4 Months to Go

Post by Lara

28 March 2014

OK- so even though we don’t officially know when we’re flying out, we were informed that the first possible departure date will be July 28^th…which is to say that at the earliest we’re here for 4 more months of Peace Corps service before our time is done.   We’re rounding out our 21^st month in Sierra Leone (not counting about 3 weeks of traveling and being with family in the US), and I have to say, we’ve gotten quite comfortable here.   Still, there are some parts of Salone life we haven’t fully adjusted to, and probably never will. Here are some thoughts:

Things we’re used to:

• Bucket baths – We still don’t like cold water though—we bathe with warm water. Which I would say makes us spoiled, except that we go through the trouble of heating our water over a fire every day)
• The heat – Well, honestly, the heat is still too much for us at times, but we’re pretty much over being surprised by it.  March is the hottest, driest month of the year, with highs above 100 and unrelenting sunshine from 10am to 4 pm most days.  We still duck and cover in the middle of the day, but so does everyone else.
• Passing time – The pace of life in Sierra Leone is so. much. slower than what we were used to in the states.  We’re in the groove of it though. Today, for instance, we both proctored exams in the morning and got home by 1pm, then ate lunch, read for an hour, slept for an hour, read for another hour, and hopped down to AYM to play some darts and Wii while charging our computer (ok—you can call us spoiled now).  After this, we’ll take 2 hours cooking dinner, which itself involves a fair bit of down time, and then watch some TV shows before bed.  Sound leisurely? It’s basically our typical day at site.
• Traveling takes forever – Specifically, it pretty much always takes a day to get somewhere and a day to get home, if not more.  We have a meeting in Bo, 52 miles away, on Tuesday. We’re leaving Monday, spending 2 nights, and traveling back Wednesday. We could do it in 2 days, maybe, but for the sake of our butts we’re willing to pay an extra night in a hotel.
• Using a flashlight from 7pm to 7am – It’s weird coming from Ohio to live in the tropics because there are the changes you expect—heat, humidity, bananas—and then there are some things you don’t expect- like the fact that the days hardly change in length.  It’s pretty much always dark by 7:30pm, and it’s just a part of our routine now to go grab our headlights and light a candle around that time.  Darkness is pretty normal for us now—and you might not believe how much you notice the phases of the moon or how cloudy it is when there are no streetlights to get in your way.  It’s really something.
• Bargaining – This is a fun one, because I think Kevin may have found it novel at first and I found it pretty uncomfortable. But after nearly 2 years, we’ve come to understand that sometimes (scratch that—most of the time) you have to bargain to pay a halfway fair price.  Kevin’s very comfortable talking price for a while, commenting on the shabbiness of the item for sale or the relative ease of the work we’re paying for.  I’m less comfortable with it, so I usually pay more—but neither of us would be caught dead paying Le 10,000 (about $2) for a cab ride across Bo, or Le 20,000 for a watermelon in Freetown.  We know enough about what things cost and what kinds of markups people will put on goods if a foreigner wants them to never accept the first price for any major purchase, even if it sounds fair to us at first blush. 

Things we’re still not used to:

• Dry season dust and rainy season mud – One thing you can say about Ohio is that with cars to get you where you’re going, paved roads, sidewalks, air conditioning, window screens, and all the conveniences of modern life, you can remain pretty well insulated against just about any weather. Also, we don’t have 6 months of hot, humid rain followed by 6 months of dry, hot sun to contend with. That means that unless you’re working or playing outside, you can get through your whole day without getting dirt under your fingernails or mud on your shoes. Not so here, my friends.   I’m not afraid to admit that American Lara did not shower every day, and didn’t wash her hair every time she showered.  Here, that’s just not an option—we scrub visible dirt off ourselves every single day, sometimes multiple times per day. 
• Lying and being lied to – Say what you will about cultural differences, but this is one we have a whole lot of trouble understanding.  In Salone, it’s just not the worst thing in the world to tell a lie, even when you know the person you’re telling it to knows you’re lying…even when that person is your boss, or your close friend, or your teacher.  In fact, I think it’s safe to say most Sierra Leoneans would rather lie to you, even if it’s an obvious lie, than tell a disappointing truth.  I’ve explained to a lot of our friends that Kevin and I don’t lie to each other, and some of them are downright baffled by this.  In this instance, we definitely prefer our native culture to the culture we’ve been living in.  That’s not to say that Americans don’t lie, of course—it’s just that we don’t consider it so normal or forgivable. 
• Staying up late on weeknights – Have I mentioned we’re old souls?  I think almost everyone we know thinks it’s odd that we turn in between 8 and 8:30pm, opting for our parlour if we’re reading or just getting on into bed and watching TV for an hour before we go to sleep.  We usually can hear the neighbors talking and interacting until after 10, and some nights well beyond that.  Still, by 7am it’s time to get up and start your day, so we’re only too happy to shut the world out by 8 and call it a night.
• Offering what we’re eating to others – Culturally, it’s rude here to eat in front of someone without first offering them some of what you’re eating. 9 times out of 10, the people you offer it to will say “thank you” and not take any, and then you’re clear to go ahead and eat in their presence.  But that 1 time out of 10, the person will gladly accept and then eat some of your food (and we’re not talking potato chips—we’re talking rice and sauce.)  We don’t mind being on the receiving end of this offer—I’m very good at saying “thank you” and walking away—but I am not at all good at offering my food to someone, so we usually solve this cultural dilemma by never eating in front of people, except when everyone’s eating.  That hasn’t been the perfect solution though—both Kevin and I have had friends or colleagues comment on our unwillingness to share.  The funny part is, we know they probably won’t accept the food we offer anyway, but on the off chance they will, I’d rather just steer clear of the whole situation. If that makes me selfish, then I’m selfish.  I’d honestly rather buy you your own darn lunch than give you 3 bites of mine.
• The amazing generosity of friends – In our first few months here, because of the language and cultural barriers we were dealing with, I’m sure we had no idea how many people begged from us.  As we got more used to Krio, Mende, and cultural cues, we started to get really annoyed at constantly being asked to feed people, give them money, or “send for” them (bring them gifts).  In fact, we got pretty upset about it on numerous occasions before we finally came to realize that this is how everyone here interacts—it’s not just because we’re “rich white people”.  When that started to become clear and also as we made closer friends here, we got more generous—buying little gifts for people, dropping a coin into someone’s hand now and then, helping someone buy medicine or food, etc. What we didn’t realize would result is that this same generosity that was asked of us has come in our direction too—sometimes unprovoked—by Sierra Leoneans. The number of pineapples, papayas, coconuts, breadfruits, limes, peanuts, and other produce that’s been given to us is astounding.  It’s also not uncommon for our friends with shops to add another scoop of rice or an extra packet of cookies to our order, just on the basis of friendship.  One close friend that we’ve helped with medical issues sent us 2 pineapples, 2 live chickens, and about 10 lbs of grapefruits all in one week.  It’s humbling to live somewhere where you see people getting by with leaky roofs, flip flops that have been mended more than once, and no electric lights to read or study by at night, and have those same people show up at your door with a gift.  It certainly goes a long way to make us feel loved.

With only 4 months to go in our service, we know already that leaving here will be full of highs and lows—happiness at getting to see our families and friends again, sadness at leaving friends and family behind here, relief and accomplishment for sticking it out for two years, worry over how some friends will fare in our absence, excitement at the prospect of hot showers and electricity, and probably just about every emotion in between.  Sierra Leone has certainly left a permanent mark on us, and we already talk about when and how we’ll manage to come back and visit.  For now, though, we might be focusing a bit more heavily on things like ice cream, smart phones, and getting jobs that will require more than 4 hours of work out of us each day.  Either way—July, here we come!

The Chicken or the Egg

Post by Lara

27th March 2014

So we may have mentioned once or twice on the blog, and on Facebook, and on the phone, and perhaps even in person, that we raise chickens here in Sierra Leone.  We kind of love our chickens.   It started small—one day in October or so of 2012, we told our neighbor Millicent that we were interested in keeping a hen or two.  The next day, Milly called me over, pointed to an adolescent hen of hers, and said, “This one is yours.”  We decided to name her Dot (mostly after the character from Animaniacs—at the time, we were in a cartoonish mood), and built a house to keep her.  Dot started laying eggs soon, and not long after that we bought a second hen named Penny (A BBT reference, if you’re keeping track), also just starting to lay.  Within a month or two we had something like 15 chickens.  It took a while to get into the swing of things, but by now we feel like seasoned chicken ranchers and we’ve settled into a comfortable routine.  It turns out, I have a lot to say about raising chickens…so in the interest of keeping it short and sweet, this post will deal with just one bit—the egg.

