Morning at the Scrap Yard

Scrap metal is big business in Freetown.
The roads are gridlocked with cars that look like they have come here to die. Unbearable humidity levels soon turn any faded shine into flaky patches of rust. But determined welders and mechanics salvage every little piece of metal and engine parts they can get their hands on.

In Kissy, the massively overcrowded area east of the centre, they also do repairs and fix electronics out of a converted container. This morning, they were hard at work on the undercarriage of this carcass. I was told they were actually re-conditioning it with a view of having it back on the road in about a week.





The yard itself has the feel of a village, with houses overlooking the busy lot. The less fortunate live in shacks among the rotten cars, where they prepare food and sell it to hungry customers.





While we waited for my friend Michael's car speakers to be connected, we came across next month's lunch special...



And George W. Bush's next wheels...

Fishing Off Lumley Beach

Freetown sits on the northern edge of the peninsula, but a short ride around the base of the hills leads to a 4-km stretch of white sand and rolling waves. Lumley Beach faces west, which makes it a therapeutic spot to watch the sunset after a day in the humid and noisy bustle of the city centre.

The idea of an open-access beach devoid of exclusive resorts is an appealing one, especially in a place where relatively few can afford the 30-minute ride to the more secluded beaches down the coast. But unfortunately, the city council’s limited resources prevent it from enforcing proper sanitation measures. Regular garbage pick-up, the building and maintenance of public toilets, and the prohibition of dumping from foreign cargo ships all remain on the official “to do” list.

Traditional fishing is one of the lower-impact activities taking place on the beach, right next to swimmers, and under the intrigued eyes of mostly white onlookers. The work is very physical. It requires all involved to synchronize their efforts, pulling at the nets in successive motions. Timing the crew's movements with the incoming waves, a man calls out the rhythm.





When the nets are in, it is time for the wooden boats to come back to shore.



Again, nothing happens unless everybody leans into the task.



Women will now leave the beach for the market with buckets of fish on their heads. Tomorrow, they will start all over again.

Women In Media Sierra Leone (WIMSAL)

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the SL Association of Women Journalists (WIMSAL).




The evening celebration attracted more than 100 people, all supporters of women’s empowerment and defenders of their right to pursue a career in what remains a very patriarchal society.

WIMSAL has 80 members working in print, radio, or television, either in Freetown or in the provinces. Their emancipation is a step toward SL’s achievement of gender equality, one of the much hyped Millennium Development Goals.

Harriett Turay, president of the 50/50 Group, a local NGO collaborating with the Ministry of Social Welfare’s Gender Desk to increase opportunities for women across the country, was a guest speaker at the event. She told the women of WIMSAL that they would be tomorrow's role-models, and that their names would be written down in history.

Her counterpart at the Gender Desk, a feisty woman by the name of Susan Sesay, deplored the fact that the candidates for next week’s election of the SL Association of Journalists (SLAJ) executive committee are all men. She encouraged WIMSAL members to run for a position next election, in two years. Repeating the ministry’s official slogan, she told the audience: “Men of quality do not fear women equality.”

Today, I am giving a workshop on the 2007 Gender Acts with a representative of the International Rescue Committee, an NGO that played a major role in drafting the new laws. One of the young journalists who attended the WIMSAL party said she would put her name up for SLAJ's vice-president position next time. When I asked why she wasn't considering the top job, she said that tradition dictates that a man should lead. Another student added that he thought women should get involved in SLAJ... in 10 years.

Back at the official ceremony, the next one to address the audience was Bernadette Cole, president of the Independent Media Commission. An authoritarian and opinionated woman, Mrs. Cole is also the head of Fourah Bay College’s Mass Communication Department. She complimented WIMSAL for having merged with the country’s other association of women journalists to create a single, unified body.

Established as a result of a workshop organized and funded by the Iranian Embassy, WIMSAL is hoping to recruit new members, and to continue advocating for better employment conditions and increased responsibilities for women within newsrooms. The event Chair, Sylvia Lynden, is the only woman owner of a newspaper. She says she started Awareness Times because she wanted to improve the quality of print reporting. But she is a controversial figure whose paper, like most others, often ignores basic rules of media ethics.

In the near future, her competition will come from familiar faces.

Community Forum

We held our first Community Forum this week. The theme was: The Role of the Media in Raising Awareness of Human Rights Within the Community. About 30 journalists and NGO representatives made their way up Tower Hill to the British Council Hall, a bright and spacious venue overlooking the eastern section of town.

