Outamba-Kilimi

Last week was prophet Mohammad’s birthday, a national holiday. I made it a four-day weekend and went to the national park near the Guinea border with a girl friend. It was great to see up-country, although it made me want to live in a village not the city.



The travels were long and exhausting (1 hour shared taxi to Waterloo, 3 hour poda poda to Makeni, 2 hour motorbike to Kamakwie and then another motorbike with a dug out canoe river crossing to the park. Poda poda’s are the mini busses that pack 20 people inside and some on top. Motorbikes are really the way to travel, sorry mom. But seriously, it is exhilarating racing down dirt roads, the wind in your hair, the smells and sights so vibrant, you feel free and alive. As for safety, I think they are actually the best option. Taxis generally won’t drive on the roads and the poda podas are dangerous. You constantly see them broken down and on fire, not very promising. They are incredibly hot and induce a claustrophobic panic as you realize the windows are too small to squeeze out and the one door unreachable in case of emergency. Motorbikes win on all accounts.




The park was incredible. Beautiful jungle, rolling hills, rice patties, roaming river and more. We stayed in a little hut next to the river. We went on a great run through the ashen bush (hence why we look so good in the picture). Took a guided elephant walk where we saw footprints/dung and the rampant bush fires, one rapidly approaching our camp, but no elephants. All evening we could hear the fires roar, covering everything in burnt soot making us more than a little nervous. To calm down, we did midnight, moonlit pilates by the river and plotted how to commandeer the dugout and paddle to safety. Luckily the fires stopped at the main entrance sign maybe 100 feet from our love shack. We took a sunrise canoe trip down the river to see the hippos. They did not share our enthusiasm of the encounter and stared us down, coming uncomfortably close. And we saw monkeys. Tons of monkeys everywhere. At one point, I was bucket bathing in a palm showing area and looked up to see 12 monkeys playing in the tree above me. What an absolute joy!


We decided to hike the 14 miles out of the park. Leaving at noon, with minimal water (although oranges galore), through still smoldering African bush was not our greatest idea. We hiked probably 16 miles when we came to a town dehydrated and delirious and asked for a bike. Turns out we went the wrong direction and almost made it to Guinea, wups.


Made it back to town safely and with the help of rehydration salt and street food felt much better. We then managed to find a tailor at 8pm who agreed to make us dresses for the next day, we no longer had clean clothes. He showed up at our guesthouse at 3am, a bit earlier than expected but with two fun dresses (I’m wearing mine in the motor bike picture).

weekend fun

It was another amazing but crazy beach weekend. Dinner party Friday night, dancing until 5am at a beach bar then off to the beaches for a mile swim, lobsters (the largest and tastiest I have ever had, sorry Maine), oysters, books, bonfire and sleeping under the stars. To add to that, we had one guy faint, another with a bad case of hives and still another with a deep hand laceration, all in a country with no ambulance or established medical services. Finished the weekend with a Sunday morning run on the beach, a brunch of squid and spaghetti and a dead car battery that left us stranded for hours. It was certainly not dull.





Fisherman pulling in the fish



Lunch before the grill and lunch of grilled lobsters!

No. 2 Beach

FGM/braces response

I received some interesting comments regarding my last post. I want to emphasize that there remains a HUGE difference between FGM and braces. I was just trying to illustrate that there are potentially more similarities than we might like to admit. The most compelling argument I received was that FGM “prevents women from truly knowing and enjoying the pleasures of the sexual act.” I love this argument and could not agree more. However, it too comes from such a foreign perspective.

This is a country where the price of a sexual act is about equivalent to that of beer ($1.50). A place where being lesbian or gay is illegal (not quite at the level of Uganda, where it is punishable by death, but I think that is more a reflection of lack of established laws and ability to enforce than progressive attitudes). Child fostering, the placement of rural children with urban families in order to further their education and “provide a better life” is also common. This is often horribly abused, as children become domestic slaves, as is the case with the majority of my clients. Less than 2% of population use any scientifically proven form of birth control, rather a string around the waist suffices to prevent pregnancy. Polygamy is common and accepted. Just last week I had a conversation with my driver where he asked me, “why you Americans not believe in polygamy?” He went on to explain that it was basically a way for a wealthy man to distribute his wealth and take care of many women giving them and their children opportunities they would not have. “How is this wrong?” he asked. “One person can have enough to share, not so?” (“Not so” is the rhetorical statement everyone uses here when it is glaringly obvious that what was just said is correct and to challenge it would be crazy.) Still I attempted to dispute it and explain about love, commitment being faithful, fulfillment for the man and WOMAN. This “pleasure” argument was countered by his commenting on our high divorce rates and inquiring, “are you really happier?”

I love the “pleasure” argument and agree whole-heartily but don’t imagine it swaying many people here. Regardless and perhaps thankfully, it is not my role to do so. While internally I am stuck grappling with these issues, my work is much simpler. Counselors are not meant to impart our own opinions on clients. We will leave that work for politicians, religious zealots and foreign developers. We listen, reflect back and help the clients work through what THEY identify as their challenges/problems. Counselors offer empathic support and care not opinions or personal agenda.

FGM and braces

I completed my first training on child development. Models and theories are based on western standards and are not necessarily comparable here, so my approach was to introduce concepts of age (biological, social, psychological, cultural and spiritual) and have them come up with developmental tasks and time lines. This was very successful and led to, among other things, a fascinating discussion of, well more accurately around, “initiation” or female genital mutilation (FGM).

