Sierra Leone Blog Bites

The not-so-problem problem with my Tailor Hassan!

2011-06-17T02:37:00.000+01:00

If you were to ask me of the people I will miss the most when I leave Sierra Leone, I can draw up a sizable list of people from my daily life in Sierra Leone. One of these people is Hassan, the local tailor that works at the top of the Ngobeh Drive, on a road that can at the best of times be mistaken as a riverbed.

Hassan is a lovely man. Hassan always smiles at me when I walk up the rickety steps to his shop and always chuckles, Whenever I see him, he says vibrantly, ‘Banki, you’ve been away, where?’ with a careless flick of his hand in an unknown direction. Hassan on a few occasions has made me smocked dresses that are lovely and always a treat to wear, both casually and to dressy occasions. Hassan sews clothes for Le 25,000, which is just over three quid. Hassan also ensures that if you need measurements, adjustments and alterations to your outfit, he will personally make visits to the comfort of your home – even if it means he is chased in an out by our crazy dogs…

But amidst all these praises, there is one problem with Hassan my tailor. Hassan never does what you ask him to do! Hassan will always make modifications to your design that you could never have conceived in your fashion conscious brain. At times, he will create a masterpiece so abstruse, that even the cleverest mind would find it difficult to retrace the steps back to its original pattern. Many times, I have taken a patterned material to Hassan and told him, I want this and that, and when I collect it a couple of day later, I have an outfit completely different to what I asked for. My favourite phrase, when I see him is now, ‘Hassan (in an exasperated voice), this isn’t what I drew?!!’ He then stares at me with a perplexed and guilty look to that akin to that of a cheeky kid who was caught cheating in a test he didn’t even pass. He then pleads with me and says, ‘don’t worry, I’ll fix it. I know exactly what you mean’!

Last week, I asked him to complement a purple cotton print with black material, but Hassan instead used blue. When I asked him why he did not use the colour I asked for, he looked at the material all shocked and exclaimed, ‘but look, the material has blue/black in it. So I used that!’ Then I asked him to line the skirt, as it was quite see-through, to which he gave it back to me lined to just below the waist! Again when I gave it back to him, he looked like it was practically impossible that such a confusion had been made. Lydia can attest to this look!

After all this, you may ask, ‘why do you go back to him?’ Well even after all of the drama of interesting and yet ridiculous mutations of perfectly good designs, the thing is, you just can’t stay mad at Hassan. Hassan is too lovely to hold a grudge against. He never gets angry or upset when you tell him what he’s done wrong, and he always pleads to do better in a way in which even you kick yourself, as if you were the one who got the idea all wrong. And eventually – often after multiple returns – he always brings out an outfit you can wear proudly and turn heads in. Besides, the price for the ‘experience’ really is very reasonable.

So I will miss crying out, ‘HASSAN’, and getting clothes custom made and walking past his shop, just to find him calling my name and waving emphatically with the purest smile. Good Old Tailor Hassan!

The Ferrous Let-down!

2011-06-09T16:27:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, I was very excited. Today I said, I was finally going to do my bit for society and give blood.

I had been told I could give blood here, since the blood bank in the hospitals here are always short on blood because not enough people are willing to or able to donate. So I made a decision, I was going to give blood before I leave Salone… on the conditions that someone give blood with me and they also test for my blood group…

-----------------------2008 – Trying to give blood…

Blood letting has been something that I had been extremely anxious about, since my second year in UCL, where some friends an I went excitedly to a mobile NHS blood drive. My friend Funke sat down and the nurse began to poke around for her vein. All of a sudden, the nurse poked at one of her rhythmically fast pumping veins and blood spurted on poor Funke’s jeans and to our horror, on the nurse’s face.

Now, I’m not squeamish or scared of needles, but you can see why all four friends backed away through the exit, handing back the half-filled forms in quick succession. Since that day, I was a little – shall we say – mistrustful of unknown docs and nurses who wanted to stick a needle in my arm.

--------------------------------------------2010 – Trying to give blood…

So when I got this placement in Sierra Leone, I had to receive about 9 prophylactic injections which should keep me healthy in Salone (So far so good. I’m still well!). One thing that was missing however was my blood group. I didn’t know what it was, so I was advised by Interhealth to give blood. Good idea, I thought, then I conjured up the image of blood flying at the nurses face and I thought, ‘erm… maybe not!’ But I swallowed my insecurities and completed the red and white form. I held on to it and decided to give blood before I travelled…

But then I got the flu and had to wait a month. Then after that month, I excitedly filled in the form again and decided to definitely do it this time…. But then I got ill… again… And since it was 6 days before I was travelling to Salone, I knew I would not be able to give blood in the UK again for another year after I returned. Slightly upset and put out without my blood group, I travelled to Salone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------2011- Trying to give blood….

So this week, my friend Fred nicely agreed to come with me and since he gives blood at the Ola During Children’s Hospital regularly anyway, I felt reasonably safe. We arrived at the blood services department and after a slightly painful prick of my finger, it was dabbed on a dish with 3 circular grooves with A, B, O inscribed on it. My finger was then squeezed, ejecting some of my blood into a clear object, which was then placed into a Hb count checking machine (obviously there is a more accurate and scientific name for this!). After a few minutes, I was told my blood group was A+, but sadly, ‘the lower limit for a woman is 12.3, you are 10.7, so sorry you can’t give blood today!’

So, turns out I am slightly too anaemic to give blood. Another let-down! At least I know my blood group now!

No one can say that I haven’t tried!

Freetown VS London… City change or trade?

2011-06-04T18:35:00.002+01:00

Today I did a very nostalgic/strange thing. I nipped into the local supermarket to buy a pint of milk for breakfast tomorrow morning. It wasn’t till I got out of the store that I caught myself and thought, Gosh, I would have done the exact same thing on a Thursday evening in London.

So it got me thinking… how much of my lifestyle has actually changed while I have been out here in Sierra Leone? Bear in mind that this is the time for true and deep reflection as I prepare to finish my placement and return to my life in the UK.

So, I decided to make a table of the similarities and differences between my lifestyle in the UK and in Freetown.

Topic	London	Freetown
Waking Up	Wake at 6.30 to beat traffic on the S. Circular	Wake up at 7.45am (post fixing of Wilks Road)
Walking down my road	Wander past my neighbours, wondering when the people from 256 moved out and show surprise that the woman from 258 has a baby, when I didn’t know she was pregnant	Greet my neighbours as I pass, mostly with their first names, and have regular conversations with Mr footballer at the end of the raod, Isata who works next door and Hassan the local tailor.
Getting to work	Take a crowded double-decker bus or cycle happily to work	Take an overcrowded poda-poda with no rear view mirror into work, a little scared and anxious the whole way
Exercise	Go home... swimming pool is in the other direction!	Stop at the UN pool for a well needed, cool dip after work
Chilling after work	Sit at an overcrowded bar/restaurant, wondering when its holiday time	Have moonlit dinner at Roy’s overlooking the waves crashing into the beach
Watching movies	Go to the Cinema and watch an exciting movie with comfy seats and surround sound	Sneak into a slightly shady Lebanese owned DVD store or movie share with friends
Getting Post	Receive post 2-3 days later courtesy of the Royal Mail	Good Luck... I simply haven't received one since September... even though I know its been sent!
Food Shopping	Shop at my local Sainsbury’s or Tesco’s	Shop at the Local Supermarkets St. Mary’s or Foodland
Clothes Shopping	Overspend at Topshop, Zara and Other high street stores	Overspend... oops! At the local tailor who makes fab clothes!
Internet	Broadband wireless every where... duh!	Spend at least 6 hours a week at the Internet Cafe.
Currency	Spend in tens, i.e. average meal costs £15-20	Spend in thousands, i.e. average meal costs Le 20,000 – 40,000
Power and Water	It’s always there…	Savour every moment of it; the most apt description of it is, ‘here one moment, gone the next’!
Music	Stop off at the your local music store or download off Itunes or Spotify	Lean out of your car/taxi window, and a young man selling compilations of the latest Salone tracks for a Le5,000 (72p), will run over
Calls	Monthly plan, preferring to make calls to friends	Mostly send text messages to friends, calls only when absolutely necessary – and that’s why I got a QWERTY phone!

