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We were ready to leave our island paradise by 7:00 am and shortly thereafter, formed our crocodile down to the river and the rubber dingy (like a zodiac) to take us, and all of our gear, back to Kambuna. Cook group were already established there and we had breakfast and were on our way by 9:30 a.m.
Back over the same dirt road through all the amazing villages on the way with their mixture of painted plaster walls with metal rooves and rectangular mud brick walls with smooth, thatched rooves.
In every village without fail our passage through the village was welcomed. The little kids were the most animated. They would hear the noise of the truck, look up, first amazement crossed their faces, then their faces bloomed into smiles and recognition, then one hand waved, then two hands waved, then they started running along beside the truck, shouting until their voices faded into the remote African air what we can only assume were Mende words of welcome. The men were probably the next most energetic. The same awkening of recognition followed by enthusiastic hand waving and the "thumbs up" sign. The women were the most reserved, but they tended to be the most direct, and the connection between eyes set off sparks which will last forever.
Because of Aminah's problems, we had to head back to Bo and there we spent about 4 hours. This town starts to seep into your blood as you get to know it. First time around it seemed chaotic and without purpose. Second time, we got the layout, knew where to go to buy certain things, knew the banks, none of which had an ATM that worked, and got to know where the Diamond Merchants were. Since it was lunch time when we got there, we found a small restaurant in the centre of town, and wound our way up the irregular steps to sanity amidst the chaotic market and town below. Fans, loos with toilet paper, running water and soap, and good food. Unfortunately, the special,groundnut stew was made with fish, whereas I was used to this stew made with chicken. So, I had chicken fried rice instead, and a Star! After that we went in search of an ATM and ended up at the back of the market, wandering through all the little lanes, past houses, businesses, and all kinds of people going about their daily chores. Some of them spoke a little English and were able to point us in the right direction to the street. Very similar to the journey Annie and I made when we were in the market buying food for our cook group. Next we found an Internet Cafe and we rushed in with expectations of a quick check of hotmail, some connection to and from our friends and family, and generally catching up with the rest of the world. I logged on, and entered the hotmail url and waited........waited........waited......after about 30 minutes, the young boy helping me out gave up, and shouting at the women that I had paid for nothing, shrugged his shoulders. So, still no chance of communicating. We are hopeful that Freetown will have a decent Internet, although apparently Sierra Leone has unreliable electricity, and the Internet is renowned for being slow.
Not sure if I mentioned the significance of Bo to me. In the 30s and 40s my Dad had to take the train up to Yengema and it stopped at, or maybe even ended at Bo. SLST had a guest house here, and they used to spend the night before continuing their journey. I tried to find the old railway station, but it was quite far from where the truck stopped and I wouldn't have had the time to find it and get back to the truck. Walking around these African towns to look for a specific thing isn't easy like it is in our country. Many of the streets are not named, and the even if they were that wouldn't be a cert that people knew the street, so its more like the old station is near the post office which is near the Clock Tower which is just past the old Bo school. And so off you go asking the first person which way to go to reach the "old railway station". Then of course you also have to deal with the fact that they may not have understood you and just point down the road whether or not you are are going in the right direction. So, the chances are it would have taken quite a while to get there.
We reconoitered at 5 p.m. and set off for Kenema. Aminah is totally recovered, and purred along quite happily. We pulled into the Christian Mission in Kenema around 6:15. The grounds are amazing. Beautiful palm trees, planted in diagonal rows just like the fir trees in the Canadian forest. Soccer fields, where games were being played, tennis courts which were all in use, a chapel, bedrooms, a bar, and other buildings I haven't yet investigated. Everyone upgraded to a room, and so now, after dinner, chatting with a bunch of school kids, we are in our rooms ready for bed. Our conversation with a 12 year old, a 16 year old, and a 17 year old followed similar lines to my discussions with the 2 young boys in Masa. Disasatisfied youth outlining the countries problems. No decent education, no health care, no companies, and a goverment that has sold out the iron ore to China for 92 years. The young 16 year old couldn't believe that. Couldn't believe that his government could "give away" the resources in the country for so little reward. One point alarmed me. Both he, and the 25 year old in Masa when asked what they could do about the situation said: "We pray to Allah/Our God that our government will be good for the country and that we will have the things we need, jobs, education, health care, and commerce." I think of the opinion that part of the reason Quebec didn't develop as fast as the rest of Canada was because religion held it back. There are certainly missions here spreading Baptism, Roman Catholicism, Anglican, Presbyterian, etc. and these religions are practised along with some of the concepts of the traditional religions. The thing that bothers me is that the kids seem to think that by "praying" this is enough; everything will come right. They don't seem to understand....yet......that they, the youth, need to play a role in making things happen.
It is 11:09 p.m. and the hydro has just gone off. Time to sleep.
