Trip to North (in West Africa) This time its different. No birthdays, no snow and I am not travelling alone...

I am in a car with 3 black guys. Yes, I said black. I am not a racist, they are called blacks. After all, I cannot call them African Americans, can I? Abdul (our driver) and Yayah are from Freetown, Franck is from Benin. We leave at 6 am sharp. Riiiiight. I set my alarm clock at 6 somewhat adjusting to African time. Without a rush I got ready, headed to the dining room around 6.30 for breakfast and coffee. I enjoyed a nice sun rise, which is a real treat considering we are in the middle of the rainy season. Hopefully we will have a nice weather... Last night I outdid myself by actually putting some thinking into packing. Most likely Ill need rain boots, rain gear (hmmm, so far it sounds like my Norwegian trip minus the Long Jones and winter gloves). This morning I remembered to throw in my mosquito spray, a GPS, my cell phone and 2 cameras, but couldnt be bothered with sun lotion. Malaria I can do without it alright, but a little tan wouldnt hurt. Its the rainy (cloudy) season after all... Its 7.15 am. The guys arrived. By 7.30 we are leaving to the North. I still dont know the name of the place; couldnt find it on the map either. FUN TIMES AHEAD... Franck told me to call the motel and cancel the cancellation 2 days ago I had this conversation with them: Id like to book 3 single rooms. OK, no problem. How much? 250.000 for a double room. Great, and the single? We dont have singles. But you said no problem... Yes, no problem. So, do you have free single rooms? Yes m am. How much? 250.000, I told you already. But thats for the double room, I need single rooms. OK, no problem. (and we were back to square 1. Welcome to Africa! )

Franck called him back. Maybe it was his African accent, maybe the fact, that he is a man, either way, he managed to book 1 single room and 2 double rooms. YAY! Last night Franck asked me to cancel this reservation, because we are to spend a night in another village. Apparently Yayah, the NGO liaison at the Ministry of Health found a guest house for us. So, I was on the phone again: Id like to cancel our reservation. When? For Friday night. 3 rooms were booked under the name... OK, no problem. 250.000 for a night. No, we booked 3 rooms already, I want to cancel it. You no need a room no more? Yes, thats correct. Just cancel it please. OK, bye mam. (and he hung up on me before I could even say a name...)

This morning Franck called them back for the third time in 2 days asking if we could still have those rooms after all. Guess what his response was: OK, no problem. Now I am wondering whats ahead of us... Getting out of Freetown is never easy. Well, 6 am would have been a good time, but its already 8 and the traffic is horrendous. Its Friday morning, prayer time for the Muslims start soon so everybody is on the roads. Its still Ramadan and the sun is high up already, yet street vendors sell bread, plantain chips and other food items everywhere. They attack each vehicle lifting up small bags in their hands trying to make a dollar here and there... I asked the guys when Ramadan ends. They disagreed. Apparently it depends on who is calling the shots. Literally. People call from Saudi Arabia and tell you its next Tuesday. The Pakistani imam says in 2 weeks. Iraqi leaders say 5 more days. Go figure... I guess it depends really on which denomination you follow: Shiite, Sunnis or Amadists. Yayah is sitting next to me and I have the opportunity to ask him questions. He, like many others fulfilling important roles in the government, is a Sierra Leonean, who studied and worked in England. After the war (the end date is debatable, but the majority says it ended roughly 10 years ago) he returned because he wanted to serve his people while his family stays in England. We talked about politics, diamonds, pygmy hippos and monkey soup for dinner. He called a friend and ordered dinner for us. The conversation was in Krio and I understood only bits and pieces like he no want nar monkey soup, she make fine nar spicy goat, we do kom nar dis nite and I had to smile. Yes, I do enjoy the spicy food here especially the meat they BBQ fresh on a metal sheet laid over an open fire and sell with onions and lots of chilli powder wrapped in a newspaper. A few days ago I had my weekly street meat fix in a German newspaper God only knows how it ended up in West Africa (on a second thought, maybe its better if I dont try to think about it haha) In the meantime we leave the city and start our 6 hours drive in the countryside. Soon we are passing by breathtaking scenery with endless rice fields on one side, small hills covered with palm trees and occasionally some mud huts with smiley pikins (children) shouting APOTO (meaning WHITE PERSON) on the other side. If we drive slowly they often run up to the car and try to touch my hand. Sometimes they succeed and start screaming with joy. You just made their day I am told. Maybe he is right, but surely I can say the same back: seeing their beaming faces always triggers a similar response in me. What can I say? Africa won over my heart! Despite the constant challenges we face, I still love it here. It seems that regardless of the car you are driving, an African Road Trip requires a visit to the car mechanics. Even our own Mercy Ships Nissan Patrol can have engine problems on the roads here. Good thing we have Yayah with us who happen to know a reliable mechanic in Makeni, so we pay him a visit. 1 hour and many consultants later we are back in the car. From now on there is only a narrow dirt road, which would be fine, except... have I mentioned its the rainy season???