There are many things in my daily life has changed, however I have noticed that there are a few things I have settled into that are not so different to the way I functioned back at home. I am still doing similar things, only the process and the environment in which I am doing them are drastically different. The difference is mostly in the regularity at which each action occurs.

I have concluded that in spite of the difficulties of living in Sierra Leone and the extreme heat, there are many amazing things here that I will definitely miss and try to incorporate into my life at home. For one, I will try to get to know my neighbours more (because its just nice), exercise more and appreciate the fact that in the UK, we get constant electricity and water!

And, THAT’s why there is a policy!

2011-05-21T16:56:00.001+01:00

Last week, I finally got the chance to get out of Freetown with work and travel up-line. The Sierra Leone Nurses Association runs an annual conference and scientific symposium to celebrate International Nurses Day, to which this year’s event was to be held in Bo, the second largest city in Sierra Leone. I was quite excited and got packed without delay, once I heard that we would be going on the Wednesday, which was great, because the conference started on Thursday morning and there is nothing worse than having to wake up at 4am to attend an 8 hour conference.

I arrived at the Faculty of Nursing to meet with my line manager, where she was busy organising the bus loads of students and nurses, making sure everything ran smoothly. I quickly settled into her office, getting things ready for my recruitment sessions, which I was to manage at the conference. Time quickly flew by, as I waited to depart from Freetown. Looking at the clock, it was 13:30pm. I thought to myself, there is still time. There is not need to worry about going beyond the time set in the policy…

See, there is a VSO policy which states that a VSO volunteer should not travel in the dark, therefore should avoid travel which exceeds 17:00 and no travel must be begun from Freetown past 16:30pm.

It was now 15:00 and one of the large busses had lost a tire somewhere up-country and was currently at a garage being placed and as I was travelling with the person tirelessly trying to organise the situation, I was still seated in the office twiddling my thumbs thinking, ‘Gosh, its getting late.’ Finally at 15:53pm, the Admin Assistant from my office comes in and tells me its finally time to go. I breathed a sigh of release as had it gone past 16:30, I would have had to refuse to go…

Now, I had been advised that it takes 2.5 hours to get to Bo, so by my calculation, we should reach Bo before it got dark. But forty minutes later, we were still stuck on Kissy Road, tailing a funeral procession on its way to Kissy Cemetery. Luckily, not too long later, we pulled out onto Bai Bureh road and picked up speed. For the next few hour I alternated between humming along to my ipod and reading ‘The Constant Gardener’ by John le Carre. We even stopped by the Salone Tesco (below) to get drinks.

The tip here is to never listen to those who say it takes 2 hours to get to get to Bo, because its 19:31 and I’m still sitting, front seat and filming the hills and trees, and I realise its almost dark. And then it starts to rain and it gets even darker. But at this point, its still exciting… you know, the return of the rainy season, going further up country than I had been before…

But then a few miles after Makonde, it became really hard to see. It had been raining heavily during the second hour of the journey, and this combined with the intense heat of the tarred roads meant that steam began to rise off the road; up to 2 meters off the ground. Now, in the daytime, this is all quite exciting, watching condensation at work, however at almost 8pm in the dark, I am starting to freak out a little. It felt like we were travelling through the vortex of space and time; our car lights reflecting on the almost ghost like wisps rising well above our heads. Being in the passengers seat of the car, I had the benefit of the same experience as the driver, so I was very worried – in fact at the edge of my seat – because I couldn’t see past 2 metres on the road. What’s worse, because our lights reflected back at us, there was no way to tell whether we were on the right side of the road, or even worse weather a car was passing in the opposite direction.

The wisps would appear and disappear almost as unexpectedly as seeing another car on the road, so the car spent almost a half hour accelerating and jerking to a slower speed. Then my mum called and I explained the situation to her in Yoruba. Since Yoruba can be more direct at times than English, my explanation that we were in the dark and in the middle of nowhere did not inspire any confidence of how OK I was actually feeling. I managed to giggle and set her mind at rest (not really), and by the time we got to the outskirts of Bo, I was seeing the funny side of it. As I tumbled out of the car and walked tiredly into the hotel twenty minutes later, it occurred to me that a lot of Sierra Leoneans do this kind of journey in the dark all the time (some busses don’t leave the capital till 12 midnight!), but this was not a risk that I was ever willing to take again. It was not anyone’s fault, since many unavoidable factors played into our delay, however I know fully realise why there is a VSO policy on travel and will not be taking it for granted again!

DON’T EAT THAT STREET MEAT!!! and other latest Salone tales…

2011-05-04T11:06:00.001+01:00

I wrote this on the eve of the 50th Anniversary, but did not post it, but i thought I might as well publish it. Enjoy!

As it comes up to the 50th Anniversary on Independence for Sierra Leone, we have been noticing some grand changes in Freetown. Some Amazing, some interesting, informative and exciting. Some hilarious and downright ridiculous at the same time. These boundaries are in no way mutually exclusive, therefore a lot of the changes straddle them all. As the title suggests, I believe one of them is the police crackdown on rogue street traders… but I’ll get to that in point 4. (See all pictures at the bottom of the page)

1. Green White Blue… EVERYWHERE!

If you live in England and think the population has gone overboard with the union jack bunting and the endless Kate and William wedding memorabilia (yes, I’ve been reading the BBC news), then you certainly have not been to Freetown! As the pictures below suggest, as the country prepares for the celebrations of its 50th year of independence on Wed 27th April 2011, you will not go anywhere in Freetown where a mark of the motto: ‘50 years Forward’ is not present in some shape or form. From logoed pens and rulers to knitted scarves (????, I know right!), to stickers, flags, billboards, key chains, caps with flag colours objects…. You name it, its being sold by street traders. In the centre of town, flag coloured bunting has strewn up everywhere, with no exception. It really creates an atmosphere of anticipation. I’m quite looking forward to the day. What I find most interesting yet bizzare is that everything has been painted green, white and blue (if you are not aware, these are the colours of the flag of Sierra Leone). The bottom third of lamp posts, railings, walls, central reservations, tree stumps… If it can be painted, It has been! And there is little discrimination with regard to the disparity in the shades of colour used (a nuance really). So you would go from one street with deep and subtle coloured flags to another with bright neon colours that increases the heat (at least that’s how it feels). Its all extremely strange, but again the atmosphere is so energetic and alive because of all the vibrant colour and the race for each group to show their patriotism ahead of the celebrations. Is great and it makes me so happy I’m here in Salone right now!!

2. Wilkinson Road is Looking Up!!

You may remember from my previous posts that Wilkinson Road is being widened and completely reconstructed. Well the Chinese Seventh Group Company are pressing on (though it is my personal opinion that if the whole thing had been approved and started just 6 months earlier, they would be completed by now… but no one asked for my opinion so…). Again as the pictures show, the roads are mostly now dual carriage way… at least that which has been completed. There is still a lot of work to be done, there's plenty of unmoving traffic and its still really dusty as you walk home from Congo Cross (what an amazing name!), but the workers are now tarring the roads and we can walk without feeling we are going to be crushed by a poda or unlawful okada drivers.

Which reminds me, the other day a fellow volunteer Lydia and I were walking to Congo cross, when an okada driver left the road and climbed straight on to the pavement – not that there’s much of it –and honked for us to get out of the way. Imagine our chagrin! I said to him, ‘This na fo feet not okada notto so’, and he shouted back as he bumped past, ‘Don’t worry!’ Great!!

