Banana Islands, Christmas 2012

Banana Islands lie southwest of the Freetown Peninsula in Sierra Leone. The two main islands, Dublin Island and Ricketts Island, are linked by a causeway (a stone walkway built by the slaves). Dublin Island is known for its beaches while Ricketts Island is best known for its forests. Mes0Meheux is the uninhabited third island of the Banana Islands. THis is where we spend our Christmas 2014. 

We stayed at the Banana Island Guest House http://www.bananaislandguesthouse-biya.org it was amazing! It is a small "resort" style place with 5 octagon shaped houses that are split into different private rooms for guests. We stayed in a room which had 2 queen size beds with mosquito nets, a single cushioned seat and a sofa with a coffee table. We had our own private spacious bathroom and both of our windows opened to an ocean front view. The guesthouse is owned and operated by the locals that live on the Banana Island (some even born there). All proceeds are given back within the community to help with the primary school as well as any other things the small village needs (there are only about 900 people that live on both the islands). 

We had to drive from our house at Bottom Mango around the internal road of the peninsula.  We passed through Regent, went through Waterloo and crossed around through Tumbo and passed Mama Beach (another great resort so I have heard).  We took the turn headed towards Kent passed Burah Beach (great surfing spot) and finally landed at a single pole "security station".  The whole driving time took about an hour and a half. This time will probably be cut in half once all the roads are completely paved.  A guy in a yellow shirt met us and guided us to where our driver should park the car so we were able to unpack our bags. As a family, yes Colossus included, we cautiously walked over the broken glass and headed to the water.  There was another couple, British, at the shore waiting for us to arrive so we could take a upscale traditional boat. I say it was upscale-traditional because it was carved out tree but it had a canopy and an engine!  The drive across the water was extremely relaxing for me, cautiously hitting the waves and rolling over the tops of them and gently rocking back and forth when the boat came to a stop while waiting for the locals to pull up fishing nets to check their catch. This for me was the beginning of paradise. For Mo, on the other hand, the boat ride consisted of 25 minutes of not talking but gritting his teeth in case the sensation of motion-sickness became too much to bare.  Luckily though, thanks to Dramine and the anti-motion-sickness pressure point wrist bands it never came to that point. 

We passed several local fisherman boats, their nets looked heavy with the fresh fish they were bringing on board. We gave a friendly wave and continued on. Arriving to the guesthouse was beautiful! The beach seemed clean, there were smiling faces waiting us and we could see a scatter of tables and chairs where we could eat! I was excited to get out! One worker helped to carry Jackson to the shore while another took Colossus' dog crate; I refused to allow them to hold him.  Once on shore they graciously showed us to our room. When we walked in it was a sense of “This is Africa” but not in a bad way, just as this is what a resort looks like in a 3^rd world country.

After settling in for a few minutes we decided that it would be nice to sit at one of the tables to rest and take in the relaxing view. We were immediately greeted by smiling faces asking us what we would like to eat for lunch. Looking at the menu it took me only a brief second before saying “Lobster!” Mo ordered lobster too! 

Almost immediately one of the men working there wadded into the water and opened up a cage. He walked up the beach towards us and waited for our approval of the size of the lobster before heading up towards the kitchen.  While waiting for food, Mo and I sat and enjoyed listening to the waves crashing on the sand. Jackson on the other hand, was playing in the sand only to turn around and complain that his hands were sandy. LOL. Oh kids!

 

Getting Clothes Made

The benefits of living in a 3^rd world country (for me at least) is the availability and affordability of getting clothes custom made for me. I am not a picky person when it comes to clothing except that I want them to fit properly.

A trick that I have learned about myself is I need to know what I am going to look for or else I end up buying almost everything.  Before I went to the fabric market the last time I printed out several pictures of dresses and skirts that I wanted to recreate. I then began thinking about what type of material I wanted to buy (if I could find it locally or if it would be considered an imported material).  Then I could set out with list in hand how many yards I would need for each outfit. For me, 1 yard can make a skirt or a short sleeve shirt. And 2 – 2 ½ yards will make a dress, depending on how long the dress.

