Do you feel lucky?

I wake up to a disturbing noise. Today is our last day in Kambia and this evening we are due to have a party. We are now the proud owners of two goats, but have emotional attachments to Lucky, so named because he was spared on Christmas day. Keeping two hungry goats is unpractical, so we have agreed that the Maselleh goat (now known as Unlucky), will sacrifice himself for the feeding of our guests. At 6am, when I hear frantic and desperate bleating outside my window, I rush out imagining he is being slaughtered. In fact he is just cross that he has been put in the chicken coop. As a vegetarian for nearly twenty years, I put Unlucky out of my mind and get on with things.

Toby, James and I decide to go for an early morning walk to try and find the rapids you can see from Skandia house. We walk down to the market and along a track towards the river, finding a beautiful banana-lined path leading to a vegetable garden. It is green and lush and again we are surprised that if places like this can flourish, there is not more agriculture here. On the way back we buy bread from the market and Cassava chips from a local street vendor (which resemble hash browns) and take them home to serve them up with baked beans. A mighty cooked breakfast to set us up for a hectic day.

At 11am the cast gather inside with some of the base staff for the first screening. Apart from Israel and Abbas, who has been helping us with translations, no one else has seen it and there is much giggling as people see themselves on TV. Everyone loves it and I watch with a sense of amazement. I can’t really believe we have managed to produce a 30 minute film in such a short amount of time and under fairly trying conditions. I am really proud of us all, but nervous of how well it will be received in the villages.

It is great to be back in Barmoi and many friends gather for the screening. Makele, a witch doctor who appears in the film, greets us and again tries (with a twinkle in his eye) to get Greg to swap me for his daughter. We screen the film outside on a TV belonging to the clinic and attempt to get the small generator as far out of earshot as possible. About 50 people watch the screening and although they naturally laugh and point whenever someone they know comes on screen, on the whole they are transfixed. We leave Barmoi in a mixed state, delighted with the film’s reception and sorry to say goodbye to such lovely people.

Maselleh again seems much more ordered than Barmoi, but here our generator stops working so we have to mess around transferring our fuel into Isatu’s. Another 50 people gather to see the film and, because their village is featured less than Barmoi, are a much more attentive audience. Greg and I can’t watch the film again, so we take a walk around the village and return at the end to people asking for another viewing. Media literacy is not of prime importance in a district where many people cannot read, but these people are hungry for moving image and the film is again received brilliantly. We are reunited with Osman, whose mother proudly displays the Gap baby grow we gave her and there is much singing and clapping.

Whilst we are at the clinic, James is introduced to a woman who has walked from several villages away to see us. She is suffering from breast cancer and has come to ask for advice. With great sadness James explains that we are not doctors and that there is nothing we can do. He gives her some money to help support her family and we take her back to her village in the ambulance. We remind ourselves that the film is an important tool to support the clinics, but it is hard not to feel inadequate in the face of such suffering.

Our farewell party is attended by about 35 people (many of whom we don’t actually know) and FT’s wife Laura has cooked up an Unlucky African feast. I take my first taste of palm wine (bluergh) and we eat cold chips and prawn crackers. After food we have speeches. We thank all of the many people who have made our stay so enjoyable and comfortable. Moses and FT are brilliant and touching, talking about the importance of community and how grateful they are that we have put ourselves through such hardships. They mention malaria, cockroaches, the lack of electricity and our long working days, all of which pale into insignificance with the daily struggle of life out here and the great privilege and learning experience it has been for us.

The film is screened again for those who haven’t seen it, so Toby, James and I hide around the back to drink Gin and Tonics and reflect upon our visit. On rejoining the party we are glad to find out from a member of the hospital staff that an Italian agency runs a free breast cancer project in Freetown, including board, food and transport. Moses promises to get word to the woman near Maselleh.

As some of the actors leave they ask us for a phone numbers to stay in touch. James has first hand experience of ‘flashing’ by monosyllabic giggling kids, when someone rings you and hangs up immediately so that you ring back on your own credit, so I am glad that I can truthfully tell them my phone has been lost (stolen?) since Boxing day. I will miss Daniel and Salay, who considering their age and lack of experience, did an amazing job. Daniel has left school and is teaching to save up money for university. He would like to be a photographer but knows this is an unlikely profession in his country. Salay has three years left at school but is unsure she can afford the fees as her mother is blind. We promise to talk to Moses – schooling costs £150 a year and we may be able to find someone back in the UK to sponsor her.

Heads, shoulders…

Our last day in Barmoi and we finish filming early, so we stick around and have some fun. We decide to film the children running behind the ambulance (in a bit of a comic relief moment) to end the film. As I usher them down to the other end of the village I realise they are copying me, so I start to skip and wave my hands. As they also copy this, I try something else. Having 20 African children singing heads, shoulders, knees and toes with me was a magic moment.

We pay the Barmoi actors and get them to sign release forms. Everyone seems to be either a Bangura or a Kamara and I am told this is true across the whole of the district. School must get pretty confusing. Each of them get 10,000 Leones ‘feedin’ money and 10,000 Leones fee per day. This works out to just over £3, a very handsome amount in their economy. We return to the base for a lunch of beans on toast (yum) and then to the hospital to film the last scene.