3. The J C’s are back!

J C’s an abbreviation for ‘Just Come’, a term used by local Saloneans to describe their diaspora counterparts who return for holidays and special occasions. Freya mentioned that she had seen a few more Diaspora in town than normal, so I was on the lookout. Low and behold, every so often, you would see someone who looked and dressed slightly differently to those who you would normally would see. A little more flashy, dressy and a slightly different way of walking. More people chartering taxis and asking to be dropped at a hotel or another. I often wonder if this is what I as a Black non-Salonean must seem like to local people… I have noticed however that I am now treated slightly differently by these locals at this time. Where they would normally have asked, ‘are you an intern or a volunteer? or when did you arrive in Salone?’ I have now been asked, ‘did you go to international school? or when did you return?’. But one thing is clear, the Diaspora are happy to be here to celebrate the anniversary of their Mama Salone!

4. Crackdown on Unlawful Individuals!!

On Thursday 7th April, a photo news piece was published on the front page of the daily newspaper ‘Pemier News’. The headline reads ‘DOG MEAT FOR SALE’. Underneath the caption reads, ‘Yusufu Bangura caught on this week roasting a dog for sale as roast meat.’ After reading this, I was immediately transported back to the days prior to the publishing of this photo. I had been in a taxi, travelling to Kingtom area, when passing the National Sports Stadium on Syke Street, we met unexpected traffic and a commotion further forward. People were chanting and crowding and moving in the general direction of town. All of a sudden, the reason for the commotion became clear as a man emerged from the crowd with a half gutted dog slung on his back. As he walked, tens of men and young boys ran after him singing and chanting loudly in Krio. Perplexed, I leaned out of the window to take a closer look. In true Salonean style, the taxi driver leaned over me and shouted to a near passer-by, ‘Wetin ‘appen?’ The passer-by leaned in and relayed something in fast Krio which I couldn’t quite catch. The driver then explained to me that they had caught this man trying to cut up the dog and sell it on the street. He had been caught and was currently being walked to the police station. He was therefore required – as a mark of disgrace and guilt – required to carry the item which he had broken the law with. All the way to Kingtom, the driver lamented about how humans could be so cruel to each other. I on the other hand, sat there with an anxious flurry in my stomach, thinking back to the previous night when one of my housemates and I had eaten some street meat! Since then, every time I walk by, the wafting of roast meat drifting in my general direction, I picture a street dog staring at me, and I quickly move on. Saying this however, If I have tasted this animal, I certainly didn’t notice a great difference…

A day in a life of the beach coconut

2011-03-06T14:54:00.005Z

Okay, so this is hardly a serious blog entry, but I was walking on the beach yesterday with my camera, playing with the focus and varying the depth of focus, and I found a lonely hollow coconut and felt I should tell the epic (well not so epic) of its dream of going to sea. I’m sure pictures on their own would suffice, but this is more entertaining.

‘Beach Coconut had done its job. It had offered its nutritious, sweet milky water and soft white flesh to tourists lazing by Lumley Beach just that morning. It had been punctured and carved rather mercilessly by the young local seller, but it didn’t mind because it knew that if the tourist forgot that it was wrong to litter on the beach, it might just be lucky enough to get to go to sea! Unfortunately, its owner after consuming its refreshing innards, threw him on the sand far away from the water and simply walked off!’

‘The water was so close. It could smell its closeness, almost taste its cool salty disposition. But the tide was still out and though it had been kicked a few times by beach runners and strolling lovers over the last few hours it was no closer. Frustrated but determined, Beach coconut waited patiently.’

‘A couple of hours later, it heard the roar of the waves as it rolled unto the beach, closer than it had ever been. As it receded, it heard the fizzing of the bubbles and it grew excited. The water was coming for him. He would finally get to go to sea.’

‘Poised for impact, it used all its might to roll the lip of its opening to a most advantageous position of receiving the cool water and rolling toward it. The waves crashed once more and enveloped Beach coconut in a big bubbling whoosh. The push of the water rolled it sideways and upwards, the sand exfoliating its rough exterior.’

‘Sadly, the force of the wave was not sufficient to pull him out to sea and the disappointed Beach coconut was left soaked on the sand, forced to watch while the water grew more distant.’

‘Minutes crawled by, the sand warmed and its sandy skin dried. As the sun moved across the sky, Beach coconut’s optimism and excitedness fell. It was so quiet, it could hardly hear the water.’

‘Suddenly with little warning, a big wave rushed in, offsetting Beach coconut from its depressed position. Its hollow insides were filled with water and gave it the momentum be pulled, finally into the deeper waters. Overcome by the great power of the waves, Beach coconut shouted for joy as it floated to the surface, only to be pushed under by the heavy wall of the falling water and carried further away from the shore. Beach Coconut had finally done it. It was going out to sea.’

And then I went to have dinner at Roy’s Restaurant with Theo!

Hiking (or rather, climbing) up ‘small small’ Sugar Loaf Mountain!

2010-12-14T17:14:00.001Z

On Saturday, a group of us decided to hike up sugar loaf mountain, one of the many hills that make up the beautiful Peninsular of the ‘Western Area’ region of Sierra Leone. Since my experience of hiking dates well back to a year 9 biology trip to Somerset somewhere on a trip to study fresh-water plankton, ending in a random hike up a hill in the sticky British July summer heat, my first impression was ‘erm… can i really be bothered?’ Also, having spent the last couple of weeks sick, of nausea and dizziness possibly attributed a combination of the lack of iron in my diet and the side effects of the anti-malarials i am currently taking, I wasn’t sure I was fit enough for a 2 hour ascent up a bumpy hill.

Waking up on Saturday morning, with one eye creaking open, when I looked out of the window to see clouds engorged with an ostensible promise of rain, I mentally composed an apologetic text message to the others to say I was so staying in bed! But like clockwork, my body and mind had drifted into ‘awake-time’ and I knew sleep would not come till it became once more dark. So I got up and got dressed (to the surprise of my housemate, who commented on the fact that I was up and ready to go!)

So we hurried out of the house and got a lift up the hill to the Hill Station St. Mary’s Supermarket (according to them ‘the mother of all supermarkets’!) and waited for the rest of the group. Outside the supermarket were a large group of a mixed school group of local and expat kids in matching logoed white t-shirts, surrounded by adults, obviously there to supervise them on a walk/run of some kind. We noted that it seemed like a competitive sort of outing, since some of the adults had come in running gear, some fashionable, others obviously ready to claim first place at the end of the day, leaving us to wonder whether they were there to support the excited kids or the other way round! Anyway, the rest of our group appeared and we left the group jogging up the winding hilly road (which in my opinion seemed quite unsafe…).

We soon arrived in Regent, where we alighted and with our backpacks (I was teased for taking my longchamp backpack, for looking a bit too ladylike for a hiking trip! <shrug>) and water bottles, began our trek into the terrain of the sugar loaf. We had instructions to follow a trail of red white and blue splodges, marked earlier by kind hikers who had found their way to the top. So armed with this information, we set off, following the pipeline to the entrance point. Within 10 minutes, we were into the green of the forest, climbing and reaching, and hoisting ourselves up to higher ground, and as can be expected on an unguided trip into the unknown, were already shouting back and forth that we could no longer see any of the coloured splodges, and must therefore be off the designated path!

However, being the heroic pioneers we were, we decided to press on and find our own route (i mean all routes upwards lead to the top, right??!!). By the time half an hour had passed, I was completely out of breath, clothes drenched with sweat and the moist of the air, ankles screaming for respite from the twisting, stretching and pushing, and arms scratched and pricked by mother nature’s evergreens. But I was enjoying myself, completely alive!! With over 12 of us hiking to the top, we often had to shout down ‘are-we-all-okay’s’ to make sure no one was left behind. Luckily, no one disappeared or fell backwards down the hill as my mind had naughtily indulged in, pessimistically. Ducking under vines, slipping past animal snares, leaping off large mossy stones, we edged our way higher. Many-a-times I had to slap my leg to get rid of ants crawling up my inner thigh, hoping none of them were champion flies.