Originally, we had wanted to keep chickens for eggs, which cost about a quarter each here and occasionally are rotten when we buy them in town.  (Little-known-fact: eggs keep fresh, unrefrigerated, for up to a month!)  Keeping our own hens seemed like a great plan—while they’re laying, they’re worth about a quarter a day. Well for a few reasons, that didn’t work out. We learned quickly that most Sierra Leoneans don’t eat the eggs their chickens lay here—I’m not really sure why, except that an egg goes for a quarter and a full sized chicken can sell for up to $5, so perhaps the margin is too wide to justify cracking open those eggs that might grow into a handful of meat in a few months.  Because of this hesitancy to eat home-laid eggs, most of the chickens here seem to have been pretty well-bred for broodiness, or motherly qualities.  When hens start laying they look for a quiet spot and stack them up until there are about 8 eggs in the nest, then sit on them until they hatch.  If the eggs disappear from where they’re laying them, hens tend to go find another place to lay—and they can get creative, let me tell you. 

So the issue of figuring out how to harvest eggs while not scaring our hens away from the convenient chicken house led us not to harvest so many—and then we got acquainted with the giant-bundle-of-cute that is a clutch full of freshly-hatched baby chicks.  Dot’s first hatching gave us 6 little feather balls. They peeped softly as Dot kept them warm, and tripped over their own feet as they tried to copy their mama and pick up bits of rice from the dirt.  In accordance with local tradition, we dyed them all blue a few weeks later (see our post titled Mauve Chickens), which supposedly keeps the hawks from eating them.  It wasn’t long before Penny also had a clutch, and we were surrounded by baby chickens all day long.  For us, keeping mama hens has worked out well because every few months we have a new batch of chickens getting big enough to eat or start laying for themselves, which means we have a constant supply of chickens getting old enough to leave the nest.  What to do with all these chickens?  Easy!  There’s not much that a Sierra Leonean friend appreciates more than a feathery bundle of live chicken as a gift.  We tend to give away all our grown male chickens and often keep the females, or give them to someone we know will let them lay some eggs and raise some babies before making chicken soup. 

So there you have it.  When it comes to whether to eat the egg or the chicken, most Sierra Leoneans feel that the chicken’s a better deal.  Because of the difficulties associated with trying to break from that way of life, we decided to just join the crowd and err on the side of more baby chicks rather than omelets.  We still buy our eggs in town, which also helps our friends who sell them.  Keeping chickens, in our estimation, is worth it even without the fresh eggs to fry every morning.

Houses in Salone

Post by Lara

15 March 2014

A while ago, someone requested some photos of houses here.  Wait no more! Here's the scoop:

This is probably the simplest kind of house we see here-- it's made of homemade mud bricks with a thatched roof. These houses tend not to last as long as others, but if they're well-made and kept up they do alright. 

This house is mud brick as well, but with a tin roof (they call it zinc here, but it's most likely not zinc). The metal roof gets very loud in the rain, but presumably does a better job than thatch.  Most houses have a verandah under the roof, and that's where we spend our hot March afternoons (it tends to get up past 100 degrees most days, with high humidity)

This house is a bit of a compromise between the cheaper and more expensive options-- it's made of mud bricks, but faced with cement. The cement holds the bricks in place, and since the bricks were handmade probably by the family building the house, it was much less expensive to build than a concrete house would be.  Building a house here is not a huge civil engineering feat-- you don't have to figure out wiring or plumbing, or dig a cellar. What's left? 4 walls and a roof, basically.

This is an extra nice home being built at the riverside in our town by a Sierra Leonean who apparently lives in England.  It may be run as a guest house (an inn) once it's complete.  It's constructed off cement blocks, with metal doors and a metal roof.  This type of construction is built to last.

Here's another very nice home that belongs to the chiefdom speaker in our area (he's a big wig-- see the Jeep out front?)  This house was also built of cement blocks, and has tile floors on the inside as well as metal bars on the windows. It's one of the nicest houses in our little town.

...but this one's our favorite. This is our house (the right half of the building is, anyway).  It was built in the 1950s by the American and English missionaries who build my school.  Another teacher's family occupies the other half.  We have big metal doors, big windows with metal bars over them, and not one but two verandahs, not to mention the shade of 50-year-old mango, avacado, nem, and orange trees. It's a pretty lovely place to be.