The event was billed as a forum with three guest speakers: Aisha Ibrahim, a language studies lecturer and feminist scholar at Fourah Bay College, Charlie Hughes, a local human rights activist now working as a consultant for DFID (the U.K.’s Department For International Development), and Fatimata Carlton-Hanciles, a lawyer at the Special Court for SL.



I had decided the format would consist of brief presentations by the panelists, a moderated debate, and questions from participants. But whenever an NGO puts on an event, most people refer to the gathering as a workshop. This is what they are used to from us: presentations, flip charts, handouts, pens, certificates to show they attended, and of course, a meal with soft drinks. In fact, it is generally agreed that nobody will show up to an event that does not include food.

The main points to come out of the discussion were:

> The media does not follow up on initial stories involving human rights abuses

> NGOs need to build partnerships with journalists, help them develop specific beats such as health, justice, education

> While women journalists have no role-models in the media, there are plenty of prominent women in SL they can look up to for inspiration

> It is too easy for individuals with moderate financial means to start their own newspaper and then use it to fuel personal rivalries

> Journalists need more information on the three Gender Laws enacted last year

> The Official Secrets and Seditious Libel Acts should be abolished because they intimidate journalists and limit press freedom

Following the forum, a reporter from Culture Radio came up to ask me a handful of questions, the answers to which he duly recorded for the evening broadcast.

The next day, the random nature of attribution and quoting, an unfortunately prevalent aspect of journalism in SL, became very apparent.

Only one of the papers, The New Citizen, ran a story on the forum. While this was a bit disappointing, I was nevertheless eager to read the quarter-page article. It started well, then mentioned me as the JHR trainer and debate moderator. So far, so good. The next paragraph referred to a comment I had made. The paraphrasing was close in terms of the general meaning, but it also embellished the message with typical NGO-speak (capacity-building, stakeholders, etc.) which I had made a point of avoiding.

Then I was quoted. Words I had never said. I might have expressed something approaching what was on the page, had the reporter interviewed me. But he didn’t.

We still have a lot of work to do.

God Is Everywhere - No, Really!

They will leave no soul unturned!
The number of churches and ministries and mosques in Freetown is beyond belief – literally. Banners inviting followers and new converts to faith conferences and meetings and celebrations with fiery sermons by charismatic preachers are plastered on walls and strung up at every roundabout, or turntable as they are called here.





Estimates vary as to the prevalence of SL’s major religions. According to some reports, there are six Muslims for each Christian. Others indicate that indigenous beliefs and practices guide almost half the population. It is impossible, and arguably pointless, to try to sort it all out as most people tend to adapt and integrate traditional teachings and institutionalized dogma in ways that make sense to them. Call it the great melting pot in the sky.

As far as declared Christian groups are concerned, a myriad denominations have established centres in Freetown and in the provinces. They run schools and health clinics, organize vocational training workshops for unemployed youths, operate radio stations, and shepard a number of other faith-based initiatives.

In general, they seem to offer hope, which is nothing to look down on in a place where close to 70% live below the poverty line, and where each woman on average gives birth to six children. But churches seem to be sending mixed messages. I was recently implored by an educated male friend to rethink my decision not to have children, even though I am 40 and not in a relationship with a man. In a casual conversation with a stranger, a colleague mentioned having no kids. She was immediately reminded that ‘the Bible says you must procreate.’

From a societal standpoint, with life expectancy at 41, encouraging women to keep having children is counter-productive. When parents die, who will feed them and put them through school? It is also dangerous: in SL, women who go through eight or more pregnancies are 1,250 times more likely to die in childbirth than British mothers bearing their eighth child.

But the churches keep proselytizing and people seem to take comfort in their generous counseling. I met a woman last night who said she used to be a depressed chain-smoker and a heavy drinker. Last year, she found God and he helped her get rid of all her nasty habits. She now goes to church every week and listens to the Believers Broadcasting Network (BBN), a Christian radio station. Next to her, another woman, beer and cigarette in hand, told me she was resisting all attempts to make her change her ways. They remain best friends.

Back on the streets of Freetown, almost every poda-poda (mini bus) has a slogan praising God or Allah painted on it. Vendors sit behind their displays of framed 'photos' of Jesus, who looks rather chipper considering the heat. Overhead, while some banners appeal to a sense of self-empowerment...



Others use more graphic and apocalyptic language to tempt unsuspecting pedestrians...

Obama! Obama!

Witnessing the election of Barack Obama from Sierra Leone has been quite a treat. While I longed for the saturation coverage of the U.S. networks and cable channels, the enthusiasm generated in Freetown made up for the absence of Rachel Maddow, Donna Brazile, and other favourite commentators.

But I have to admit I would have given just about anything to be back in Grant Park on Nov. 4, 2008!