We stopped for some palm wine on the road. What can I say? Its not the best drink, but you can get used to it. The seller saw that I was a white girl and asked Yayah if I was free. Instead of saying NO he started negotiating in Krio. Finally Franck jumped in and saved me saying she is my wife so we could get away. The road is super bumpy here; I have doubts if our 4WD will make it to the end. Even if we do, a truck with a 40 feet container surely wouldnt... The car is shaking so badly, that I cannot write any more. From now on I have to rely on taking pictures FROM A MOVING CAR (!) and let them tell the story. In most of the villages we drove by we heard the Apoto Song as Franck called it. After a while I got tired of waving at them, while the guys in the car kept on laughing. (now I know how the queen must feel like, well, kinda) I think its time they did some waving, too, but then I realize it again that I am travelling with 3 black men and I am indeed the only Apoto.

The Hospital: We passed at least 100 tiny villages between Makeni and Kamakwie. It scares me to know there is no medical post between these 2 cities. Most people dont have any means of transport. Should they require a doctor, they have to walk for days to get to a hospital. They have about 80 beds and serve a population of 30.000 people. They have around 5000 children and over 8000 adult patients each year. The building itself is in a terrible condition. The maternity unit is one big rust heap and looks dangerous to go in. We met a woman who gave birth inside a few month back, and I cannot help but marvel in the miracle, that she was able to deliver a healthy baby in there. It comes as no surprise that nothing works inside. The walls are covered with hand written charts and stats keeping track of how many children were born (and died) there. I could also see some handmade posters calling attention to the dangers of child pregnancy and rape.

