, there are numerous cultural norms surrounding mourning.  First, the closest family members must announce a death before anyone is allowed to talk about the deceased person by name.  That means even if you know for a fact that a person has died, you must allow the family to make the announcement before you discuss it, tell others, or offer condolences.  If the person was part of a “secret society,” (of which many adults here are a part. There are secret societies for women, men, and both) then certain secret rituals have to be held as well.  Funerals are held within a few days just like in the states, and they vary according to the religion of the deceased.  Then, after 40 days, the family and friends will gather for a “40^th Day Memorial,” which is much like a funeral but includes a family meeting where the family members will settle all financial issues the deceased may have had, and plan for the financial future of the family members left behind.  It is culturally appropriate to give money to a grieving family both at a funeral and a 40^th Day Memorial.  Flowers are not appropriate, and are in fact quite confusing to mourners here. 

When it comes to animals, death is regarded similarly but with the added caveat that many animals are raised to be eaten eventually, so the three possible causes of death are sickness, accident, and slaughter.  We have so far experienced all 3 in our own lives here.  We introduced you to “dinner” in our Thanksgiving post—he was kept to be eaten, so he lived a normal chicken life in our yard until the day that we roasted him.  A few weeks after that, we received a hen as a gift.  We named her “Turtle” because her feathers were colored like a tortoise shell, and kept her for 4 or 5 days before she started to act despondent and stop eating.  We consulted some friends and found that she was sick and would need to be killed so none of the other chickens in our compound caught what she had.  A friend of ours took the hen to the river and disposed of her where she would hopefully not pass the disease to any other chickens.  Unfortunately, some of the other chickens succumbed anyway, leaving the neighbors with about half the chickens they started with.  Additionally, friends of ours are dealing with a sick dog that is on her last legs, probably with some form of cancer.   They have tried to keep her comfortable, but with very little information on what’s ailing her and few resources, there is not much to do.  The dog has been a good pet and guarded their residence for several years, so our friends certainly feel pain knowing that she is suffering.  I can’t help but recall the last year that my mom and dad spent with their dog, Laddie, and especially the few months leading up to putting him down.  I’m happy to say that many of the people in our community have an appreciation for dogs that is not always present in Sierra Leone, and I’m glad that dogs in our community are well-treated and missed when they’re gone.

The pets on our compound are certainly a part of our family.

Despite some of the obvious differences between grieving in this culture and in the U.S., a lot of parallels exist.  When I lost my Aunt Tracy, our host family sent their condolences back to my family at home. Our host mother and 4 host sisters are Catholic, so they hold many of the same traditions surrounding the loss of a loved one that I grew up with.  Sierra Leoneans also memorialize their loved ones in some familiar (and unfamiliar) ways—a school in Bo bears the name of the founder’s daughter who tragically died a few years ago; masses, sporting events, and other community gatherings are often dedicated to the memory of a late friend or sponsor; also, on the unfamiliar side (to us), it’s not uncommon to have t-shirts or other articles of clothing screen printed with the photo, name, birth and death dates of a deceased loved one. 

Ultimately, we’ve come to realize that death is always difficult, always sad, always too soon. The differences here are far outshined by the similarities in grieving and supporting others through difficult times.  In the same amount of time that we have lost Aunt Tracy, Inga, and Steph Minge, our host family has lost two members: my host father’s brother who was in his 40s, and his aunt who was a church elder and a grandmother.  Dealing with our losses on the other side of the ocean, we are comforted by friends and family here who support us and recognize the difficulties we are facing.  Above all, we hope that the positive impact we have here, the relationships we build, and the ways in which our Peace Corps experience will shape the rest of our lives will help ease the pain of loss, and we carry their memories with us on our journey.

The statistics in this article come from the Sierra Leone CIA factbook.