There is an area in Freetown called Fabric alley. It is a very narrow street overflowing with colorful fabric being hung from every place possible! There are local vendors on both sides in homemade stalls yelling and trying to attract the attention from any passersby to sell their fabric. Behind the stalls are actually small locally owned fabric shops. These shops are fairly dark inside due to the lack of electricity in the area and the only source of natural light is being blocked by the venders outside. Personally, I prefer to buy off the streets because the prices seem to be cheaper and the quality is the same.

My latest fabric shopping adventure I set out on I was quickly engulfed in the amount of choices that I had. Although I originally said that I am not picky, I am selective when it comes to the material that I buy. Several materials here are 100% cotton but feel more like plastic and are very stiff. The market women try and convince me that after several washes that the material will be as soft as my H&M shirt that I am wearing. Yeah, I don’t believe that.  I searched through several beautiful patterned selections and often came up empty handed but that didn't discourage me, I just walked 2 steps over to the next woman selling fabric. There are hundreds, if not thousands of patterns to choose from. It can become slightly overwhelming.

Fabrics found here are local fabrics from the providence to Ghanaian to other West African countries. Each country has a descent style and color pattern used and are easily identifiable from others.  I knew I wanted several Sierra Leonean fabrics but I also wanted the traditional Ghanaian fabric as part of a piece for a dress.

After looking at over a hundred pieces of different materials, some passed my inspection and then the bargaining began.  Bargaining is a skill that I have not honed to perfection so I typically leave it to either my driver, Kofi to deal with or my husband. While they are doing the negotiations I slide off to investigate the surrounding materials in other stalls just in case the price does not come to where I think it should. The local material I was able to get to the price that I wanted 10,000 Leones ($2.33) per yard (a few were put to 8,000 Leones ($1.86)). The Ghanaian fabric however was much more expensive but I wanted it so bad I didn’t care. I ended up paying 15,000 Leones ($3.49) per yard.  To me, knowing exactly what I was looking for made the selections easier, but that doesn’t mean that extra fabric here and there didn’t slip in. This has turned into one of my addictions.  

When I am looking for specific hard to find materials (such as jean and silk) I go to EuroTex. It is a fabric store two street in front of the fabric market. This has a huge selection of imported fabric from silk to lace to jean to sheer material and everything in between.  Things here are on average more expensive than the street prices, but at the same time, this is the only place you can find this.  I ended up leaving EuroText with silk and jean material both were at the price of 12,000 Leones ($2.79) per yard.

Once back home I immediately called my personal tailor to meet me at my house to collect everything I had so he could create the masterpieces that I would soon wear! He arrived at my house with a notebook in hand (I warned him it was going to be a lot). I had each piece laid out on the table with the print off of the dress I wanted to replicate on top. This must have been the easiest job he had ever had. There was no guessing explaining of what I wanted. There was a picture and he was to make it exactly like that. After he took my measurements, he took Jackson’s and Mo’s also. They were getting matching pants to wear on the beach together. So cute, huh?

We explained several times (no picture for these…stupid me) what we wanted these pants to look like. Extremely loose, long baggy beach pants with a drawstring in the front. There was to be no buttons and no formal crease line in the front. Simple enough, right?

The clothes came back and mine were almost perfect! A take in here and a let out there but the styles were exactly what I wanted! I couldn’t have been happier! Mo and Jackson’s pants though were a different story. They looked like dress pants with a perfectly pressed crease on the front of them, they were tight and too short. After re-explaining to the tailor (again, I didn’t print off a picture) what we wanted he took the pants back and tried again. A few days later he arrived back with my dresses that fit like a glove and Mo and Jackson’s pants that were…better but not right still.  Jackson’s pants were doable and he can wear them around the house. Mo’s pants, on the other hand, were still too tight! Back to the drawing board for the poor tailor. The third and final time we got the pants back Mo accepted them. They are now not beach pants but “wear around the house ONLY” pants. I think they look good, but the material has left tell-tell signs of being continuously let out. The scar from each stitch that was removed is visible if you look closely.