NOTE TO READER: CHAMPION FLIES are small two-tone ants, that look innocent enough, but if you accidentally brush them off, they release acidic content into your skin, causing a painful and red track wherever your infected hand touches. It looks as painful as it sounds! A friend mentioned that it will make us all a bit more Buddhist in our regard for tiny creatures, as we are forced to blow them off gently!

We finally made it to a flat clearing, where we all rested and sat down for some snacks and recuperated. But wait, this surely wasn’t the top! We were told there was a visible mark at the top, but besides the fact there was nothing to see apart from a small clearing (i had expected a bronzed image of a sugar loaf, personally!), it had only taken us an hour to get there! Though brave pioneers we were, hacking our own route to the top, there was no way we could have done it in an hour! After minutes of peering at the map and turning it in different directions, enlightenment dawned and one of the team announced that we were not at the summit of Sugar Loaf Mountain as expected, but had in fact climbed the adjacent hill. OOPS! Feeling slightly sheepish, we all agreed to descend and climb the actual mountain. I mean we still had hours of daylight left!

An hour later, following plenty of ‘no, no, not this way, not the path, we need to go back and find another route’, we met up with another group who were to meet us, who had laughably climbed the wrong hill too! Then collectively, we scrambled around searching for the right mountain, temporarily loosing a member of the group in the process. By this juncture, we had forgone the idea of following coloured splodges (It had been a couple of hours since we had spotted one either way!) After minutes of descending, the hikers at the front finally found the splodges and correct path… hurray… and a dynamic few decided to continue to the top. The rest of us cut our losses and decided to save the sweet loaf for another day, deciding instead to pass our next couple of hours with a sumptuous, well-deserved meal at Mamba Point!

So after all that, what did I learn? I learnt that if you want to climb a mountain, you had better make sure you have a guide that knows the way or you WILL get lost, and that short sleeves on sugar loaf is a bad idea! Even still, with a minor rash from poisonous scratches and a slight limp due to a sprained muscle in my foot, I still thoroughly enjoyed myself, and though my next credit card bill won’t be to a climbing course, I would definitely consider doing it again!

Banke xxx

N.B. We named our newly discovered mountain ‘small small’ sugar loaf!

A birthday in the sun! and a great night at Alex’s

2010-11-24T20:13:00.001Z

I had been a little worried about spending my birthday away from my family and friends, especially on this special occasion of my quarter centenary celebration. But I have to say I genuinely had a great time. See, living in London, November is usually the time of frosty cold weather, and more recently, snowy. So it was nice for a change to be in an environment where I could wake up on the morning of my birthday, put on a bathing suit and go swimming in the sea, without anticipating a painful frostbite!

So this year, Carole has planned a weekend at Hamilton beach, reserving the beach huts at Samso’s (If you’re coming to SL, and would like to spend a few nights on the beach, Samso’s is well worth a try. Great location, affordable prices, good food… okay, I’m starting to sound like an infomercial!).

On Saturday afternoon, courtesy of Sam, we drove to the beach to meet with the weekending party of VSO vols and NGO friends. I had an absolutely amazing time, swimming, lying on the beach, taking pictures, helping to put together a Hobie 16 Catamaran… (don’t get too impressed; knowing squat about boats, my idea of helping was pulling ropes, unfolding the mast, slotting pins in the right place and tilting my head to one side with a wise-ish look on my face, while saying thoughtfully, ‘yes, that looks about right’. At least I now know what a shroud is!)

In the evening, we had a wonderful dinner of skewered barracuda and sweet potato chips and I received a birthday song and a pineapple cake. No, an actual pineapple with a lit candle on top and biscuit pieces crumbled over the top. As someone who is not a massive fan of actual cake, this was a prize and a half! We then ended the night by the campfire. I stayed up until the wee hours, captivated by the soothing impression of the burning flames on my senses.

I woke up on my birthday to the sound of the crashing waves (amazing!) and immediately put on my bathing suit and went for a quick morning swim, followed by breakfast. Coming home on the Sunday, even I had to admit that I had out-swum myself, spending over an hour an a half in the sea… so as soon as I got home, I fell into bed for a quick nap.

Later in the evening, we went to an absolutely amazing restaurant by the beach called Alex’s to eat with a few friends.

So all together, it was a totally enjoyable birthday, and I really appreciate all of those who celebrated it with me. We all know how I am about birthdays, so thanks for indulging me, even suggesting more fun activities for next year’s 26 tasks. Also, thanks to you all, I have received the most thoughtful, useful and amusing birthday presents this year, one of which being my very own bistro (below) in the kitchen, where we can now add corned beef hash, spaghetti Bolognese and peanuts to the menu…

Banke xxx

And the walls came tumbling down…

2010-11-02T01:12:00.001Z

There have been a few noticeable changes in Freetown over the past few weeks. There have also been some things which we would have expected to change, but have annoyingly stayed the same! In a way, I feel words won’t do, so I’ll let pictures show tell the story.

What has stayed the same

1. Rainy season turns to dry season… nope, still here…

See, by the end of September, what we were all expecting was this…	…but instead, what we’ve been having is still a whole load of this…

How annoying right! On that particular day, I had to wade through the mucky water to get to the bank. Not enough antiseptic spray can make that seem ok!

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Before I attempted to catch a taxi from the VSO programme office to go to the bank, I called my housemate, saying, ‘I don’t know, I think I’m going to brave it to the bank.’ to which she replied, ‘no, I think what you mean is, you’re about to stupid it to the bank!’

She was quite right!

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2. Yep, you guessed, there is still a lot of traffic… and yes, there are still a few unpleasant smells you have to endure sitting in a hot poda, and yes we’re still taking the exciting route down the hills of Freetown!

What has changed

1. The most dramatic change which all Freetonians can attest to is the widening of Wilkinson Road. Okay so at the moment, its more of reducing the walls to rubble and possibly destroying the livelihoods of shop owners and street sellers (even though, I have this uncanny feeling that the street sellers are quite accustomed to being moved, and so will find a new spot to sell their produce before the diggers move in!).

A couple of weeks ago, this scene was eerily reminiscent of the aftermath of civil unrest, something all too familiar to the history of Sierra Leone. I have to applaud the workers on their efforts however, it has returned to looking like the Peaceful Salone I know! The rubble is being cleared at a speedy rate, workers are ACTUALLY working! and the roads actually looks like they might have a fighting chance of being finished by the given deadline.

See, the plan is to widen the roads in Lumley, and also complete the extension of Wilkinson road from 2 lanes (or 4-5 lanes depending on whether you define it using the road traffic rules or from the lawless Freetonian drivers point of view) to 4 lanes in time for Sierra Leone’s 50th Anniversary of Independence, led by the Chinese railway construction group. The idea is to reduce the traffic and congestion going into town, which is a good thing, since it means a 15 minute journey will no longer take an hour! Also, there is a hopeful possibility that they will put in pavements, meaning we won’t have to fear for our legs or life when walking down the road, which we currently share with cars, trucks, lorries and believe it or not, mangy dogs!

Jimmy the Chimp from the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary says hello!

Well worth a trip if you ever visit Freetown!

Till Next time,

Banke xoxox

A bumpy poda ride and a free magazine topped off with a game of badminton

2010-10-01T05:51:00.001+01:00

Okay, this isn’t quite 40 lines, but in my defence, it is interesting and I haven’t blogged in a while!!!

I woke up this morning with a slight headache. Mainly because the traffic is now incredibly bad due to the school kids returning to the new term, so we have to leave at 6.50am in order to get to work before 9. My housemate and I had decided to go in early (so we could get a lift with someone who is kind enough to give us a lift in an air-conditioned 4 by 4 on most days), and have breakfast at the amazing Lebanese owned Crown Bakery on Wilberforce Street. The prospect of eating there gave me the incentive to drag myself out of bed as my alarm bleeped at 6.15am. My housemate also, however had a headache, and our early conversation ended by us both crawling back into bed for an extra hour, since neither of us actually had to be in till 9 and could technically have had an extra hours sleep… which we did! But this meant I would have to sit in traffic in a hot poda for an extra 30 minutes! Aw fo do?

