So I’ve finally got around to giving some detail to my trip to Kenema towards the end of March. It was fairly momentous – perhaps only for me – and gave me some first-hand experience of both my organisation’s work and what life is really like for people in a rural setting here in Sierra Leone.
(If you haven’t worked it out already, this isn’t going to be the usual ironic, trying-to-be-funny stuff I usually write.)
The embers of the maternity unit
In February, a fire totally demolished a significant portion of the Kenema Government Hospital – including the whole of the maternity unit that my organisation supports. The maternal death rates in Sierra Leone are some of the worst in the entire world – one in 8 mothers die as a result of a pregnancy-related complication – which means the work that we do is essential in not only raising the standards of health care but actually in saving lives there and then.
So when the fire ravaged the maternity unit, which we have done so much to develop, it meant that so much was lost. The worst being the fact that word of mouth spread about the fire, meaning that the rate of women admitting themselves for a hospital birth plummeted in the following month – despite the arrangement of a temporary area within the units of the hospital that survived.
At the end of my visit to Kenema, I took a visit with our Reproductive Health Coordinator to the hospital. It was heartbreaking, as there was simply nothing left of the previous structure. All the work we’d done in construction, purchasing equipment and generally raising standards to tackle the horrifying mortality and morbidity statistics for mother and child – were gone in an instant. Seeing it first-hand left a sour taste, especially considering it’ll take a year and a million dollars (yet to be funded) to build again.
A very Salonian census
The main reason I was in Kenema was to assist a colleague from New York to conduct a census of villages in which we implement community-based distribution of medicine for children under five. The basic premise is to conduct a mortality survey after one year, to ascertain the differences we are making. In order to do this, we needed to take said census of the catchment we are going to use to measure against.
Joining our team of 14 local enumerators, who were the people actually gathering the information from the communities, we set off to some of the most remote locations I’ve ever been to. It sounds simplistic, but it was oddly enthralling to find out how people in rural areas of Sierra Leone live their lives – whilst at the same time, contributing to our efforts to assist with their health.
It’s impossible to put into words what the experience was like, and I’ve probably explained it horribly vaguely, but rest assured it was life changing (and I don’t say that lightly). To spend five days understanding the context in which my organisation does so much of its work was invaluable, and affirmed to me the decision to come here.
Moonlighting for amputees
The civil war between 1992 and 2002 was notorious for the cutting of limbs as a tactic to prevent voting in elections, and thus many people of all ages continue to struggle with such after effects. A friend who has previously spent some time in Kenema asked me to visit some friends of his while I was there, who were associated with a local NGO/charity that supports amputees and war wounded people in the area.
It was fascinating to hear some of the stories they had, even in the few hours I spent with them, and it turns out I was that impassioned that I’ve decided to help them fundraise for them – to help develop themselves into a sustainable organisation that helps the wider amputee community. I also plan to go back and meet the whole group, which will no doubt give me even more inspiration to lend a hand.
Diamonds aren’t forever
Aside from amputees, the other most recognisable factor in the war is diamonds. Blood diamonds, to be specific – a la Di Caprio’s performance in a woefully bad Zimbabwean (he calls it Rhodesian) accent. Kenema just so happens to be one of the hubs for diamond mines, and there’s no getting away from it – every second shop on the main road is a diamond dealer.
The curse of the diamond is pretty obvious, as their presence only serves to create further problems. Simplistically, many people are more prepared to work in diamond mines than farm the lush and arable land, as they search for their fortune instead of helping the country feed itself (as it used to be able to). There is much talk of the agricultural sector taking off, but it will take years and whole lot of application. We’ll see, I guess.
This blog’s random sport shirt
Kenema was just as plush as Freetown in this department, as some weird and wonderful samples of sporting attire crossed my bows. I always like it when a sport that would have no logical connection with the country rears its random head, and thus this was my personal favourite:
Newcastle Falcons Rugby Union, circa 2008-09!
I’m not sure what Jonny Wilkinson would make of it here, but I’m pretty sure nobody would know who the hell he is. I don’t think rugby would compute, despite the colonial heritage, which was pretty obvious when a friend took a rugby ball to the beach recently and the children couldn’t deal with the fact the ball bounced all over the place!
Signing off
After doing hefty blogs so far, I’ve decided that from now on it’s going to be much easier to just do one rhythmical observation at a time. This should mean shorter, more frequent musings when they actually come to mind – rather than long, daunting ones for me to write and you to read!
And with that, I’m offski.
Ciao, for now,
D.
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