On the opposite side of the road is a vocational school for ladies. I went inside to look around, have a little chat with the ladies. There is a cute baby, just under a year old sitting in the middle playing with some dirty fabric. One of the ladies asked me if I wanted to keep the baby. She said the babys mother is insane anyways and nobody would mind it, not even the mother... no comments! We get a tour around the hospital as if I am not shocked already to the core. Our host explains the challenges they face, one of the most crucial ones is blood transfusion. They usually approach the immediate family first, but often even they are reluctant to donate blood. People here feel that their blood is theirs and nobody can take it! Even if it would save somebodys life! It is against the law to sell your blood, though I have seen people sitting outside of the Emergency hospital in Freetown waiting for an accident to make some money on the desperate victims. As we walk around we pass by some medical waste (used needles, bloody bandages, empty ampoules) just lying around on the floor. The nurse will come shortly to clean it he says. We walked into the first ward; its for malnutritioned children. I saw a kid (under 3) who lost his skin on his legs; he was still shedding skin as we spoke. The hospital doesnt use Moringa Trees for nutrition, in fact this was the first time they heard about it. I am hopeful that maybe we will be able to help them in this area and teach them about the multiple use of the Moringa Tree, also known as the Miracle Tree (it grows fast, very easy to grow it, practically all parts of the tree is edible, the leaves contain all essential amino acids and are rich in protein, vitamins A, B, C, and minerals, you can dry the leaves and make tea, crush the bark and use it as baby food, cook the leaves and eat with rice...etc). I asked the nurse for a photo, she told me it was OK, so I snapped one of . Soon I realized that all the mothers expected a photo. Oops, I forgot: this is a warm climate culture, its all about the group and not the individual I cannot exclude any of them. Oh well, I love taking pictures of locals anyways so I happily snapped all of them. After the tour they invited us for dinner: Rice and fish/goat soup (they call it soup here, but its really the sauce they put on the rice). It quite spicy and delicious. When I start coughing they kindly offer some water, which I kindly deny. Yayah poured a glass of coconut juice for me (well, at least it looks like coconut juice with its white/ transparent colour and it will go down in history as coconut juice. In reality it was palm wine, but ssssssshhhhh ) Over dinner the local doctor tells us more stories. I listen carefully, trying to catch his words through his thick accent, occasionally nod and think again HOW BLESSED I AM to be born in a normal hospital with skilled doctors, nurses; sterile environment, running water; electricity 24/7... Sometimes I do take all this for granted. Yet, another reason why I NEED AFRICA MORE THAN AFRICA NEEDS ME.
This malnutritioned baby was lying on the floor of the already overcrowded pediatric ward, receiving blood while the mother looks at me hoping I am a white doctor who could help them

We left around 5.30 pm and knowing whats ahead of us (a 4 hours tumble drier cycle in the dark) I tried to look at the bright side: at least the first part of the journey would be during the so-called golden hour of photography, when the sun provides incredible lighting and amazing colours. I took like 200 photos from our bouncy car. Soon the sun set and the mossies (mosquitoes) became more active so I closed the window and embraced myself for a long ride. Shortly before 10 pm we checked in at the motel and I could grab a quick and much needed shower (now, dear friends, dont picture your own bathroom with fancy smells and warm running water! No, you stand in the corner of the bathroom and pour cold water over your body with a small bowl that you dip million times into a bigger bucket.) Thank God they have electricity at nights so the fan is working. I even have a tiny light in the room, I feel spoiled! I killed a few mossies inside the room and arranged my mosquito net so it covered the entire bed properly. We went out for dinner. Not surprisingly the restaurant is full of while men miners who work for either London Mining or Africa Minerals. They did check me out quite openly as I walked in with 3 black guys. I wonder what they were thinking... On our way back to the motel we stopped at a night club. Inside I found mostly girls, who were dancing in front of a mirror. A Sierra Leonean artists CD (or more likely cassette!) filled the air effectively breaking my eardrums. The local music is quite similar to the Caribbeans both in style and rhythm. I was the only Apoto there so naturally I was noticed. The guys did a good job at protecting me and sending away the unwanted intruders. After 10 minutes I said my good byes and went back to the motel for a good nights (?) rest... Around 6 am they shut down the electricity and suddenly it was very hot in the room. I tried to go back to sleep only to be woken up again by a rooster and a radio; apparently the local station had the same cassette as the night club. Giving up on more sleep I did some water splashing and went outside to enjoy the sun. A few hours later the guys surfaced and we ordered food. Only here can you have a rare steak at 10 am for breakfast with burning chilli-rice to support your digestive system (back home you would use yoghurt for that, here the spices do the trick and we dont discuss the side effects of said chilli here!) We are on the road again. The guys fall asleep as the car started moving and I stare at the landscape again. The road is better today so I can continue writing my notes. I am going through the pictures I took yesterday to help me remember. We drove by some villages where they grow tobacco. Because it was a nice sunny day they hung up the leaves under the roofs to dry. At some houses the leaves were already dry and little kids (!) were crushing them on the ground. How sad...

