A lek de bich! (I like the beach)

It is hard to describe how stunningly beautiful the beaches are here so instead you can look at pictures. Even these can't begin to capture the true magnificence but it the best I can do. I spent a lovely Saturday reading on the beach, rejuvenating in the cool water (hard to believe this is the same Atlantic, it is a wonderful, sparkly blue-green color here) and eating perhaps the most delicious barracuda I have ever had. OK, I should admit that this is only my second taste of barracuda, but it was mouth wateringly delicious!

Wetin yu de du? (What are you doing?)

Yesterday, I visited our other site, Calaba town, and had my first glimpses of rural life in Sierra Leone. Cars overpopulate the roads here making even New York City traffic seem tame. So we took a long, circuitous route through the hills. Stunning views, lush rain forest and small settlements greeted us at every turn. Red clay roads, still washed out from the rains, made it a bumpy, wonderful ride. We drove through old Krio settlements, internally displaced camps and miles of uninhabited wilderness. The sounds of monkeys, small children and the constant bump bump of our land-cruiser provided the soundtrack while the musty, forest smell mingled with car exhaust and smoke gave the aroma. It was great to get out of the city for a bit and what a delightful overload of the senses.

To top things off, I finished my afternoon with a late lunch of street food. I know everyone tells you not to eat on the street, but I disagree (Audi, I am channeling your third world stomach. We will see if I regret it). I do think you get to truly know a place by your stomach. Not wanting to miss out on this valuable, cultural experience, I dove into some scrumptious food. From what I can tell most stalls have two choices for meals: kasada (a ground up, green leaf, that unfortunately has basically no nutritional content, mixed with spices and palm oil) or soup (a sweet, spicy red sauce that is somewhat stew like). Both are served over rice. You order by the price and you say it twice (a wan leh one 2,000, one 2,000 kasada, meaning I would like one plate of kasada for 2,000). It was delicious and spicy, seriously spicy. No joke, my nose ran and my mouth tingled for hours after!!

Aw di wok? (How is the work?)

Can I just say, that I think whomever invented skype must be a counselor. I love the logon message “take a deep breath”. I of course follow the instructions and always feel better. It is an important reminder to all to take a second and breath deeply. Skype is a wonderful, little miracle that allows me to speak with a range of people from my Grandparents in Florida, to friends around the world and of course Stephen. The power of talking cannot be underestimated.

Talking is the basis of relationships, growth and healing. This is what I have to offer my clients here. I cannot provide money, food, shelter or protection but I can provide an ear to listen with and a heart to care. Group counseling provides numerous psychological benefits including a support system; learning one is not alone; ability to improve the quality of one’s life; and opportunity to gain a more hopeful future. This process of healing requires hard work and courage from group members. This is my role here, I co-facilitate trauma groups.

Yesterday, I found myself explaining this to 20 beautiful, inquisitive eyes staring at me. Our group draws on an amalgamation of Judith Herman, Yalom and trauma-focused CBT (Sorry, to all the non-social work people out there, basically they are the inspirational gurus of trauma and group work and the therapy I deeply adore). This was our first of 10, 1 ½ hour sessions. The groups are run in Krio (I have the assistance of a translator). Luckily, many words are similar and I am beginning to grasp the sentence construction, so was not completely clueless. The group went well and I am really excited about the next 9 weeks!