Some background on FGM:
• Type: Both type I (removal of the prepuce of the clitoris) and type II (removal of the clitoris) are common and generally performed at onset of puberty.
• Rationale: It is part of initiation into “secret societies” and viewed as an essential rite of passage into adulthood. Their primary purpose is to canalize and control powers of the spirit world. Excising the clitoris, considered a rudiment of maleness, is supposed to remove all sexual ambiguity.
• Who: FGM is practiced by all ethno-linguistic groups in Sierra Leone. Girls from all social backgrounds undergo FGM, including the educated elite. Sierra Leone has one of the highest rates in the world with an estimated 90-98%.
• Legal status: FGM is legal

Further complicating this issue is that the basic laws of “secret societies” are, first, that initiates cannot speak of society affairs to non- initiates and, second, that non-initiates must not witness society rituals. Today’s discussion skirted the issues because, as I was informed more than once, it is “taboo “ to talk about it. In a unanimous defense of FGM by a room of educated, empathetic counselors I was told, “girls are so excited because ‘initiation’ makes you a woman. You gain honor and respect”, “you beg your parents to be allowed to participate in ‘initiation’” and “without initiation you will be shunned, made an outcast and the spirits will not be on your side.” Clearly FGM is a deeply engrained, spiritual practice veiled in secrecy making it nearly impossible to change.

But is it our place to change? In social work school we are taught to embrace other cultures and recognize their inherent strength and value. When it comes to issues like FGM, I simply do not see how this is possible and I think there is general consensus about this stance among my colleagues. So as social workers, we selectively choose to accept/honor parts of cultures while dismissing and demonizing others. Who are “we”, or specifically who am I, to decide what is right and what is wrong? When in fact, my perception is as much informed by my own cultural/socialization as theirs. The extent to which culture dominates all encounters and informs our belief system is enormous.

In grappling with this issue, I tried to contemplate a comparative example in our culture. Braces, pallet expanders and headgear came to mind. These torturous devises are almost a ubiquitous coming of age for US teens. I too remember looking forward to the day I would get braces (yes, in retrospect this seems funny and I did come to hate them). I felt proud and grown up with my metal mouth. Medically, these are generally unnecessary, torture devices but culturally they are important and deemed worth the pain and enormous financial investments. Never before have I questioned the practice or viewed it as unhealthy or wrong. In fact, despite the pain, I am likely to repeat the ritual with my own children as they come of age.

Maybe the comparison between braces and FGM is a big stretch, but is it? It is important that we scrutinize our own culture and not just judge others. This does not leave me with any answers. I still feel FGM is wrong and I am still powerless to change it. I am aware of my contradictory position and feel stuck.

More Bureh!

A picture of most of the group. People came and went the whole weekend.





A simple standing photo of us having swum half a mile, in the dark to a deserted island in West Africa didn't seem sufficient. So we set the camera on timer and attempted to jump in the air at once.


And of course, a picture of the brave swimmers in the water.










In the absence of actual monkeys on the incongruously named “monkey island” my friend and I felt compelled to improvise and hopefully entice the real monkeys to respond. Our efforts proved comic but fruitless.

Bureh Beach

I am in love. Words simply cannot do justice to Bureh beach, but I will try. A pristine beach stretching for miles, forest-covered mountains disappearing into the mist, cool ocean breeze, glorious rays, bobbing dug-out canoes, fresh fish, bonfire, sleeping under the stars, a midnight swim, endless stars and new friends, life really doesn’t get much better than that.

Or so I thought, until we went for that midnight swim and the water lit up, sparkling like nothing I have seen before. It was phosphorescence, tiny plankton that glow when you make any movement. There were thousands, maybe millions, of glimmering little spots that danced around and highlighted our glowing bodies as we glided through the water. Switching between the crawl watching the intoxicating sequined shield covering my body and the backstroke gazing at the infinite stars blanketing the sky, I was in heaven.

Today, I woke up on the beach cold for the first time since I came to Sierra Leone!! I spent the morning lazily reading my book then went for a long swim along the coast for well over an hour. When we fully exhausted ourselves we decided to hike back along the now black, rocky shore. While the rock scramble was a fun adventure at first, it quickly began to scald our feet. We aborted the rocks and opted for the cool ocean but the damage had been done. The pads of our feet bubbled with huge blisters, an unfortunate end to an otherwise perfect weekend.

Here are a few teaser pictures. The island was our midnight destination.

Smohl Smohl (little by little)

Yesterday, I visited our other site and went on a who’s who in the community tour. It was wonderfully comic and truly a cultural immersion. People here love speeches and love feeling important. Honor, power (well perceived power) and respect are the most important thing in life. So basically I was toured around all day by our staff saying, “look we have a white person who is clearly important because she is white and we are important because she is working with us.” I shook everyone’s hand at least 5 times and for extra emphasis even had the prolonged, two-handed shake that holds on for a good 10 minutes (no exaggeration, I fulfilled my hand shaking quota for my life!) and thanked them profusely and told them how honored I was to meet such important people. All of this happened outside in the heat. I was sweaty and gross wearing a light cotton skirt and tank top, while all of these beautiful black people were wearing their traditional clothing, thick cloth that is long sleeve and long pants and sometimes multi-layered, and looking stunning!! Ugg, I crave for the ability to pull off such splendor, but really have no aspirations of being important and would have preferred to do actual work than to sit and talk about it with the heads of the community (chiefs, principles, etc.)

After re-reading this, I realize how western-centric this notion is. The reality is, this is actual work. Relationships are paramount to being able to work with and in the community and these introductions are a crucial first step. As they say here “Smohl smohl” (little by little) I am getting started.