In another village I saw men carrying huge yellow buckets. Without stopping to ask whats in them you know its NOT water. How do I know that? Its the childrens responsibility to bring water. Sometimes the mothers help them, but never the father. So, if you see a man balancing 2 big buckets over his shoulders its pretty safe to assume its palm wine. We crossed many bridges on our way and often we saw people washing clothes in the river. Sometimes they would bathe in the river. At one occasion I saw a boy (12ish) with absolutely nothing on except a pair of long black rain boots and a huge smile. Too bad my camera was away. I grabbed it too late and missed that perfect shot. Learning from my mistake I kept my camera at hand waiting for the next bridge. Soon enough I saw it and there were people in the water, too. I was looking through the view finder waiting for the moment. Suddenly I found myself face to face with a completely naked man covered in soap from head to toe! He turned around, the guys in the car burst out laughing while I closed my eyes, face burning... Life seems simple here. You wake up at the crack of dawn to the sounds of nature, you get dressed (though this item is optional and even some adults disregard it!) and you just... well, ARE. Some kids walk to school we passed by a couple of them during our 4 hour drive some just stay at home; they play with the dog in the dirt, bring water from the well, help their mother on the fields or just hide under the roof from the burning sun or heavy rain. They usually eat 1x a day! If you think back to all those Feed the children in Africa campaigns, they usually ask for a couple of dollars per person for ONE MEAL A DAY. I always thought they just want you to cover one OF the meals. I never stopped to think they might be asking for the ONLY MEAL they can have... After sunset the villages fill with more life. Adults get together to chat, older girls braid each others hair. By 7 pm its completely dark. Small fires and oil lamps pop up every here and there making the bystanders eyes glow in the dark. Between villages its pitch black dark and on a night like today you can see million stars, even the Milky Way if you slow down enough to notice. One thing you can see in every village is a Mosque. Some are small, some are spacious; yet another one is brand new while others barely stand. During prayer times half the village disappears. Men go inside while women and children have to stay outside. Its no big deal, except those 6 months each year when its raining every day. In one village they are still praying while in the next one they are already digging into the ball with bread in their hands. There is one ball for the ladies and one for the guys on opposite sides of the mosque. In Norway no rain means painting your house. In Hungary no rain means beach time. In Texas no rain means drought and danger of fire. In Sierra Leone no rain means washing your clothes and spreading them out on the ground to dry. Yes, wet clothes flat out on the dirt!

Curiosity killed the cat they say. Apparently I missed some memos on NOT TOUCHING certain creatures in West Africa... I came across some bright green caterpillars about 5 cm each. First I thought they were plastic toys, not quite believing something alive can have this bright colour. It looked waaay too green to be real! But one of them was moving! Slowly. I forgot everything else and sat down next to this cute little fluff to have a closer look. I took some close ups of it and wanted to pick up one in my hand. This poor little thing must have been scared of me and tried to curl up into a ball. It tried to crawl into the opposite direction so I extended my arm to push it back in front of my camera with my left index finger while filming... (see video for the results) In retrospect I should have suspected that this bright little monster must have some form of effective defensive mechanisms in place... I should have seen the long spikes and should have assumed they were sharp instead of fluffy... The burning sensation literally rushed through my entire body. I jerked back my finger in a blink of an eye, but it was too late. 3 days later I still cannot touch anything with that finger without feeling I am being poked by million tiny needles. It must have been some type of poison as I couldnt see any point of entry. The skin seemed intact and there was no blood or anything strange on my finger, even the skin colour was normal. Except that its burning, even when I put it under water. Youd think I learned my lesson? Well, think again... All in all, this was a fabulous trip and I am so glad I could go up there. I am still fascinated by the colours of Africa: bright blue sky and white, fluffy clouds above us, fresh green grass and dark green palm trees around us and that red/golden clay thats just so very African in my mind... how can anybody NOT like this??? Hope you liked this short report. Thanks for reading! Rka