Tide de Sohnde (Today is Sunday)

By this my fifth day, I already have a few contenders for my favorite things. Huge barracudas, I’m talking three feet long, pulled straight from the sea and sold on the beach, top the list. I have witnessed their greatness but am too intimidated to buy one yet. I’m already plotting the massive feast I will cook for the friends, that I have yet to make but will. Another is homemade yogurt from the Lebanese run store down the street. It is tangy and creamy and makes the perfect breakfast sitting outside, where if you concentrate just enough you can conjure up the sense of a breeze. Lastly, I take great pleasure in seeing people’s immense ability to balance things on their heads. Objects range from stacks of eggs, to a table, to huge jugs of water that they effortlessly carry with grace. This talent seems to have no gender or age restrictions (I saw a small child balance a plastic container that must have been twice her size). I have never thought of myself as overly clumsy, that title I reserve for my friend Erin. So I held out hope that I too might have this power of perfect posture and be able to balance objects upon my head. Thus far, I am sad to report no such success (I am blaming my parents for what I consider an obnoxiously, round head). I am not deterred and hope to channel some of the Sierra Leonean talent and hone my skills during my stay. I will keep you all posted.
Pictures are from my walk to the beach today. Hundreds of boys spanned the 5K beach playing soccer. How I yearned to jump in and play!

Surprises

In every major city some thing’s are the same, like traffic. But some thing’s about life are so distinctively Freetown, like baby carriages. They have no babies in them. The babies are tied on for the ride with a piece of beautiful cloth. Carriages are used to push coolers and various other things around. Ironing makes the list too. I never expected to come to Sierra Leone and hone my domestic skills by ironing my underwear, and yes Liza, sheets too. This is done not out of an obsessive, compulsive desire for wrinkle-free belongings but because when clothes are drying flies often lay eggs in them. The heat from the iron kills the eggs, thus thankfully no hatching critters in my undies. Street vendors are another surprise. Their ubiquitous presence I expected, but their complete disinterest and almost exasperation at taking too much time to decide which eggplant (yes, we do have some vegetables!!) flabbergasted me.

A little glimpse of my world...

The flower is just a pretty, purple thing that Stephen is going to tell us about:)

4,000 Leones=$1. West Africa is notorious for being expensive, Sierra Leone is no exception. So I end up carrying a large wad of these bills just to buy some groceries.

This market is a small one maybe 50 yards from our gate. Alive, fried and smoked fish covered in flies are everywhere, some rice in bags, various vegetable at different stages of decomposition and your random household needs from pipes to toilet seats can be found.

The is one of about a million stalls that line the street selling odds and ends.

The picture with the barb wire (most people, except the very poor, live behind wire and walls) was taken from my window this morning. During the week, the street is packed and full of life.

My room

This is mostly for you Dad; see I will not be eaten by a swarm of blood-thirsty, malaria-infected mosquito’s. Hurray for bed nets!!

Goodbyes

Safe and sound

Well, I am here. That says a lot. After more than 10 hours in London my plane finally took off, then we missed the landing and had to try for a second time. I made it past customs without paying the requested bribe and onto the helicopter. Mind-numbingly loud, packed in like sardines the bumpy ride began (Mom, you would have hated that part). Seven minutes later, I arrived but found no one waiting. Luckily, a nice Scottish guy offered me a ride. As it turned out he is friends with my supervisor, it’s a small world after all or at least a small ex-pat community here. Finally at 3:30am, 28 hours after I left Boston, I was home in Sierra Leone.

On first impression, Freetown is very hot and very loud I manage to sweat without moving and when I finish bucket bathing I am unsure if I’m still wet from the water or from sweat. To my great horror, I was told that now is considered the “cool” season, damn New England blood. Even the food is hot. So far I have eaten cassava leaves for lunch and dinner. They are deliciously spicy making your mouth burn and making you sweat more. Cars honk, dogs bark and music blares all day and all night. The noise is surprisingly soothing and rather fun to listen to in bed.

I love it. It is so different from anyplace I have been and anything that I imagined. Everyone has been welcoming and wonderful and the work is fascinating!

Getting ready!

This blog is an attempt to avoid mass emails but let people know where I am, what I'm doing and that I'm OK. My guess is that internet will be sporadic at best and my hope is that I will be super busy and not want to be writing emails all the time. So, while I would love to hear from everyone (and please comment or email, I really would love it), it will be easy to have one spot to post messages and pictures.

The adventure begins on Monday, January 18, get ready...