Rhythm 15 - Hypocatical

Most readers of this will know that I confidently present myself as ‘anti-pet’. It makes me quite unpopular at parties, as I generally decide not to shirk the discussion should someone ever ask me whether I have them or not. Some might say I even happily provoke the debate that often ensues.

Around six weeks ago, we had something of a fraught week of mouse sightings. Nobody sane actually likes mice that invade their house, despite what they might say. At best they are a nuisance; at worst, they have been described by yours truly as “furry little b*****d things” that are dirty and cause havoc.

This set us thinking, and we ascertained that the most effective way of alleviating our rodent friends was...to acquire a cat. Or ‘puss’, as they are affectionately known in Krio. This was quite the detachment for me, as you might expect.

With pride swallowed, we asked the caretakers of our flat to keep their ears open to any nearby male kittens that needed a home. Less than a week later, we had received the merchandise. We had already decided on the name of ‘Ishmood’ – a clever combination of the two caretakers who helped us find him, Ishmael and Mahmood.

It turns out that our new housemate is actually...(yelp)...quite fun to have around. This is, of course, quite challenging for someone who thinks that pet ownership is the final and patronising victory of man over beast. Discuss.

An interesting footnote to Ishmood’s arrival is the fact that despite assurances that he was a ‘man puss’, he is in fact a girl. That hasn’t stopped me calling him ‘mate’ or referring to him as ‘him’. To me, he’s a boy trapped in a girl’s body and that's that. 

Thankfully, Ishmood has served and is still serving his main purpose, which is to be a merciless killer and eschewer of pests. His first kill was a cockroach, which was stridently placed on my flip flop. And we haven’t seen a single mouse since his arrival.

Rhythm 14 - The Smooth and the Rough

Anyone worth their salt knows that the words Sierra and Leone are synonymous with diamonds – blood diamonds, no less, as immortalised by Leone-ardo himself.

The irony of the phenomenonal volume of natural resources the country has is just how much (or little, as the case may be) people benefit from their discovery, sale and re-sale across the world. But that’s for another time.

On a recent field visit to Kenema and Kono districts, I was able to see the two sides of the diamond business in technicolour. This involved (a) visiting a diamond dealer shop in Kenema Township, and (b) observing the effect of mining on communities in both districts.

The dealer shop we were lucky enough to visit was named ‘Ameriken’ – which was either a clever play on words, a worrying typo (well, painto) by the sign maker or simply a rubbish name. I’m almost certain it was the latter, but you never know.

The Lebanese chap who owned the shop was more than happy to show us a variety of diamonds on his expensive-looking desk (which had Liverpool and Brazil football logo stickers affixed to it, tastefully). These ranged from one particularly attractive one worth $80,000 to a pile of around 100 small ones that would total $200. 

His knowledge was extensive, and mightily impressive, but he did squirm at a few questions that were asked in relation to the origin of his diamonds and expressed his micro-displeasure of the Kimberly process, that entails that all should be certificated in-country and declared on arrival at the country of disembarkation.

On the flipside, any journey to the east of the country isn’t complete without seeing the effects that are wrought by diamond (and any old, for that matter) mining. Along the main roads, you can actually see some of the small mines being mined by men, women and children. As well as that, you can’t escape without seeing at least 100 people carrying a mineral sieve – about dartboard size – slung over their shoulder. 

The absurdity of this situation can’t be lost on many people. If even half of the people mining tended to farms instead, this country could most likely feed itself and then some. Yet it simply doesn’t happen, as people chase their fortune by forlornly searching for something that could make their fortune for a while but not sustain them long-term. 

Seeing all of this firsthand takes some accepting, especially when the resultant (though clearly not the only reason for) poverty slaps you in the face as you traverse between villages and towns. It’s pretty stark, when you think about the end product of many of the diamonds – a sparkling engagement ring on a fiancés finger.

Rhythm 13 - Leone Stargazing

A few months ago now, we were lucky enough to secure tickets for the African Nations Cup Qualifier between Sierra Leone and the three-time defending champions Egypt, at the national stadium here in Freetown.

Getting into the stadium was an experience – a friend of ours had her ticket stolen just before entering but after some brinkmanship she got past the first line of security. It turned out the head ticket person at the gate wasn’t pleased with this, and promptly roughed her up and removed her from the stadium (we were able to get her back in, with some extra brinkmanship).

Prior to the game, the Leone Stars (as the national team is known here) were handily placed in their qualifying group but were underdogs before the kick off. Rather than give a self-indulgent match report, watch the video below for what happened:



That’s right, Sierra Leone beat Egypt with a last minute penalty. And the game featured a number of African football clichés – woeful pitch, searing heat and terrible goalkeeping mistakes. It was amazing.

As you can just about see in the video, policeman were actually dancing around the pitch – and thus leaving their post – when the penalty was given and subsequently scored by Mohamed ‘Poborsky’ Bangura (who recently transferred to Celtic). The video doesn’t feature the very brave streaker, in nothing but white briefs, who eluded policeman for about 30 seconds before being escorted from the fray.

The sheer elation of the moment when Poborsky scored the winner sent electricity across the whole stadium, yet also gave a glimpse of how things could get out of control so quickly here. When the final whistle blew, the crowd stormed the pitch and the stands erupted with fervent emotion. It was at that point where it seemed only right to exit, and enjoy a victorious walk home amidst car horns, whistles and flag waving.

I have been to a lot of sporting events, many of which had a lot more riding on them, and none of them compared to this.