In Which Apparently Prayer Is The Answer To And Cause Of, Well, Everything
on Zoe Page (Sierra Leone), 02/Oct/2010 06:42, 34 days ago
I know it’s pointless, but I’m up and packed for 6.30am. When the driver arrives at 7am, I almost consider him on time. We load up the car, drive to the hospital to see Theresa, then leave her there and come to the house. It is somewhat improved. I now have a bed, but need to put cartons (?!) underneaththe mattress before I can sleep on it. I have normal curtains but still need wire mesh and hooks for my mosquito net. I have a living room suite (a sofa and 4 chairs), and a dining table...but no chairs for that. And the kitchen is still empty – it needs shelves and a couple of tables.An hour after dropping me, the driver is back, with Theresa. Only trouble is, I can’t let them in as the outside gate is bolted from the other side. Junior comes running down the road when I call him, and undoes it for us, but I cannot understand why Theresa couldn’t do that herself, until Junior comes inside and asks for my umbrella. Yep, it seems Theresa wouldn’t get out of the car in the rain... This is a crazy country, and don’t even get me started on those doors (what good is a bolt from the outside? Seriously, any robber could just undo it to let themselves in, and I can only do it when I’m going out. I really don’t get it)Everyone leaves, but since I’m here without a key, I can’t really go anywhere. Nor can I really unpack as drawers, wardrobe, even a table are luxuries I am currently without. So instead I have a shower and break out the Clinique (thanks Gaynor!) and then lounge around. The power comes and goes with the rain– not because it cuts out, but because they deliberately switch it off when there’s a downpour ‘so it’s not dangerous for children’. That’s #2 on things I just don’t get today – is it ok for the Pickin to play on the pylons when it’s dry? I have been reliably informed, however, that since the Chief of Police lives a few houses away, this area always gets its power back quite quickly. Where Maria lives, the supply has been down for over 3 months, which is why she has to rely on the school generator’s 4 hours of power per day.I eat lunch (questionable humus from a tin) and look out of the window. Then Junior returns and gives me a key. Apparently he has been shopping in town for the last 3½ hours. In that time has bought a ball of yarn and what looks like a bungee cord. I want to go out and he insists on accompanying me, past the nice near shop and to another identical one, a few minutes away, where I buy water, and realise that for all the local people can say‘Hello, how are you?’ they are then unprepared for any answer that doesn’t stop at ‘Fine’. Tag on a, ‘and how are YOU?’ and they get all in a tizzy. It’s still raining, but quite warm out. Sun dress + Wellies = Stylish. Umbrella + someone insisting on carrying it for you = OTT.I want to lie on my bed, but the mattress is still covered in plastic, and I don’t yet have my super important cartons so I don’t, and head to the living room instead. I’m impressed the carpenter managed to make so much in so few days (he apparently started on Monday) but I still don’t quite get why we couldn’t buy ready made stuff.Maria comes over and then, since he says he’s spoken to Mr Barry and he will come over ‘after Prayer’, we leave Junior to go out on some errands. Since Maria is kindly giving me her internet stick, we go first to the bank to pay for this month, and then to Sierratel, the provider, to give them the receipt. It seems an odd way to do things, and isn’t helped that the office is practically empty as everyone’s out at prayer (here a much more likely option than ‘out to lunch’). It costs £16.67 for a month, exorbitant by local standards, but a bargain for keeping me sane and online. I need to spend 13 hours a month online to make it better value than going to an internet cafe, but since they’re also often busy and/or out of power, even if I didn’t manage it (highly unlikely) it’s still preferable.We go to Leader Price (a supermarket whose name I want to rearrange every time I see it, just as I used to berate JP for telling me about his Service Church at the weekend). I buy more stuff which I count as coming from my equipment allowance– washing up liquid, sponges, serviettes – plus more water (it’s 5 block – that’s 500 Le – round the corner for one, but buy it in bulk and you get 20 for 4000, even if they are a bit heavy to carry). We get back to find Mr Barry the landlord has apparently been while I was out, but needed me to be there, so went away again. No entiendo.I need money, and the banks are about to shut for the weekend, so Maria calls a friend of hers who is our own personal money changer, and he comes to the house. It is absolutely like a drug deal– I give him a few notes, he gives me a big wodge – and feels well dodgy, but it’s the way Maria does it, and we were also told at ICT that it is better (no, really) to change money on the street than in, say, a bank. Either way, I get the same exchange rate we just saw in the bank, and without any commission, plus I have enough cash to buy all the upfront things I need – I’ve a hankering for a fan now I have electricity 24/7 (rain permitting).Mr Barry final shows up, all prayed out, but with no window mesh in tow. He does, however, have a rolled up piece of something which he sticks under my bed so the mattress doesn’t sink in the middle: in both Freetown and here at Maria’s I’ve woken up most nights in a newly formed dip in the middle of my bed. We have words over the lack of furniture and mesh, and his excuse is that it rained this morning. At least he didn’t say they had been busy praying all day...I make them hang my mossie net, and resolve to sleep with the windows shut for tonight at least. The hanging of the net is itself something of a circus, and he makes his apprentice-type stand on a stool on a chair (I kid you not) to hammer nails into the ceiling. It takes a while, but soon I have both a net and a bed newly made up with my ‘interesting’ sheets, which look, for want of a better description, like slightly psychedelic vomit.Next issue is the keys. Junior has been sleeping here for a few nights, but I say I want all the keys tonight (and, by default, I want him out). It takes them forever, in part because they’re slow, and in part because this place is literally like Fort Knox. First there’s a big gate, which you bolt and, when it’s night, padlock on the inside. Then there’s a sort of porch door, except the porch is metal railings. Then there’s an inner door and an outer door, both with keys and bolts. There’s a door at the top of the stairs, and of course my room has a door. They all lock so, if I can be bothered, I’ll be bolting and locking 6 doors behind me tonight...When they eventually leave, Maria and I walk back to Leader Price so I can get a fan, and she can take a picture of me holding it while sitting on an Ocada. It is perhaps one of the most bizarre photos ever, topped off by the fact that I, the passenger, have a snazzy helmet on, but the driver doesn’t. The fan costs 125 000 Le which comes out of my equipment allowance. I think it’s a pretty good deal – about £20, for a 3 speed oscillating affair – and they plug it in in the shop to prove to me that it works. Getting it back on the bike is fun/scary, but much easier than walking with it in tow.