We were ready to leave our island paradise by 7:00 am and shortly thereafter, formed our crocodile down to the river and the rubber dingy (like a zodiac) to take us, and all of our gear, back to Kambuna. Cook group were already established there and we had breakfast and were on our way by 9:30 a.m.
Back over the same dirt road through all the amazing villages on the way with their mixture of painted plaster walls with metal rooves and rectangular mud brick walls with smooth, thatched rooves.
In every village without fail our passage through the village was welcomed. The little kids were the most animated. They would hear the noise of the truck, look up, first amazement crossed their faces, then their faces bloomed into smiles and recognition, then one hand waved, then two hands waved, then they started running along beside the truck, shouting until their voices faded into the remote African air what we can only assume were Mende words of welcome. The men were probably the next most energetic. The same awkening of recognition followed by enthusiastic hand waving and the "thumbs up" sign. The women were the most reserved, but they tended to be the most direct, and the connection between eyes set off sparks which will last forever.
Because of Aminah's problems, we had to head back to Bo and there we spent about 4 hours. This town starts to seep into your blood as you get to know it. First time around it seemed chaotic and without purpose. Second time, we got the layout, knew where to go to buy certain things, knew the banks, none of which had an ATM that worked, and got to know where the Diamond Merchants were. Since it was lunch time when we got there, we found a small restaurant in the centre of town, and wound our way up the irregular steps to sanity amidst the chaotic market and town below. Fans, loos with toilet paper, running water and soap, and good food. Unfortunately, the special,groundnut stew was made with fish, whereas I was used to this stew made with chicken. So, I had chicken fried rice instead, and a Star! After that we went in search of an ATM and ended up at the back of the market, wandering through all the little lanes, past houses, businesses, and all kinds of people going about their daily chores. Some of them spoke a little English and were able to point us in the right direction to the street. Very similar to the journey Annie and I made when we were in the market buying food for our cook group. Next we found an Internet Cafe and we rushed in with expectations of a quick check of hotmail, some connection to and from our friends and family, and generally catching up with the rest of the world. I logged on, and entered the hotmail url and waited........waited........waited......after about 30 minutes, the young boy helping me out gave up, and shouting at the women that I had paid for nothing, shrugged his shoulders. So, still no chance of communicating. We are hopeful that Freetown will have a decent Internet, although apparently Sierra Leone has unreliable electricity, and the Internet is renowned for being slow.
Not sure if I mentioned the significance of Bo to me. In the 30s and 40s my Dad had to take the train up to Yengema and it stopped at, or maybe even ended at Bo. SLST had a guest house here, and they used to spend the night before continuing their journey. I tried to find the old railway station, but it was quite far from where the truck stopped and I wouldn't have had the time to find it and get back to the truck. Walking around these African towns to look for a specific thing isn't easy like it is in our country. Many of the streets are not named, and the even if they were that wouldn't be a cert that people knew the street, so its more like the old station is near the post office which is near the Clock Tower which is just past the old Bo school. And so off you go asking the first person which way to go to reach the "old railway station". Then of course you also have to deal with the fact that they may not have understood you and just point down the road whether or not you are are going in the right direction. So, the chances are it would have taken quite a while to get there.
We reconoitered at 5 p.m. and set off for Kenema. Aminah is totally recovered, and purred along quite happily. We pulled into the Christian Mission in Kenema around 6:15. The grounds are amazing. Beautiful palm trees, planted in diagonal rows just like the fir trees in the Canadian forest. Soccer fields, where games were being played, tennis courts which were all in use, a chapel, bedrooms, a bar, and other buildings I haven't yet investigated. Everyone upgraded to a room, and so now, after dinner, chatting with a bunch of school kids, we are in our rooms ready for bed. Our conversation with a 12 year old, a 16 year old, and a 17 year old followed similar lines to my discussions with the 2 young boys in Masa. Disasatisfied youth outlining the countries problems. No decent education, no health care, no companies, and a goverment that has sold out the iron ore to China for 92 years. The young 16 year old couldn't believe that. Couldn't believe that his government could "give away" the resources in the country for so little reward. One point alarmed me. Both he, and the 25 year old in Masa when asked what they could do about the situation said: "We pray to Allah/Our God that our government will be good for the country and that we will have the things we need, jobs, education, health care, and commerce." I think of the opinion that part of the reason Quebec didn't develop as fast as the rest of Canada was because religion held it back. There are certainly missions here spreading Baptism, Roman Catholicism, Anglican, Presbyterian, etc. and these religions are practised along with some of the concepts of the traditional religions. The thing that bothers me is that the kids seem to think that by "praying" this is enough; everything will come right. They don't seem to understand....yet......that they, the youth, need to play a role in making things happen.
It is 11:09 p.m. and the hydro has just gone off. Time to sleep.
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