People here are huge Obama supporters. For obvious reasons, they believe American foreign policy under his leadership would prove more favourable to Africa. They figure he would at least know where it is, and what it is. Newsweek’s recent revelation that Sarah Palin “didn’t understand” that Africa is a continent is deeply disturbing.

In the days leading up to the vote, Obama’s name was on everybody’s lips. BBC Africa was in full campaign coverage mode. Monday evening, our group of ex-pat and local runners went on its weekly ramble around Freetown. At one point, as we made our way around crowded backyards, young boys on a porch began to shout “Obama, Obama!”

On election night, I attended a reception at the U.S Embassy, where Ambassador June Carter Perry addressed a crowd of more than a hundred guests. Whatever the outcome at the polls, a historical precedent would be set, she said, also stressing that America would emerge as a united nation, firmly rooted in democratic principles, and looking to the next generation for inspiration. Later, one of her assistants announced the results of the mock voting booth, where non-American citizens had been invited to cast a paper ballot. Obama had won in a landslide.

Following the reception, a colleague and I got a ride back in town on the shuttle bus taking the large day-shift squad of security guards down Signal Hill. Although their conversations were mostly in Krio, it was easy to get a sense of their enthusiasm for Obama’s chances of becoming the first African American U.S. president. Their admiration for him appears boundless, their belief in his power to change the world, unshakeable. Only one of them said he was a McCain fan. His reason had something to do with the Middle East. The others boisterously argued with him, asking if he wanted to be sent to Iraq.

A few hours later, some of us watched the coverage on NBC via the U.S. Armed Forces satellite service. By 1 a.m. local time, Pennsylvania was called. When Ohio and then Florida also turned blue, it became clear that the voodoo vote counts of the past would not taint nor invalidate Obama’s victory. As the sun came up in West Africa, tv sets and radios were tuned to Grant Park. In the heat of the night, the world had indeed changed. Everybody knew it. Nobody missed the old days. I suspect even that security guard will get used to the new paradigm.

At 9 a.m. on Wednesday, my motorcycle driver called to say “Hey Marie-Jo, Congratulations!” He knows I am Canadian, but on that day I didn’t mind being lumped in with a country that has finally opted for progress and inclusiveness over fear and division.

The local papers went to print well before the first polls closed. One of them stretched its deadline and put Obama’s win in New Hampshire on the front page. But on Thursday, articles about the new President Elect filled the news and commentary sections. Sierra Leone’s president, Ernest Bai Koroma, released a statement of congratulations.





While we think of “elect” as “in-waiting,” people here focus on the plain definition of the word. My journalism students were fascinated by McCain’s concession speech and his promise to collaborate with the new administration. In a country that last year saw its first peaceful transition of power in over a decade, young adults are learning new political habits. For them, “elect” simply means “legitimate,” a rare and precious assurance that the inauguration of a new leader will not lead to civil unrest and violence.

By embodying the democratic process’s transformative potential, a victorious Barack Obama has already begun to influence the world community. This week in Freetown, the daily miseries of life in one of the world’s least developed countries were put on hold. But in January, when the Harmattan wind begins to blow, people will expect it to bring change. Africa is used to waiting. Maybe this time it won’t be in vain.

Freetown Hash Run

Last Monday, I took part in my first ever Hash Run.

Started in 1938 by a group of British colonial officers in Kuala Lumpur, the non-competitive runs are now held weekly in 178 countries across all continents. The friendly gatherings attract a mix of ex-pats and locals for a few miles on the roads and a few drinks afterwards.

The name comes from the simple food the British officers used to eat in Malaysian thatched houses, from where the runs would begin.

There are now 1,878 chapters, or kennels, whose members, called Harriers, chase a lead runner, or hare, around a different improvised course every Monday night.

On Friday, the Freetown group organized a special Halloween edition, complete with drinks, food, and a t-shirt or tank top. About 50 people turned out for the scenic dash along Lumley Beach.



We left from the Beach Apple bar, ran all the way to the Royal Hall bar at the Family Kingdom complex, where we had a beer in the drizzle. On the way back, we stopped midway at Chez Nous for another beer, before returning to the Beach Apple for music, hot food, and a special treat from Bliss Bakery, one of the run’s sponsors.



I met Michael, Becky, and Laura from the U.S. Embassy. We talked about the challenges facing SL, the Koroma government’s ongoing efforts to extend the power grid to many of Freetown’s neighbourhoods, the buzz around Tuesday’s U.S. election, and of course, the spectacular intellectual vacuousness of the Republican ticket.



Like everybody else, I run for the opportunity to socialize as much as for the physical benefits.