So at quarter to 8, I left cockle bay wearing my gleaming white VSO t-shirt and waited for a poda, ready for all the traffic in the world. When the poda arrived, with the apprentice hanging his head out of the window calling ‘GENTS ROAD, GENTS ROAD’ (Regents Road) in that singsong manner of theirs, it was surprisingly empty. I even had a whole row to myself. But as usual, as we got to Aberdeen Ferry Road, we met the crawling traffic – in my opinion, aided rather than diffused by the traffic police! We sat in traffic for about 15 minutes; luckily I was sitting next to one of the wide windows, so with the extra space, there was a little breeze blowing through. I had also gotten a little engrossed in the book ‘Green Oranges on Lion Mountain’ by Emily Joy, a VSO volunteer writing about her experience in pre war Sierra Leone. I had just gotten to the part where she had to be evacuated from Serabu hospital, and didn’t notice when the poda turned down a little side road, down into the depths of hilly Freetown’s inner roads.

Now podas are public transportation like no other. Instead of having a fixed route from point A to B, the journey from the start to the finish point is dependent upon traffic and where passengers wish to alight. So because there is always traffic on the stretch of Wilkinson road, podas taken routes off the beaten paths. So there we went, crashing down the hill, lower and lower over the extremely rocky road (obviously not supposed to be a poda/car/anything-with-wheels route). While meandering down the tight space, with a slight fog still hanging over the city, the poda halted harshly as the engine died outside an open shop, to which the men sitting outside it shouted, ‘driva, you no fo stop na ya!’ meaning the poda was not allowed to stop there. Luckily, after a couple attempts, the driver managed to kick start the engine and the poda roared on past the jeers of the local townsmen.

So I managed to make it into work in good time, and dived straight in. I was working on a proposal to invite a national telecommunications company to advertise in our new information handbook and newsletter – a new initiative to raise money for the Nurses Association. I soon finished the rationale, and needed to figure out the budget. Not knowing what the going rates were like for advertisement spaces in Sierra Leone, I decided to embark upon my first field research and visit the head offices of a few newspapers – as calling the numbers they gave online resulted in two ‘out of coverage’ replies and a brief chat with a guy all the way out in Kono, who exclaimed, ‘ sorry oh, i no get wetin you dey talk. You get fo speak krio duya’. So I prepared a price list inquiry sheet and walked down to Awoko newspaper at Percival Street, a daily Freetown paper, and got the rates info. Now I needed prices for a monthly spread, so I walked all the way to Rawden Street to Sierra Eye Magazine. On my way, I stopped at the bank – which was pretty full at 3.10pm, besides the good looking cashier was not there, so i didn’t wait – walked past yet another funeral gathering outside a church (there is one almost everyday), and turned at the massive orange AFRICELL building.

The internet site said 25 Rawden Street, so I walked up from 24. Then I got to no. 25, but it wasn’t Sierra Eye like I expected, just a shoe shop. So I walked on and to my surprise, the next 5 stores all had 25 Rawden Street on each of them. I must have looked very confused, as a group of illegal money changers called me over and asked me what I was looking for. I explained to them and they all seemed to think I wanted Sierra travel, so for for the next few minutes, a very kind though misguided man led me around the big building, with dark corridors asking everyone where ‘Sierra Travel’ was, to which I had to keep repeating, ‘I’m sorry, no I actually mean Sierra Eye magazine!’ In the end, I reached the sparsely decorated office manned by a lady who introduced me to the person responsible for advertisements. I had a talk with him and had a look at the prices. On my departure, he even gave me a free copy of the current magazine. Upon arriving home, and sitting down to read it, I realised I had actually been conversing with the magazine’s editor!

After that, I decided I had done a full day’s work and decided to go home. the poda ride was very uneventful and almost traffic free. I reached home at 4.11 and since my housemates were not going to be home for a while, I decided I was going to have a quiet evening. I ate an apple, brought the washing in, had a little nap and even tidied up a little. When I glanced at the clock, I couldn't believe only 35 minutes had lapsed since I got home. So much for enjoying a quiet evening, I was bored! Therefore I was elated when I got a call inviting me to play badminton at IMATT, which is at the military quarters up past hill station. I had a quick shower and jumped into a taxi to Congo cross. We drove up the hill, the climate becoming noticeably cooler and played a nice game of badminton with friends followed by a nice meal at Montana Garden (there’s actually no garden, and I’m still a bit perplexed by the picture of the non-Salonean mountain on the front cover of their menu!) afterwards. I even managed to get a bruised and slightly bleeding knee as a result from a skilful (probably not) and brave (again probably not) lunge for the shuttlecock, which I was quite proud of since it means I’m actually getting better at a sport where balls fly in my direction. That’s got to be worth a little mark on the knee!!

Banke xxx

PS: Don’t worry about my bruise… I washed it out vigorously… and painfully with mentholated spirit. Urgh!

A cacophony of sounds

2010-09-28T02:54:00.001+01:00

I had always wondered at the true meaning of these words. One imagines horns in a traffic jam, tens of people talking simultaneously with music in the background, while pots and pans clang away in a kitchen or birds twittering close by as an automatic roadside drill and police sirens smash the tranquil atmosphere, gives an apt description of the phrase. Well I have a new and far more fitting description with just two letters.

PZ!

Encompassing a group of streets in the middle of Eastern Freetown, PZ offers residents a shopping experience of a lifetime. Imagine all the scenarios above, however adding about two thousand more people packed unto fairly narrow roads, hundreds of street side stalls selling anything known to man, megaphones blaring out ‘buy my produce’ messages, drivers with their palms placed resolutely on their horns while trying to literally squeeze past people pouring down the streets multidirectionally (if that’s even a word!), street sellers fighting for your attention to sell you things you’re sure you don’t need…

In short, it is an overwhelming event to go through.

a completely unrelated but lovely serene picture of a bird I photographed

What’s that on my slipper? (One of the best yet most awkward romantic gestures!)

2010-08-23T23:26:00.002+01:00

Banke: ‘I can’t believe he wrote on my shoe…’
Freya: ‘He wanted to find a route directly to your sole!’

Cockle Bay house had been having some electrical and general functional problems lately; warped doors that scrape the floor making scratching noises, scaring one into wondering what might happen if the door jammed and the handle came off in ones hands while one was still inside, electrical socket sending a shock through poor subject when trying to turn on the fan, and meshes with bite holes from not so tiny, furry beings… So of course, we got people in to fix them!

The carpenter came round and meshed our drying room - which he is yet to finish, and ‘fixed’ the doors, so they don’t scratch the floors anymore. I say ‘fixed’ because our definition and the carpenters I think, are apparently quite different. Not to be unkind about his ‘skills’, but he managed to fix my door and break it at the same time. True, it no longer scrapes the floor, but somehow, he has managed to unhinge it in such a way that it no longer closes, or worse locks! Not really my definition of fixed!

But anyway, that’s not the story today!

So the electricians came round to fix the sockets and light fixtures. There were FOUR of them! ‘The joke, how many electricians do you need to fix a socket?’ came to mind.’ They got right to work and Freya and I, carried on with ours.

Bear in mind that 2 days earlier, when the electricians had come to have a assess the electrical socket, one of the men had asked me to be his friend…

As I sat in my room doing my work, the electricians stood on my table, fixing the wires that connected my room with the next. Throughout this process, I happily typed away, listening to my i-pod on speakers. One of the electricians even (surprisingly!) sang along to Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights! About half an hour later they were done, and were packing up. I walked into the living room, and was stooped by the table, when the same guy from 2 days earlier came in and said to me, ‘I left you a note on your slipper!’ I said ‘okay,’ awkwardly, and continued with my task.