The total cost: 5 dresses + 1 skirt + 1 shirt + 2 Jackson’s pants + 2 Mo’s pants = 340,000 Leones ($79)

Material cost: 240,000 Leones ($55)

Total Cost: 580,000 Leones ($134) …………………Oh a side note, there is still enough material for at least two or three more dresses!

To me, this was and is amazing! I am going to make 2 outfits a month from him.  

Halloween 2012

I couldn’t wait for Halloween! This was going to be the first Halloween that Jackson truly could grasp the idea and concept. I had a doctor’s coat made for him from the local tailor and had planned to take him to the school’s Halloween Party. That was until it became the moving day…

All of our questions that we asked the new landlord the night before (Tina) were simply hushed away and told not to worry about things will work out. She told us that we needed to move before the start of the month so he could not claim we were still there and could not claim that he should not have to pay us back. Here in Sierra Leone, expats required to pay for one year upfront. Typically two or three years upfront can be demanded. Therefore, we had been at the Goderich house from August to the end of October but had paid until the end of July. We were in a sticky situation needing to get refunded from the crappy landlord to pay the new landlord.

Anyways, she insisted that we move the next day, which happened to be Halloween. It was either that or stay in Goderich. That decision was a very easy one to make. We went home the night that we spoke with Tina and started packing! Things were thrown in random bangs and nothing was slowly packed! It was a mad race to get back to sanity!

Halloween came and I went to work as normal with Jackson. Hawa, our maid, met us at the school to learn about the new developments. I couldn’t tell who was happier, us or her that we were leaving Goderich. She often told me locals live in better conditions than we were living there and tried to convince we several times to look for a new place.

Luckily, Mo did not have to work that day and was able to pack the car with all the belongings that we had with our driver, Kofi. Together they brought everything we owned from Goderich to Bottom Mango to our new house. By the time I off from work and made it to my new place of residency (I walked the first day because the boys were still in transit bringing the last of our things), Hawa had already unpacked a lot of things and attempted to make the house look as homey as possible! It was so sweet that she cared that much. 

Later that night, Mo, Kofi and I had to go to town to buy a refrigerator and a stove. We bargained the total price to 2,000,000 Leones ($465). Somehow the Nissan Pathfinder was able to pack everything inside her and carry us back home safely. The refrigerator was stood up, rested and turned on 5 hours later.  The propane tank was bought the next day and cooking in our new kitchen was now complete!

Gradually over the next few weeks items got added to our apartment: a leather couch, a dining room table, a custom made bed frame for us, and decorations on our wall. This time, we felt like we were home. We had moved from Hell to Paradise in less than 24 hours. This was a Halloween that I will never forget.

The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back

 The straw that broke the camel’s back was when the front gate broke and there were locals coming in and out of the compound. They were fighting, arguing, drunk and high. Unacceptable when there is a child living on the premises!

The crappy landlord refused to fix the gate stating that he cannot tell people not to come onto his property because they might get mad. Mad?!? Really!? What is the point of having a security gate if everyone can just walk in or better yet, if it is broken?? We requested several times and the requests went nowhere. We were at the point of just gathering our things and leaving Sierra Leone for good!

The dean at my school was not being helpful and her saying was the most frustrating of all. She would always say “TIA! TIA!” (This is Africa)  I started to think that, that kind of mentality was the problem with Africa! Instead of trying to fix situations or improve them, things were constantly swept under the TIA rug. Unacceptable! Especially for a dean who already had a 100% turn-over of her ex-pat staff the first year she was there. We were lost and confused and depressed. We wanted to go back to Egypt.  At the last moment though the clouds parted and a small ray of sunlight beamed through.

