Cassava Leaves & Mud Cakes - 22nd August 2007

Went to the coolest place for lunch; D’s Bazaar, in Freetown. The kitchen is basically a landing on the stairs, with a couple of gas rings, and pots everywhere. It is expertly managed by two cheerful cooks. The first-floor café was bright and clean, with colourful tablecloths and plastic flowers. We got a table by the balcony, and ate spicy cassava leaf stew (which had ‘cow meat’ in it), with rice, and a delicious dish of ‘special rice’, which consisted of spicy, tasty rice served with fried chicken and fish. We drank Star beer.



In the afternoon, I went to the Freetown post office - the only place you can buy postcards - and walked around the centre of the capital, where, being white and female, lots of people shouted to try to get my attention, to buy their wares or just to say hello. There wasn’t any difficult or uncomfortable hassle, except that I wanted to buy some chillies in exchange for taking a picture of a fantastically colourful market stall, but the women running it wanted to charge me a fortune for the privilege. I didn’t have that kind of cash, and didn’t want to feel ripped-off, so I contented myself with buying what looked like flour-covered pastries, possibly similar to baklava. They felt curiously heavy and solid, but the girl who sold them to me didn’t speak enough English to tell me what they were, other than that they were “rich”.

I took my treasures, which smelled spicy and sweet, to the office where my father was working. I asked his colleagues what I had bought. They said they were hand-rolled, dried sea mud, which was full of minerals and meant for pregnant women to eat. They're called 'wojo', meaning clay in Creo. Not to be discouraged, I gave one a go – after all, they were so fragrant! But, unsurprisingly for dried mud, my mouth was filled with an almost tasteless, ashy, dry, powdery substance and grit. I’m sure they’re very nutritious…

Lebanese Mezze

Supper was fantastic Lebanese mezze served in the Lighthouse Restaurant - another comparatively pricey seafront eaterie. I didn’t enjoy the atmosphere here as much as in other places, but that may have been because there were less people around (it was raining and there was one of the metropolis-wide power cuts). But the surroundings were beautiful, and we thoroughly enjoyed the food! Our selection included fattoush, tabbouleh, mutabel, little spicy sausages and meatballs encased in rice and fried. Oh yeah, and we drank Star beer. Then finished off with rum.

There is a strong Lebanese presence in Sierra Leone, with loads of second and third generation Lebanese running thriving businesses, and Sierra Leoneans feeling “like bothers” towards their Lebanese friends.

Hangover Healing - 31st August 2007

Too hungover for lunch, I walked on the beach and bought a bottle of water from Harry’s Bar – was this the same bar that was portrayed in Blood Diamond?

I didn’t have the energy to cope with continually telling blokes to go away, and instead let one boy walk with me, which stopped others from trying. In the end, though, he was arguing with me that he did love me and want to marry me, and why didn’t I like him, so I told him to go away. The next time I got approached I just said “No”, and walked on. My head was hurting!

After the beach, I went to visit my new friends, Foday and Abu, who I had met in Paddy’s. They said they would get me a couple of mix CDs, of the best Sierra Leonean music. I also made a new pal, Lou-Lou, who invited me to her place anytime for a meal (and a spliff). I never had the chance to take her up on the offer, but she was a lovely, bubbly girl and I’ll definitely visit if I ever go back.

Back to Basics

The construction of the houses in Sho-Sho Village vary from stone foundations with mud and stone walls and tin roofs, to a jigsaw of corrugated metal, wooden structures, plastic sheeting and anything else suitable that was obtainable at the time. Whatever they are made of, the houses are kept tidy and clean, and are a lot less depressing than equivalent one-room flats in London can be. The whole place smells pleasantly of charcoal and soap.

Preconceptions about different lifestyles meant that I was surprised at how wholesome the existence in Sho-Sho was. How can I have been so patronizing and had so little empathy as to think that people would just slum it and be used to that, just because they’re living with very little? When people have very little, they take good care of what they do have, and the tranquil atmosphere of Sho-Sho gave more of an impression of acceptance of circumstances than want. Squalor or need would not have entered my mind, as I watched healthy little Emmanuel giggling while he was soaped and scrubbed down by his brother. Instead, I am ashamed to admit that I felt a touch envious - these people have such a strong community, close and supportive family and few material aspirations. It all seemed so thoroughly pure, and a recipe for the ultimate in mental health.

Of course, everyone expresses a desire to go to Europe or the U.S. and get a job, but they don't have expectations or take anything for granted. I would feel uncomfortable and unhappy about taking anyone out of that situation to give them 'opportunities' in Europe, because they'd loose so much in terms of community and general contentment.

These guys also eat much better than many western people, simply because convenience and processed foods are not an option. Organic rice, super-fresh fish, vegetables and spices, cooked over an open fire, are the only choice, and the people I spoke to don’t actually want to eat “rich foods”, preferring sticky rice and cassava leaf stew with fish, to meat and chips.

Life expectancy must be low only because of the lack of a welfare state and medical services. If you get sick and have no money you might die, but everyone’s ‘natural’ health must be better from the clean diet and tropical climate. The constantly warm climate adds to a general feeling of wellbeing, which is of course also known to lengthen human lives. But I did keep in mind that sometimes the villagers can’t afford to buy enough rice, and rely on each other for food at difficult moments.

After the beach walk, social visit, and a nap, my hangover had eased up and my father took me to Alex’s again, for supper, where I had a medicinal G&T, followed by tasty moussaka, chips and a lush-but-over-dressed salad. Pa had barbequed fish and draft Star.

P.S Sorry about the total lack of photos for today - my mind wasn't on the job...