After they had left, Freya and I entered my room to find, beside my bed a note – as promised – written directly ON my slipper, with my pen! It said:

‘U are 2 nice. I really need you 4 friend. This is my line… (which cannot be disclosed for obvious reasons)’

Needless to say, I was speechless! It was actually a really nice, grand romantic gesture, akin to an alternate rendition of Cinderella, or perhaps that scene in the movie Wicker Park where Josh Hartnett is utterly besotted and writes a note on Diane Kruger’s shoe box! And, had there been mutual affection, it would have been quite sweet. But having seen him only once and definitely not with the mind to fall in love with him, this was rather funny.

But it was a sweet gesture, and as Samson, our other housemate said, it means he saw something good in me. And that, I can neither laugh at or mock, so this will go down as another one of my strange, but characteristic experiences in Sierra Leone that we’ll all reminisce over for years to come!!

Bankexx

What, do I have 'social butterfly' stamped on my forehead or something?

2010-08-17T16:25:00.002+01:00

Exasperated yesterday, this was part of the message I texted to one of my housemates yesterday. I was having a particularly annoying day, caused by something I had thought I would always enjoy.

You see, before we came out to Sierra Leone, we attended training, which was supposed to prepare us for change. One of the things we discussed was the Emotion cycle*. In a way, I thought I was doing really well and was not going through the stages conventionally, actually, I wasn't even really going through any of the stages. Forget 'Storming before Norming', I was settled and ready to take on the world. However, it only took a 2 minute walk up Fort Street in the rain, past a hairdressers before I realised that even I, the Great Banke, was certainly not above the emotional cycle pitched at the 'Skills for working in development' course.

The thing is, I have wondering, smiling eyes. When I walk down the street, I make eye contact with people and smile until I walk past. I even say hello when I'm in a particularly good mood. I also have that thing where I always manage to catch the eye of the street sellers and then regret it because I realised I've smiled and given them the impression that I want to buy whatever it is they are selling (which is usually not the case!), then when they come over I have to smile sheepishly and say 'no tenke!'

So I do this when I walk down Fort Street. I see loads of people between HFaC and SLNA - where I work - and because of the culture here, people are mega friendly and genuinely want to talk to you. In a strange way, they all seem to know I’m not a local. I don't know what it is... well once, this guy said he knew I wasn’t from around here because I walked quickly like an 'English man'!

So every day, I walk to work and people say hi and shake my hand and its fun. I even made friends with a girl at the local hairdressers who sometimes walks me to HfaC at the end of the day. But the glow began to ebb as I started to tire of saying hello constantly and smiling all the time.

You know, if you're from London, and ‘travel’ is usually personal time for thinking, i-poding and ignoring people. As friendly as I am, even I start to tire when I have to stop every five seconds with a greeting! See, I'm used to saying hello to the people I’m friends with and am equally polite but not over-friendly with the rest. However, I made a mistake of hurrying past the hairdressers in the rain, not stopping to wave because I was late and I didn’t see my hairdressing friend. 2 seconds later, a lady I don't know came out, shouted my name and shouted crossly, 'Banke, you have to say HELLO to us O!' So I’m there thinking 'what? I don't even know you', but apparently this matters not. Furthermore, later on (when I sent the text mentioned at the beginning) a man walked past me mumbling undecipherable words. A few seconds later, he returns and addresses me angrily saying in Krio 'I said hello to you, why didn't you reply?' Shocked I said 'oh, sorry, didn’t hear it, hello'. He then said okay and walked off! And there are more stories! Must I say hello to everybody, all the time?

I GUESS I MUST HAVE ONE OF THOSE 'APPROACH ME' FACES... I guess this is mostly a good thing... Well I guess I'll really mean that in 2 stages time!!!

Bankexx

Footnote

*The Emotion Cycle - Stage 1 is total euphoria, complete amusement to everything new. You love this and could do it forever! Stage 2, annoyance sets in. Everything you thought was fun becomes a nightmare, and you try to imagine the easiest way to find a cosy sofa in front of a romantic movie, with a tub of haagendaaz, completely oblivious to the current situation. As you can tell, my version is also called ESCAPISM or DENIAL. Stage 3 is the depressed 'Why Me' stage, where you moan and 'well at least I'm alive' is the most positive you're willing to get. Stage 4 is the accepting stage, you realise haagendaaz and Will Smith are unnecessary (well...) and you could just enjoy where you are, sit on the beach and watch the beautiful sunset, and it really is a great experience! Okay, I've embellished and exaggerated a little!

Ten things i like about you!

2010-08-04T00:57:00.001+01:00

There are 10 things I really like about Sierra Leone. Insanely interesting, but possibly more than 40 lines. You have been warned!

The Poda-podas – This is public transport at its most eccentric! Between the red and blue strobe lighting, amazing surround sound music system, rear view mirror substituted for an LCD screen playing music videos, and apprentice hanging out of the side door shouting undecipherable destinations, you’re not guaranteed a safe ride home, but you’ll sure have fun getting there!
The beaches – Sierra Leone is just started to get noticed as a great location for tourism and rightly so. The beaches are amazing. When the weather is great and there’s fuel in your tank (personal car or chartered taxi), Laka, Lumley, no 2, etc… beaches are the best places to be.
The currency – My, do I feel like a millionaire! With 6,000 Leones to a pound, every payday (well, stipend day) feels like a lottery payout. The only downside is that it goes as quickly as it comes since Freetown is a rather expensive place to live.
The Thunder and Lightening – This hasn’t happened for a while, but when the storms begin, you find yourself somewhat terrified, yet transfixed by the angry streaks and flashing moments in the sky followed by a rumbling so prolonged and deep, you feel someone has actually been offended.
The Cotton Tree - At the historical heart of Sierra Leone and at virtually the centre of everything accessible in Freetown, the cotton tree reminds me that if a tree can withstand over 200 years of weather like it has, its people can do so much more.
The Mountains – The hills which can be seen from anywhere in Freetown are absolutely amazing! That’s why its called Sierra Leone!
The Palm Trees – Despite the felling of our beloved garden palm tree in the storm last month, I absolutely love them. In so many shapes and sizes, they beautify the landscape, especially on the journey up-country!
The other Species – Its amazing how many dogs share this city with humans, who appear so used to their presence, they seem not to notice them anymore. There are dogs virtually everywhere. I counted 25 on Wilkinson road, and that was just one side of it! Okay, well I'm not entirely sure this category should be on the list, but I love one of the dogs we have in our compound called Bingo. Just look at him!
Names of Places – Of all the countries I’ve been, I have never so much enjoyed calling the names of places there. From Siaka Steven Street, to Cockle Bay, to Tonkolili, to Magburaka, to Tacugama, to Lightfoot Boston, you are never short of cool, sweet sounding places to describe!
The Youyi Building – Another great phrase everyone loves to say, the white, tall modern looking building houses the Ministry of Health and Sanitation – as well as other ministries; the Chinese built structure project what a more modern Freetown might look like.

Till Again…. Bankexx

the mountains…

Excuse me, are you Allah?

2010-07-28T21:04:00.001+01:00

I had one of the most bizarre and surreal experiences today when I got on the poda-poda, on my way home. You see it’s a little more difficult to get a poda going to Aberdeen from Fort Street after work, because a larger percentage of the podas that come past the Circular road stop seem to go to Lumley (another part of town). So Freya and I were happy when we finally heard the ‘apprentice (poda conductor)’ shouting ‘abadaba-daba-daba’ – this means Aberdeen in apprentice.

So anyway, we got unto the poda quickly – glad to be out of the looming clouds and impending rain – into an unusually empty poda, and we sit down. As we sit, another man boards and takes a seat on the row behind us. The poda starts to move when the man in the row behind taps me on my shoulder and asks,

‘Excuse me, are you Allah?’

