In Which There's A Return Of Two Annoying Creatures
on Zoe Page (Sierra Leone), 24/Oct/2010 21:27, 34 days ago
My next door neighbours violently beating each other and less violently throwing buckets of water over each other almost puts me off my breakfast, but I manage to drown out the screams long enough to scoff down some porridge and banana with a side of Lariam. Even as I come back to my room to rinse off my laundry (having become one of those weird people who separates whites and colours, but only being able to do one each day due to bucket and washing line limitations) I can still hear the screams and groans. The houses here are a mixture of detached and semis, though I suspect most of the semis were once single houses that have since been split to accommodate two families. Mine is detached and sort of on a corner. I have a house at the back, and one to the side, and barbed wire all the way around to keep people (and animals) out. The house at the back has a flat roof, and yesterday I discovered it’s a favourite weekend playspot of the children in residence. Trouble is, when they’re up there and my balcony door is open, they can see right into my place and feel the need to call out to me until I acknowledge them (or leave for a less visible room).There’s not a lot of room between the houses really. I have maybe a meter between my building and the perimeter wall at the front, but the back’s a bit different as I have various outhouses (or outdoor kitchens as they’re supposed to be). To the side where my abusive neighbours are, there is room for a car. In fact, there is a car: a tatty old thing belonging to Mr Barry (who, random fact, lived in Germany for 9 years but speaks no German). Beyond that there’s a wall and beyond that is a one storey house (mine’s the only two-storey one for miles around) where, if my subtle observations are anything to go by, a number of men live. I’ve never seen a woman or a child there, and if I didn’t know better I would think it a student house since they’re all about the same age (maybe 15 – 30). I have no idea what has prompted the beatings this morning, but something tells me now is not the time to gaze out of my window and try to figure it out.You can hear quite a lot from my (noisy) neighbours. Sometimes the guy across puts a boombox on his porch and sits out. Most of the time, though, it’s football commentary. It’s weird to hear BBC English out here, but that’s who narrate the games they all listen to.Later on, as I sit out on my balcony in a brief bout between clouds, the passers by call out to me. To those my age or above I amSister, to childrenAunty. I suppose it’s better thanPumwi, but maybe it’s a Sunday special – everyone at church a few weeks wasSisterthis andBrotherthat.I cook lentils for lunch. I have no idea how to cook lentils, and the electricity is off so I can’t check online since I’ve already run down both my laptop batteries... These are Canadian lentils but aside from the portion size (1/7 of the tin) there’s no info on the label to help me. I add tomato stuff but it’s super concentrated so I add water and curry powder for good measure. It would never winCome Dine With Mebut it’s edible, and means I have not had to go downstairs for over 20 hours straight since everything I need is upstairs. On that note, let’s have some more house descriptions.Downstairs, once you’ve navigated the various gates and doors, you head through another trellised balcony into a ‘parlour’ (anything that’s a general living room). Also on this floor are 4 other rooms (should be bedrooms, but mainly storing the landlord’s building junk) and a poky bathroom I first went into on Friday when the outside tap was spewing orange water (so were all the inside taps I quickly discovered). As you walk upstairs there is a wall with a sort of lattice design, which means the house is not totally sealed, even with all the windows shut. I suspect this may be Mr Gecko Man’s route ofchoice.Upstairs there is a door to seal off this level of the house, almost as if it is two separate areas. There are upstairs and downstairs fuse boxes too. Random. To the left there are 4 bedrooms, one on the right hand side before the stupidly unnecessary steps and one on the left, plus one more on the left after the steps and mine right at the end . Two of the bedrooms are en suite (one with a bath, mine with a shower) and there’s an additional shower room too. There are no windowsills anywhere. I know it’s a weird thing to say, but I’d like to be able to put stuff on them, especially in a bathroom. There’s only so much you can fit on top of a toilet cistern, and the sink in my en suite is tiny too, barely big enough for toothbrush and toothpaste, and bottle of water (I was brushing my teeth in the stuff from the tap until it went all rust coloured. To ignore the potential for typhoid is one thing, to ignore water that is visibly dirty is another).To the right of the stairs I have a large open plan parlour which is split into a living room and dining alcove. The living room now has what I would call a sofa and 4 chairs, but what Daniel, on the inventory, calls 7 chairs. You can sort of see why, as the sofa is pretty much 3 chairs stuck together. The chairs are upholstered in a vaguely attractive cream, khaki green and black almost peacock feather print. I have 4 side tables (except 2 are now in my room, my prerogative as founding resident) and there’s a longer coffee table too, with a sort of rack underneath I’ve turned into a bookshelf.The dining table is simple wood, but the 6 uncomfy chairs are upholstered in the same fabric as before. Both table and chairs have un-sanded bits that splinter and catch if you’re not careful. I have what I’m hoping is a scratch at the top of my leg, because if not it looks like it could be some kind of parasitic worm. It’s a funny question mark shape, raised and thick, but doesn’t seem to be moving or squirming... Nurses reading this - opinions please.There is a tiny, useless sink in the dining alcove, and a larger metal thing in the kitchen. I also have a small table, barely big enough for my gas stove (and only just tall enough for my canister to fit under). I am still waiting for the other table for my water filter / worksurface space.I have various plugs throughout the house. Half of them don’t work or crackle alarmingly when you plug things in. Some of the rest don’t have normal shaped sockets – all are the UK 3-pin design, but some have round openings, not rectangular ones. Weird. Only half the lights have fittings in, and the ones that do won’t get changed when the bulbs go if it’s down to me: I think I’d rather live in the dark than use a side table as a stool, and balance it on a dining chair as the workmen did. All my bulbs are bare. I have not seen a single lamp shade since I move out here, with the exception of the fab ones in the cafe at the launch for the boat transfer when we first arrived.The middle of my parlour ceiling goes in and up, almost like a loft. There’s also a weird hole in my kitchen ceiling too, big enough for someone (or something) to climb through. Who knows who or what’s residing up there without my consent. All my floors are tiled. This is why I like living abroad – no silly carpets for my hair to get trodden in. Here, a quick sweepand it’s all sorted. It has been blissfully quiet without Junior this week. I wonder whether he’s finally got the hint...until I hear him calling my name from outside my gate. He has been in Freetown all week but is now back and wants to come and clean tomorrow. I remind him we agreed thatmaybewhen other people move in,ifwe want some help in the house I will let him know, but right now it’s just me and I cleaned yesterday. It’s a really weird culture when you have grown men getting miffed because you won’t let them clean your house...The kangaroo goat goes past, but this time it’s on a leash and, it seems, being taken for a walk by one of the neighbourhood children. The goat bleats and it sounds incredibly like a man impersonating a goat badly – all fake and enunciated.Baaaaaaaaaaa.With a slightly restrained bounce it’s off again.I eat more lentils for tea because although I can decant out of the can, and seal up in some tupperware, they still won’t be refrigerated. Can lentils go off? We’ll find out because, despite my best efforts, I can’t eat a whole can up in just 2 meals.