Rhythm 12 – Copyright or Wrong?

The UK is no stranger to people flouting copyright laws. My first direct experience of this was one of my brother’s university flatmates who purposely bought a CD writer to copy albums and sell them to students unable to pay HMV or Our Price’s (remember them?) inflated tariffs. That was 1997.

Nowadays, of course, the market for copied DVDs and CDs has been supplanted by lay people indulging in illegal downloading – whether it be music, films, software, or even books. We have the power, should we have a broadband internet connection, to pay nothing for these commodities.

In Sierra Leone, it’s not quite the same sketch. Realistically, pretty much nobody has an internet connection capable of downloading files so large. And official music and film shops don’t really exist (I’ve never seen one that doesn’t sell copies). Therefore, the market for hawking films and music on the street, and even in stand-alone shops, has continued to flourish. Until recently.

In July, the Government introduced the 2011 Copyright Act that would potentially prevent any sales of copyrighted goods. The logic being that it protected the intellectual property rights of the artists. Having witnessed how the download era has affected the music industry in the UK, I recognise how difficult it is for musicians to make any money. There is clearly a similar issue within the music fraternity here.

On the day following the Act being passed, the streets were emptied of people whose livelihoods depend upon the sale of copyrighted goods, with the fear they’d potentially be picked up the Police, read the riot act and have their stock confiscated.

All of this begged the question of what merit there is of introducing a law that looks good in theory, but cuts of the lifeblood of so many young people in one of the poorest countries in the world?

The simple equation is that people would simply not listen to music outside of radio broadcasts, if it wasn’t unofficially produced and sold on the street. No longer would boys be able to tap on your vehicle window to entice you to by ‘Salone Mix 2011,’ ‘Reggae Classix,’ or the like.

Rhythm 11 – Sweet Love

Some readers may be aware of the phenomenon that is the Africa Mercy, a ship that rocks up along the coast of West Africa to deliver health care – well, major surgery – to those most in need but unable to pay for it. In Sierra Leone, health care is only free for pregnant women, lactating mothers and children under five years of age.

The ship is just one of Mercy Ships’ fleet that do the same thing across the developing world. It is truly amazing work that the Mercy Shippers do, donating their time and skills, and actually paying to be one of the crew. There are some creature comforts on board, however, the highlight/lowlight of which is an official Starbucks coffee outlet!

Given its ubiquitous status on the patchwork quilt of Freetowners thoughts, it should come as no surprise that we have made up a song about the Mercy Ship. A current hit in Salone is Busy Signal’s version of “Nightshift” – see below – to which we have amended the hook lyric to the following:

‘Gonna give you some sweet love...sweet love...on the Mercy Ship’

It doesn’t quite connect when it’s written down, but if you give it a go it does become quite addictive. I’m often singing it – either in my head or out loud – at my desk, walking down the street, or even when swimming. The true irony of the new lyric is that the Mercy Ships organisation is actually faith-based, and thus I’m not entirely sure we’d have their blessing (see what I did there) for the song becoming its anthem!

As you’d imagine, we are extremely intrigued about what it looks like inside – the health care bits as well as the living conditions – and have been trying to find a way of having a look around. It turns out that tantrums really do work sometimes, as after we showed our upset at missing out on a raffle prize of a guided tour at a fundraising quiz recently, someone from the ship caught wind of our predicament and actually offered us a tour with no strings attached. Get in.

Rhythm 10 – Dealing with wrong numbers (with a Wolverhampton accent)

When your phone rings in Sierra Leone, you have very little guarantee that you’ll know the person on the other end is. You can accumulate all the numbers you like from the various networks on offer – social and professional – but there will always be someone who’ll choose to call you unannounced.

This doesn’t bother me a jot during the hours I’m awake as it could easily be a work-related call, but when I’m in bed it’s a different matter. Unfortunately, it seems to happen the most when you’re asleep.

My policy for answering unknown numbers is the same as in the UK – blissful ignorance and quick click on ‘Silence’ to stop it ringing. However, if I don’t know the number here, I give each one due diligence and give them a name in my phone’s memory (namely Prank 1, Prank 2, Prank 3, etc. – I’m currently at Prank 12). That way, I can track if they are repeat offenders – then I’ll answer and attempt to let them know they have a wrong number.

The other day, I had around the 9th call of the evening from a Guinean number (Prank 12) when I decided to test a new technique – answer and speak to them in a Wolverhampton accent. The dialogue went as follows, with Queen’s English translation alongside for those uninitiated:

“Orrite” – Hello

(Muffled silence)


“Ow am ya?” – How are you?

(More silence)

“Terrah a bit!”

(Line goes dead)


This turned out to be a master stroke, as I haven’t had a call from the same number since. The shock and awe at hearing such a strange dialect must have scared them witless, no doubt, and they will no longer waste their credit and my time!

Rhythm 9 - Following the Black Country derby, remotely

I’ve mentioned a few times the nuances of supporting an English football team here, but this weekend was pretty special. You can keep up-to-date very easily, but there are just some times when you need moral and practical support.

Given the importance of Wolves’ game against the Albion yesterday, aligned with the fact that I was going to be at large – well, at brunch if that helps set the scene – I enlisted the services of my good buddies and fellow Wolves fans, Ben and Joseph. See below for how things played out:

David: Morning gents, it’s Dave all the way from Freetown (this is my SL number). Hope all is jolly. So it’s the derby day showdown today and I need score and key event updates...can you assist?

Joseph: Hi Dave, I’m out and about with low battery but I will update you as long as technology allows! Which will die first – my phone or our hopes for the season!?

J: Big Mick: “We can’t force the issue because we might find ourselves 1-0 down and facing an uphill struggle, so we have to be patient.” Inspiring!

J: 1-0 Wolves, Fletcher!!!!!!!

Ben: Just seen your text. 20 mins in, Wolves 1-0 up. Come on!

B: 2-0! Both from corners. Get in!

J: 2-0 Guerdiora!!!!!! (I’m so excited I can’t spell!)

D: All good news so far – keep them coming!

B: Refreshing to see Wolves pushing for more rather than backing off and defending.

B: Half time. Bit more pressure from West Brom towards the end of the half but Wolves on top and playing the best I’ve seen them for months. Really working hard.

J: 2-0 at half time. By all accounts The Sh*t have been, well, sh*t! Woeful defending, long may it continue...

(At this stage, my phone told me there was ‘There is no room for new messages’ – which told me more excitement was on its way.)

B: 3-0! 2^nd for Fletcher. Temporarily lost my stream!

B: 3-1. Gave away a pen.

J: Odemwingie pulls one back from the spot, 3-1. 55 minutes gone.

J: 3-0 Wolves, another for Fletcher!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Joe’s or my phone, or possible even the time space continuum, was playing up there, as the 3-1 message came before the 3-0.)

D: Crikey, my pulse rate is off the chart!

B: West Brom with a lot of pressure and a couple of big missed chances. 20 mins to hold on.

B: Jarvis just coming on!

J: Into the last 15 minutes, still 3-1 and tension is high...

B: It’s all over! 3-1. What a game. Vital. Great stuff. See you soon buddy!

J: Full time, 3-1 and we’re out of the relegation zone!

D: Amazing, thanks so much for the updates – I just punched the air in a (relatively) very posh restaurant! My Eggs Benedict tastes even sweeter now...

J: It was a pleasure! Bon appétit!

If that doesn’t exhibit the benefits of modern technology when you're thousands of miles away from an event you just have to know the outcome of, I don’t know what does. And it’s high ho, Wolverhampton...

Rhythm 8 – Kenema Special

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.