Obviously, I’m reasonably perplexed by this question and I turn round to face him, repeating bemusedly, ‘Am I Allah?’ Here sits a well dressed man with a red jacket over an olive green shirt and a smart umbrella, tucked in his hand, with spectacles on (and as Freya rightly noted, looking slightly out of place in the poda), asking me possibly the most ludicrous question ever!

The man looks a little frustrated and repeats, ‘Are you Anna, Anna?’, and it all suddenly clicks into place; he’s asking me if I’m Anna!

We have a bit of a giggle and I assure him that no, I am not Anna, to which he exclaims ‘oh, I thought you were Anna’, turns to the apprentice and says, ‘Apprentice, I’m getting off, she’s not Anna’, and then the poda stops – after having driven to the end of Circular road – and Mr Red Jacket hops off and simply walks away.

Freya and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. What on earth? He had been so determined; one would assume this Anna was some long lost love, but again as Freya rightly pointed out, he couldn’t have known Anna that well, if he was asking the question ‘Are you Anna?’! Maybe he’d seen a picture on facebook and I happened to fit a vague description of this ‘Anna’ character… who knows!

At least I don’t have to worry that people are asking if I am the Muslim deity!

So if there are any Freetowners reading this post and were curious as to why those two English girls were laughing their heads off at the back of the poda, now you know.

Till my next Tale!

Banke xx

My Friend, Accept defeit and JUST blog!

2010-07-20T20:29:00.002+01:00

I’m sitting on the veranda of our Cockle Bay House, watching the palm tree in our gardened compound rustle in the rainy wind, and listening to the angry yet calming sound of thunder in the distance. I wonder at the fact that I feel so settled after only a month. This time last month (if counting by date, not weeks) I was sitting on the descending plane secretly wondering whether it would be a week before I thought, ‘okay, who was the idiot who filled out that application form and invited herself into a year of misery?’ But at the risk (well too late now) of sounding like a cliché, I really am enjoying it.

I really did mean to blog sooner, I did. I even started a few draft posts, but the problem was/is my tenacity. I was so determined to put up pictures, creating a wonderful narrative of Banke’s journey into Sierra Leone, that I missed the opportunity to give you minute-by minute detailed accounts of my experience (I bet you’re breathing a sigh of relief) But don’t worry, I have found a way and am still working on it and will release it to you all as soon as I reach out an outlet with a speedy internet connection.

With no preamble, I’m going to crack on and tell you what I really think about this place (I bet you’re on the edge of your seats...). The great thing about Sierra Leone is the People! I am amazed everyday by what I see. Firstly they are really friendly... well apart from this lady who sells Freya (one of my housemates) and I bread in the mornings on our way to work. She always looks miserable and we are seriously trying to find a way to cheer her up.

... I have just had the most brilliant idea. As part of my role as an advocacy officer in SL, and to aid participation and inclusivity in decision-making processes, I’ve decided to set up a poll to discover how we can brighten up our bread lady’s day. Please help us by answering the poll after reading this blog. Our decision depends on your answer...

Okay, so there was a bit of a preamble... As I was saying, the people are great. They are friendly and very accommodating. They all seem to think I am Sierra Leonean and once I begin to talk, they then think I am a Sierra Leonean, come home to visit her parents. I have received a few friendship requests and can now say ‘how di bodi’ pretty well. Sadly, this is the only Krio I have managed to perfect so far...
... actually... Mek I get one bred Ya?
So my 40 lines have been used up and more, and I haven’t managed to tell you a single thing about my experience in SL... I promise to divulge in my next blog... till then.
Bankexx

So a reporter came to my house today...OMG

2010-06-07T00:18:00.006+01:00

So this has been an amazing week! On Wednesday morning a photographer form the South London Press came to my house and took some photos of me doing the handstand task (pictures will be uploaded when he sends them to me), in my front room, and on the road, riding my bike. The handstand task was really scary. I've always had a fright of doing a handstand against the wall, but can do it freestanding... Weird I know! If you would like to read the article, get out and get yourself a copy of the South London Press and look on PAGE 2!! My story is also running in a few more local newspapers this week. I'm very happy some awareness is going out to the local community about youths volunteering. We NEED to learn to give more of ourselves.

... moving on to Friday, my AMAZING friend Samantha got us these tickets to see USHER live at Koko, Camden- Seriously i don't know how you get these tickets but, love you! It really took me back to year 10 and 11 in Aske's with our unevenly rolled up skirts and black trench coats. Oh the days. Those moments are really good to remember when you're leaving a place for a while, because helps to remind me why I love London. So this is our Usher in the flesh!

I really didn't think I'd enjoy it but I really did. His voice is amazing and we did our best to join in with the Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh my gosh...

Click here to see Task 10 Learning 25 languages for VSO!!

... then on Saturday, I completed my 10th task, which was me in a VSO t-shirt, holding a collection can, trying to get people to stop and answer my question, 'excuse me, do you speak any foreign languages?' have never seen so many forms of rejection in my life. Thanks to my dad, and my friend Mudi for stopping out to see me!!

My favourite total rejection line was the, 'oh, I already give to 2 other charities...' I always - as a fundraiser - wonder 1. how that helps me, and 2. what that answer had to do with the question -do you know any foreign languages? I dont think i shall ever know...

Less than a month to go...

2010-05-30T22:31:00.000+01:00

I looked at my counter today and it said 23 DAYS LEFT TILL DEPARTURE and I panicked a little. Not because I thought 'oh my, Im actually leaving this place', or 'i'm going to miss everyone' (this should come later at a leaving do or the like). Rather, my anxiety was due to the fact that I realised I have 23 days to complete 20 tasks and buy all the things I think is necessary for my trip. Where on EARTH did all the time go?
On a more successful note, I have completed 2 more tasks. I will put up a video soon of me throwing a boomerang and learning to juggle 3 balls;

So, okay I did put 4 balls on my task sheet, but who was I kidding? Co-ordination is hard at the best of times and those of you who know me know my directional ability! I think I'll just cut my losses at 3 and move on!

So today I completed the task to VOLUNTEER AT A SOUP KITCHEN, and it was really fulfilling in the sense that I helped to bring a smile to people's faces and for no payment. It made me realise that to give something can really be better than to take it. Thanks to the American Church in London (Tottenham Court Road) for letting me participate in the soup kitchen. I encourage any one who wants to help other and give back to society to try it out. Its worth more than a £2 a month cheque to a faceless organisation. Unfortunately, since it was about feeding the general public and mostly vulnurable people, I could not record it, nor did I attempt to take a picture (which was a bit sad), but i did manage to take a crappy picture of me in the storeroom looking more like a beebo profile pic of a 14 year old than anything else, but... yeah... Before I go, some shoutouts!!! (A new Addition to my blog)

To my Cousin Tomi on her 21st Birthday!! Happy birhday, enjoyed spending time with you up North...
To the Catford Rotary Club for allowing me to crash their weekly meeting unannounced and eat a 3 course meal with them and sit on the presidents table.
To Carol Jean Couture whose fashion line is exquisite!!! Thanks for letting me perform at your show! click her to check out her designs

Till next time!!
Banke

5 planes and 4 US States; wow what a journey!!!

2010-05-19T22:53:00.002+01:00

Last weekend was really eventful for me, I travelled to Arizona for a couple of days and it was amazing. Not only for the intense heat that greeted my sister and I as we landed, but also because the travel experience was like never before. In just four days, I visited 4 US States... Oh sorry, I meant 3 US States (Chicago, Arizona and Washington) and 1 Canadian State (Montreal), and managed to board 5 different planes!

As some of you might know, I am ever so slightly apprehensive before I travel by air, and this was no exception. I had to get over my 'IF ITS NOT BA, I'M NOT GETTING ON IT' rule.

As a sidebar, I could relate this experience to my impending travels, saying the adventerous journey was in preparation for my flight to Sierra Leone. However, I won't, as it was pointed out to me the other day, most of my sentences now begin with or contain 'when I'm in Sierra Leone...' Yes I realise how annoying that could be!

