In Which Ice Is Just Frozen Water...Even In Africa
on Zoe Page (Sierra Leone), 21/Oct/2010 19:55, 34 days ago
Most Outrageous Things Seen On An Ocada Today1. A double mattress2. A big ol’ DHL box of...something3. Various school girls in full uniform, including little flat caps. Oddly no school boys.4. A toddler, no more than 2 years old, sandwiched between driver and teen girl (? mother). No helmets in sight.5. (Different) driver actually wearing a helmet...except it’s not so much a helmet as it is a hard hat. Probably stolen from a Chilean miner.6. Highly inappropriate Pumwi indecently flashing lots of leg due to wearing of inappropriate skirt in slight wind, and having to hold on tight to bag and bike, and since not a nice Hindu God, no spare hand to preserve modesty.Oh wait, that last one was me.The Gecko has now taken up residence in the bathroom. I wedge open the little window to encourage him out.When Theresa finally calls to say she’s in town, I jump on a bike to get to the hospital swiftly, my other option having been to go earlier and wait around for her. I see Cliff and ask him if he is working today. Answer? A slightly wounded:I am at place of work so I am working. Except you’re not, you’re lounging around talking to me. Theresa calls me over to a different Dr S’s office. This is going to get confusing. This is Medical Superintendent Dr S, not DMO Dr S. There is another Dr S who is CMO. Yikes. Latest Dr S (now to be called Dr S2) is going to take over my management. I am not allowed to go work for the IRC since we have no partnership with them, so instead will be based in the hospital, not in the DHMT (which, confusingly, is also based in the hospital physically, if not spiritually). This is most promising: they show me my office, my actual office. Sure, it needs a light fitting, and a fan might be nice, plus someone should really sweep the Casava off the floor, but there is an actual space with actual walls and an actual ceiling, not to mention actual bookshelves. It is all set, so I can start work...on Monday. So, another 4 days of sun, then (plus some fretting over whether, beyond an actual office, there is an actual job for me).Theresa and Bernard drop me off at Choitram’s, which has brought in the start of its Christmas range (or maybe its full Christmas range?) Bell shaped biscuits, looking rather home made (just in sandwich bags, no labelling). Cheap, Pounland style metallic drum decorations. Mini ornamental parcels from the same range. I walk to my favourite bread lady then on to my favourite Lebanese run place (Choitram’s being Indian). Maria left me a cooler and told me she used to buy ice blocks from the supermarket occasionally to make a quasi-fridge. I’ve not seen them yet, but today I will investigate. I open all the freezers. I find ice creams, frozen veg, butter and various assorted carcases, but no ice, so I ask. There is a secret freezer next to the till. It has frozen packets of Family Choice in it, but no ice blocks. Oh wait, theyarethe ice blocks. I guess I was imagining blocks of ice, not packets of frozen water (don’t laugh, though this tenuous grasp of science explains why I am in no way suited to the reading of scientific proposals of any kind). But the idea grows on me immediately: buy the water frozen, use it to chill things until it melts and then drink it. No messing, no waste. And, the same price as anon-frozen pack of water. Genius. I buy a couple of these, and a couple of the bulk packs of water too. Plus some juice and diet coke. That makes over 22 litres of fluid. Fidel offers me someone to help me home, but I’d feel obliged to tip them the same as an Ocada would cost, so I decline, and simply get them to help me onto a bike instead. The 20 litres of water sit where a child would if I were the worryingly laissez-faire mother I spotted earlier. I get home in one piece, as does the water. Result.A quick check of the bathroom tells me the Gecko has gone! Yay, well done Mr Gecko Man. I’m just washing my hands when I see a flash of tail. He has not gone. He is hiding behind the door, actually on the hinge. Bizarrely there is a Gecko-shaped splat stain behind him, but it is in fact paint. I’m reassured to know this as otherwise I might have had a heart attack tonight during mydusky shower (the light in the bathroom has gone, so back to torchlight). Though I still might if he insists on staying where he is, and I forget and slam the door.Another sunny day. I sit out at the back and read, come in for a break (and a Kitkat), sit out on the front balcony. Before you sarcastically thinkIt’s a hard lifelet me tell you...it kind of is. Sure, reading is all well and good, but there is nothing else to do here. I cannot watch TV. I cannot go to the movies. I cannot go for a walk in a park (there are none), do any more shopping than I already am (no money, plus, no shops) or do anything remotely touristy. I can’t even encourage myself to go out for a meal (alone) because Capitol is too pricey for non-occasions, and I haven’t yet worked up the courage to ask the Falafel place to break with tradition and leave the icky fries out of my wrap. If I want to go to Freetown I have to catch a bus at 5.30am andsit on it for 5 hours, surrounded by chickens and children roaming the aisles (Maria’s possibly conservative description: I'm in no hurry to find out). I can’t go to the gym (none in town) or for a run outside (too hot). I cannot try to meet people because all anyone wants is to stroke my skin(adults included) or ask for money. In other words all I can do is laze around the house all lonesome, taking a break from reading to snack, and taking a break from snacking to read, with the occasional fretting that this blog has but 9 followers. Sympathy? Please?Also, consider this: if I had started work when I should have done, I would have had approximately 100 free days to fill, split into 2 day weekends. Due to not working, I have already had 22 on the trot. That’s longer than I’d ever spend on holiday, even on a civilised city break, or a package deal with a pool and night time ‘entertainment’ and tacky souvenir shops to browse. No wonder I feel all read out.P.S. Yes, I could go to church but....no. No I couldn’t. Never again.