One of my student’s parents offered for us to come and look at her flat that she had for rent. This was October 30, 2012. The flat was located at Bottom Mango about a 20 minute walk or a 10 minute car ride from the school; Goderich was about a 40 minute car ride (on a good day at times 2+ hours one way) from school and no chance of walking! It was a large 4 story building with several flats.  She showed me the first one, a decent sized 2 bedroom 1 bathroom apartment. This one looked HUGE compared to the Goderich house. We looked around and she told me that certain things needed to be done before we could move in.  The balcony was extremely large and faced the street. It had the ocean view from a distance. I didn't care; it was not Goderich so I was happy. Then she showed me the second flat that she had.  We opened the single wide glass door to an almost seemingly never-ending hallway! I was speechless! We walked down the hallway to the first bedroom. It was spacious and I could already see Jackson’s toys thrown everywhere and him having a blast! Then it was the bathroom on the left. When the door opened the sunlight from the window lit up everything beautifully! There was a standing shower and a soaking tub (nothing extravagant but since TIA it looked like the best one I have ever seen!) There was plenty of space to move around, plenty of storage space and plenty of light!  A little further down the hallway was the second bedroom. This bedroom was the same size as the first one and the closet was also the same great size. Farther down was the kitchen. There was no refrigerator or oven or stove. But to me it was perfect! It wasn't Goderich! The kitchen had a door that opened to the living room which was a decent size and a long balcony that faced the ocean! In my head I kept thinking, “This is what Sierra Leone is supposed to look like for me! This is how I am supposed to feel!”

Immediately after I felt so wonderful, a feeling of dread ran over my body. There is no way I can afford this. How will I pay? How do I get my money back from the crappy landlord? How do I do this? How do I do that? Just as quick as I felt the slightest bit of relief and new wave of panic and depression set in. I saw where I could be living, but now because of the situation I am in I can’t! I hung my head as Mo finally reached the flat. He had driven from Goderich to the flat and it had taken him almost 3 hours thanks to traffic. His first reaction was the same as mine and I quickly saw the desperation and wave of sadness enter his eyes when the reality of money set in. How? That was now the huge mountain sized question that was before us.

A Nightmare turned to Hell

Back in the nightmarish conditions of the first house we lived in….this is the story of where the nightmare possibly turned into Hell.

I was not at home this day, I was at work.  Mo allowed the maid to go home early that day and was sitting with Jackson playing around the house (outside because there was no electricity).  All of the sudden Mo said he heard screaming and yelling! When he walked outside he saw the gardener/security guard running around yelling “She’s got a knife she is going to kill me!” Chasing him was the pregnant wife with a knife screaming, “He’s a thief! He stole from you! He’s a criminal!”  My son witnessed this, even with how quick Mo moved Jackson from outside to inside the dark, hot house, my son still witnessed this crazy chaos!

Moments later the pregnant wife was on the ground seizing. Surprisingly, my husband helped her to her feet and tried to calm her down. Why did he do that? Because he is nicer than me! I would have called the cops on both of them.

Later when Mo told the landlord about the situation that arose, his answer was the same, “This is Africa.”

The Female Circumcision

The female circumcision better known as female genital mutilation.

This is a practice that I was not too familiar with until I came to Sierra Leone. I have heard of it being done in lesser and lesser amounts around the world, but I never would have thought that it would have been done in literally my own backyard!  While sitting in our ghetto poor house in Goderich, music began to loudly be played. We could hear what I can best describe was a parade getting closer and closer to the house. You could hear people talking and singing. It sounded like a party! 

Speaking with the local that lived on the property with us, I learned that it was a female circumcision party. A WHAT?!?!? I couldn't believe how easily that rolled off of his tongue. It slid off his tongue like ice cream sliding from a spoon warmed by the summer's heat. My mouth dropped open and I began to think about the young girl that was the subject of this inhumane torturous treatment. My heartbroken for her but I began to accept that this country was full of savages that had no idea the risk that she was being placed under or the parents (especially the mother) that had not heart or soul. Someone who could bare to watch their child, probably no older than 12, suffering an unnecessary pain.