We are unsure what we will find at the Hospital as over Christmas there has been some trouble. It is hard for us to understand exactly what has taken place or the gravity of the situation but it seems some local members of the APC (the new governing party) disapprove of non-Kambians working in the hospital and have made allegations and threats towards the Chief Medical Officer and his team who have now left. It is pretty shocking to us that local pettiness can have such results, especially when there is only one doctor to cover the whole district. The few troublemakers involved seem not to understand the fact that finding new trained staff will not be possible. Everyone is unsure whether those who have left will return.

The hospital is very quiet with few patients, but we film outside using one of the Cheltenham Scholars to play a doctor and the concluding scene of the first story is done. On the way out we stop at Hassan’s, the only bar in Kambia, for a beer. I meet (another) Isatu, Hassan’s adopted daughter who plonks herself on my lap and proceeds to examine me in detail. Touching my skin, my face and my breasts she is transfixed by my white skin and very giggly, but doesn’t say a word.

As we walk back to the base, many people shout James’ name and seem to know we come from Cheltenham (well, we have all lived there in the past). People in the town often refer to the ‘link’ between Kambia and Cheltenham and despite knowing how long the Kambia Appeal has operated here, I am surprised by how well known the project is and how deeply grateful people are.

Hotel African Village

One story down and we are still in Barmoi, filming a drunk who climbs a palm tree and falls off. I am feeling really down today and everything seems a little too much to handle. Am cheered when I hear some of the village children shouting “quiet please, action” to each other in an imitation of what I shout before we start filming.

Yesterday lunchtime we had been amazed by a group of boys who are building a truck and mobile phone using local cane and a razor blade. Today they come back to proudly show off the finished product:

At the end of the day we are asked to go and pay our respects to the Paramount Chief of the district. When we get to the village he isn’t there, so the elders and the rest of the village are summoned by drums instead. We sit around quite formally in a huge and packed village Toukel. James makes us a speech about why we are here and the Lifecycle ambulance project. Then the elders make a speech about how important the project is and how happy they are we are there. After what seems like a lot of speeches we say goodbye and head back to the base. A slightly surreal experience, but amazing to see the whole village gathered and engaged.

It is Greg and my ten year anniversary, so in celebration we all head off to Hotel African Village for dinner. James is most excited that a hotel has opened in Kambia, even if it is owned by the same people who introduced the world to the Kambia beach (which we have since found out is due to have chimpanzees. Now monkeys I would travel for). The hotel consists of a compound with some nice looking thatched huts and a larger dining room. It is deserted and we eat on the balcony. African food – Red palm oil stew and rice – for Greg and I, which harbours the hottest chilli I have ever tasted. Toby and James are not so lucky, the chicken and chips (which sounded like such a treat) turns out to be cold chips and a skinny deep fried chicken carcass. They try valiantly to find some meat but eventually give up. Great to get out of the toukel and see some of Kambia at night. The small stalls that line the roads of Checkpoint, the end of Kambia town nearest the road to Guinea, are lit by paraffin lamps and look beautiful, if not a bit like a scene from Children of Men.

We get back to the base, get the generator turned off and look at the amazing stars.

Once you pop

Up at 6am in the dark for a cold shower. It is the Harmattan season which means it is dry, windy and very cold at night. There was a party somewhere last night that was very loud until about 4am, when the mosque and the dogs took over. But the earplugs we have seem to be doing the trick. We wander round the base wearing head torches and pack an old and manky cool box to keep us going for the day.

Driving through the villages is amazing. Very few vehicles ever pass by so the children run out to look and go wild when they see us, with more Opoto shouting and waving. I feel a bit like a member of the royal family, waving and smiling for the whole journey.

Filming goes well again in the morning as Salay and Daniel and the others begin to get into their stride. Lunchtime is hard though. The children of Barmoi sit patiently around us, many wearing ripped clothes with swollen bellies, whilst we eat our lunch of rolls, coke and Pringles. There are too many of them to feed properly but we give them some crisps. Unlike the carol choir, these kids share them, down to the last crumb. We then play clapping games and Pat-a-Cake with them until it is time to start filming again.

The last scene of the day is the hardest yet, Israel disappears, the nurse he has chosen is like a piece of wood and Salay is rolling her eyes and refusing to understand our English. It transpires that our filming day of 8am – 3pm (chosen to avoid the hottest part of the day) is much longer than they are used to and they are all getting tired. We ask Israel what he would like to do differently but he is non communicative so we decide to keep going as we are, as this seems the only way to get the film done.

On the way back into Kambia we come across many young people and another parade. Much to our embarrassment Murray seems to think that getting us home is a higher priority than a traditional tribal procession so he attempts to drive through the middle of it. We get a good look though, and are of course obliged to pay someone. We return to the base and Greg and Toby sit down to capture and edit whilst James and I whip up some pasta.

Quiet please, action

Our first full day filming and we head to Barmoi, a small rural village about 40 minutes away. We are a little apprehensive as the short piece we did with Israel yesterday hit home the enormity of the task. We are making a film in another language (Krio) and don’t completely understand if what Israel is saying is what is written in the script. Plus, whilst he is obviously a natural comic and performer, he doesn’t seem to take direction too well. After some light pushing to get us out of the base, we pick up Salay and Daniel, our other two main actors (both teenagers) and head into the bush. And breakdown. Twice. We eventually walk the last 20 minutes with the kit into Barmoi and arrive at the house that will be our first location.