On my visit to Kenema a few weeks back (see Rhythm 14), after a few near misses I was finally able to indulge in one of the more intriguing social hotspots in the town, known only as ‘Total’.
To clarify, that isn’t a name of a jazzy club or bar – it’s merely a set of tables and chairs surrounding the forecourt of the Total petrol station, where you can drink to your heart’s content from the fridges inside the adjoining shop.
In addition, music is predictably blared through creaking speakers. It’s the usual combination of Salone classics and the latest favourites – including the omnipotent hit of the day, P-Square’s ‘Chop My Money’...which everyone is singing and dancing to right now. We’ve heard it up to ten times in one day, which is actually no bad thing.
Drinking and dancing in a petrol station took an interesting twist when we looked up at the signage on show at the Total. On one side, there is the predictable word ‘Shop’. On the other, however, we noticed that the word ‘Lubebay’ was directly about what is ordinarily known as ‘the pit’ in modern parlance. To those not quite with me, it’s the hole that mechanics work on the underside of the car from.
My only real memory of a pit is from Eastenders, when Grant pushed Phil down the one in The Arches after he found out that his brother had ‘screwed’ his wife Sharon. Poor Grant.
We made our own memories on this occasion, when we decided that the only option was to dance in the Lubebay. As you would, when nobody gives two hoots if you get in there or not. You can do allsorts in a Lubebay – six people can dance snugly, three less snugly, and you can even do a modified but equally titillating lap dance above someone in the Lubebay below.
Like anywhere in the world, Sierra Leone throws up random opportunities for fun. However, if you’d told me before we arrived that I’d dance in a Lubebay with a beer in my hand, just metres away from a petrol pump, I’d have laughed at you.
Friday, 16 December 2011
Monday, 28 November 2011
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.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
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.
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
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.
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.
Monday, 8 August 2011
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.
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.
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