My thoughts then went to when that child, if she survived the procedure, ran a risk of have severe complications. My heart broke for her. The people she had looked up to to guide, support and protect her were now the ones who she could not count on to keep her free from pain. Very sad.

After speaking with a local that I am close to about how upsetting that was for me, she told me that it is not as common as I think. I learned that the Krio tribe is against that and hasn't participated in the practice for a long time. Her tribe, Mende, however, still occasionally performed the ritual on young girls. She confided in me that her mother had allowed the procedure to be done on her and she horrifically explained what happened to her and the pain that followed. I had tears in my eyes. She continued by telling me that her mother has since apologized for allowing that to be done to her and continuously asks her for forgiveness. I completely believe her when she told me that she understood that her mother did not know any better and she doesn't hold her responsible for her actions.  She admitted that today still in her small village the practice is still going on and she refuses to be apart of her village for that very reason. 

How difficult it must be for her to know that she doesn't fully fit into Freetown because it is not her true home, yet she no longer feels the connection with her home village because of a traditional practice in which she wants no part of. By the way, she is mother to two daughters and neither have had the procedure done. This caused huge strife between herself, her mother, and her village. She is such a strong woman and stood by what she felt was right and safe for her child. I admire her tremendously for breaking the cycle.

Sierra Leone is the small maroon 

country located on the Atlantic Ocean side of Africa    (95-100%)

Eid in Sierra Leone

Coming to Sierra Leone (a Muslim country) during Ramadan seemed like a great idea! Well…it was a learning experience to say the least. Just because on Wikipedia it says Sierra Leone is a Muslim country it does not mean that the Islamic feeling of Ramadan is here.  Most Muslims that we met did not fast during the Holy month of Ramadan. We felt alone in this country during this time. For Eid, Mo was adamant that we should buy tons of meat so we could feed the local poor people. Eid in Sierra Leone did not feel like Eid. It felt like just another day. We bought ribs, liver, goat, kofta, and other meats to grill on our newly bought local grill! It was delicious! We invited our maid to come over that day, not to work, but to just eat. We provided food for 7 other people as well. At the end of the day, the point of Eid was successful but the feeling was always lacking. We missed our family back in Egypt more than ever.

Bugs!

One night while sitting on the uncomfortable, bamboo, old couch. There was an ant walking on the wall. Mo, without thinking hit the wall to kill the ant. Within seconds the whole wall was covered with ants escaping from the ceiling! The wall changed from a creamy yellow color to a black color! We both screamed and jumped up. We quickly moved the couch away from the area and Mo decided that hitting the waterlogged bellowing ceiling where the ants were emerging from would be a great idea. It wasn't  (Shocking, huh?) When he hit it a small section of what we originally thought to be ceiling fell to the floor. On closer investigation we realized that it was not in fact part of the ceiling but a huge collection of ant bodies that were not racing across the floor to safety. I think that night we emptied an entire can of bug spray on the wall and the surrounding floor.

A week or so later while sitting outside on the balcony (because there was no power and it was too hot to be inside) I drank a coke. When I was placing my cup on the ledge I used my phone as a light to guide where I should place the cup.  The white pearl looking ledge was black with white dots and moving! Of course I freaked out and yelled to turn on the generator! Once the lights were on we noticed that the black things were ants (of course) and the white dots were their eggs. The ants were moving nest spots from under the ledge to God only knows where. Another can or two of bug spray was emptied, gasoline was used to spray around the areas (in case any other ants wanted to join the party) and semi-relaxation began again. After all, we are in Africa, right?  About 20 minutes after that ordeal was over, Mo looked at the wall leading into the house! The white stucco was black and moving! Screaming and cursing and yelling and anything else you can think of was part of the process we had now become accustomed to when empting a can of big spray somewhere in our house due to the amount of the ant infestation. Mo managed to kill all of them and then swept up their bodies into the dustpan. There were so many dead ant bodies that it covered and made a layer in the dust pan!