The flights were quite smooth and I soon got over my fear of flying UNITED (Yes, I look up crash rates on the flight risk assessment site online. Yes, I am that pendantic about such issues!) But it was fine. Other than the ancient movie screening system on the transatlantic flight, it was great. I even got to go on a tiny UNITED EXPRESS jet from Washington to Montreal, which was really fast. Funny story:

Upon taking off on UNITED EXPRESS, ascending into the bulbous clouds of the Washington sky, there was of course turbulence, to which I momentarily panicked and grabbed unto the arm rest beside me, accidentally scratching the leg of the poor man next to me. Between saying the Shepherd's Psalm, I managed to apologize, to which he replied, 'don't worry about it, I was about to do exactly the same thing'... Maybe its normal to scratch people on flights... At least that will alleviate my embarrassment, though I know thats not exactly what he meant!

So, I've had some American fun before leave the West for a year, there will be som many more adventures in the South, I am sure. In terms of task, I have completed another, spending the whole night awake, which was hard, and had me in a stupor the whole of today. I was kept awake by my trusty programmes Home and Away and Gossip Girl (What a season finale today!!). These are some of the trivial things I will miss about having uninterrupted wireless connecting me to You Tube and ITV Player!! Till Next time...

Banke!!

Out of the desert, comes a £50 cheque!

2010-05-08T11:01:00.003+01:00

Welcome back. Okay, so this one is 28 lines, Sorry, I obviously can't count!

It took me a while not to spell desert as dessert. Seriously, and I was a spelling bee champion! Dessert is yummy though!

Okay, so guys, this was a tough week for me. If you have been on my justgiving page lately (no, you haven't have you... yes, you should have... I've caught you out... just joking... am I?) you would have seen that the donations have slowed to a crawl. So I thought I would unleash my fundraising powers, you know bring in the charming big dogs. I started contacting possible funders; calling, emailing, stalking...

I even contacted people I knew the chance of receiving a donation from was about as possible as rowing to the moon and back in 3 days on a canoe... But I did anyway! I was feeling confident after reading my 'guide to fundraising' and felt the funding world was my oyster...

... 3 days later, my canoe was still standing vertical in the sand. I had called my old school like 10 times and sent numerous emails and had spoken to a particular voice message so much that I chant along with it now. Just to cheer myself up! Funny story...

I call one of my old establishments, hoping to speak to the head of department. The receptionist puts me through. It goes through to voicemail, so I call back and say to the receptionist, 'can you give me her direct number?' Receptionist says no. So next time I call, I ask when the head will be around. Receptionist says 'I can't be certain of that. You just have to call back.' I am getting kind of exasperated by now, so i say, 'I could call back 20 times and not get through to her. Could you tell me when she might be around the vicinity of her office? She must have a timetable!' So receptionist tells me to hold on and comes back 2 minutes later and says, 'well she's actually not on site till Friday (This is Tuesday by the way!), so you can try her then!'

As I put the phone down, I think to myself, 'would it not have been easier for receptionist to tell me

that at the BEGINNING of the phone call, therefore saving my time and hers? In addition to that thrilling but grossly unhelpful phonecall, I hadn't received any replies from my numerous emails and other voice messages. I was down, Yes down! My canoe now appeared to be lying facedown surounded by desert wind, with tumbleweed blowing mockingly across the sand.

But then, my mother came home with a cheque for £50 from a church member who heard about what I was doing and wanted to donate! So a big thank you to the twins, and my mum! They really put a happy spin to an otherwise miserable day for me!!

Banke xoxoxo

Yes, I definitely hate Marmite!

2010-05-02T16:34:00.004+01:00

Welcome back. As promised, Just 25 lines or less!

RE: Just over half an hour ago, I tasted marmite for the second time ever, and I am definitely convinced that it will be my last!

This was task 2/25 to raise money for VSO before I go away, and it was fun. Check out the video clip at:

Task 2/25 Eat Marmite - CLICK HERE TO WATCH!!

So far, I have raised over £350 for VSO, and I have to say, I think that amount covered that single bite of marmite spread bread. Who says they like marmite again?

WHAT ARE YOUR TASTE BUDS LIKE? Not far from tasting like ear-wax, the yeast extract taste is far from desirable. There is definitely not enough Folic Acid and Vitamin B12 in that 'thing' posing as a healthy spread to tempt me into its destructive arms ever again.

Were it up to me, following the extract should read: 'possible symptoms following consumption include,'

a. uncontrollable contortion of the face in disgust, b. unsatiable need for something sweet to rid your mouth of bitter taste, c. sweating, d. piercing headache, e. possible stomach ache (if untreated vomitting may follow... and so on

I have all of these symptoms. I suppose all can be easily treated by a 2 hour nap, however I have an even beter idea. Instead of treatment, the perfect prophylaxis from the effects of marmite will simply be... NEVER EAT IT AGAIN.

Thanks for Reading,
Banke xoxo

NB: No, I will not be packing marmite in my suitcase when i leave... urgh... i can still taste it!

The End of the 'Serial Tempist'

2010-04-23T22:53:00.001+01:00

Exactly a week ago, it was my last day at Leonard Cheshire Disability (LCD)... Yes it actually was my last day this time. Some people, especially those working at LCD will know my track record of leaving and returning for the past 2 years. Even after a leaving party in December with presents and send off cards, I was back in February. Perhaps I should sign myself up for LCD Anonymous;

Banke: Hello, my name is Banke Adetayo and I am a Serial Tempist!

Group: Hello Banke... (followed by group hug)

But, jokes apart, I really have enjoyed working at Leonard Cheshire and will surely miss everyone, the biscuit and chocolate binge corner beside Sheila's desk. No wonder I didnt lose all those extra calories I promised to.

Biscuit tin + 2 packets of shortbread and hobnobs + Banke walking past + close proximity = inadequate weight loss program

So I have managed to complete my first of my 25 tasks, which was to take a vow of singing, which was topped off on my last day with a singathon... or more like me wearing a rainbow coloured sombrero, murdering Bonnie Tyler's 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' (its obvious I dont know it very well, no?) The new advert must be way better than my rendition. I managed to sing 'Moon River', Breakfast at Tiffany's much better though (which alighning with Murphy's law, wasn't recorded!), but I think the IT team at the other end of the office must have been wondering which 'moon' I landed from...

So as promised, below is the video from Task no. 1 - Vow of Singing... well from what you will see, its more of my embarassing myself, but as promised to you... I also promise the rest will be better...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoLEC7_Cz90

The Root to Sierra Leone

2010-04-14T00:07:00.000+01:00

Hello all, this is my first blog post. As promised, all my posts on this blog will be 25 lines or less.

So this afternoon, while sitting in the dentist's waiting room to begin part deux of my root canal, I started making a mental list of the things I would need for Sierra Leone. First aid kit... mosquito net... high factor sunscreen... I am interrupted by the dental assistant who calls me some slight variation of my actual name, but I answer. Im used to it you see.

So Im sitting in the chair, leaned back mouth wide open with pieces of metal sticking out of my mouth wondering why this ordeal was truly necessary. It took me till the end of the drilling, welding (actual smoke and smell of burning - rubber - rising from my mouth!) and repetitive scratching that felt like a painless sawing of my tooth to realise why most people dread going to the dentist. Its not the pain, but the noises! Oh the NOISES. Its enough to scare the most testosterone driven alpha male away from the reclining chair!

But leaving the surgery, mouth numb and tasting slightly of cement, I remember the reason I am going through this. To have healthy teeth of course... but also because in 2 months, I will be headed to Sierra Leone to take up a placement helping the Nurses Association to improve their training programmes for Nurses and Health Workers. The aim is to decrease maternal and child mortality in Sierra Leone. And for that, the 'car-manufacture-like' experience I just went through was well worth it!!

Till Next Time... P.S. My first 25th task on Thursday 15th April. Watch out for Blog & Video!!
Bankexoxo