Thank goodness we had a maid. Not only was Colossus keeping her busy by crawling under the covers of the freshly made bed, but the clothes were too.  Daily she would take the clothes out of our closets shake them out. There was thousands, if not millions of tiny tan balls. They were perfectly cut or laid. None of us could figure it out! One day after taking a few in a bag to my school so the locals could look at them it was determined that they were caused by, you guessed it, ants! The ants were digging into the wood of the closet and shelves producing these perfectly shaped tan looking balls. There was nothing we could do about it accept the fact that we live in Africa.  

We knew coming to Sierra Leone that mosquitoes are a huge problem since they carry the Malaria virus. Jackson came with a large pre-treated mosquito net and we decided that we could tough it out!  Nightly we would spray each room and close the door for 30-45 minutes waiting for all the mosquitoes in the rooms to die. Then we would open the doors and let it air out for about 15 minutes before subjecting ourselves to breathing in the remaining chemicals in the air. This was a nightly routine! I had a lingering guilt in my gut every night that I was causing so much internal harm to Jackson due to the chemical but there was no other choice that I had. I am very grateful for Jackson’s mosquito net due to a “visitor” we had over night.

Every morning I wake Jackson by singing a song. It is something I have done since he was 1 day old. It is a song that I made up (somehow since I am not creative) and it stuck. I walked into Jackson’s room and was midways through the song when something glistened and caught my eye. It was a huge spider! Light brown with eyes that sparkled when light caught them correctly! I screamed! (As you can tell I did that a lot while living in this house.) Mo ran in. By this time Jackson was wide awake and staring at the spider from under the safety of his mosquito net. He slowly pointed at the spider and told us to kill it. Of course!! Mo threw a shoe at the spider, it jumped and ran FAST! There were shoes flying, bug spray spraying, me helping by screaming and Jackson just watching patiently. Eventually the giant critter was dead. After all, this is Africa, right?

Here is a picture of the spider:

Time in Sierra Leone so far....The first house

I knew keeping this blog thing would be impossible for me...but here I am again, trying.

To Recap:

We moved to Sierra Leone from Sheikh Zayed, Egypt on August 2, 2012. We made this trip as a family. My husband, Mo, our almost 3 year old son, Jackson, and our almost 6 year old Chihuahua, Colossus.

The first house we lived in was a nightmare. We cried almost every night. It was in Goderich and in the ghetto. Once we turned off the main road we traveled on an uneven ditch-filled, water pipe busted, "local" road.  We drove past tin roofed shacks where the local poor people lived and the local dunk men would often shout at our car demanding money for the "security" they provided for us. This was never the case. My husband every now and then would roll down the window and offer 5,000 Leones to them. This seemed like a nice gesture but only encouraged them to increase the harassment. Once we made it around the final turn a red, rusted, wired held together gated greeted us. This was our new "home". Once inside the gate the local black and white dog named Blackie would greet us. We parked the black 1996 Nissan Pathfinder on the uneven terrain and then walked up to the house through another gate. Our house was very small. Usually you would describe a house as small and cozy but that latter word is not one to describe this. The house was hot, dark, dull, uncomfortable, insect ridden, and depressing. Of a typical 30 day month we did not have electricity 25 of the days.  It was too small to move around in even with our small family. There was 2 bedrooms a kitchen which only one person could fit semi comfortably in at a time, a dinning/living room, and a tiny bathroom in which the door could not be opened fully due to hitting the sink. The landlord (half Sierra Leonean/half Lebanese) lived on the same compound and across stoop from us. There was also a "security guard/gardener" that lived on the premise too in a one room shack.

While living in the house we hired a maid to help with the house work, even though the house was tiny the bugs would overwhelm me. We had her come into the house Monday to Friday and used gasoline to mop the floors to keep the ants and other crawling critters away. Nothing worked though and the landlord often told us, "This is Africa what do you expect?"