Incy wincy spider

We get up at 6.30am to finish packing, hoping to leave Kambia before 8am and be in Freetown by lunch. There are many sad goodbyes as we leave the base as everyone has turned up to wave us off. We finally get on the road at nine, and although we were not expecting an unbroken journey, we had hoped to get out of Checkpoint before we broke down. Another airlock and our top speed is now 5mph so Moses, FT and Murray take the ambulance to the mechanic whilst we wait at the Hotel African Village.

Feeling a little despondent we order cokes and settle ourselves in. I visit the hotel toilets and am pleased to come back with a report of a clean, flushing toilet. Two hours go by and we get word they are on their way back to collect us, so I make a last trip to the heavenly bathroom. A quick wee, and as I reach down to wipe I see a plate-sized spider emerging from the toilet bowl towards me. In a state of shock I jump off, slam against the door and run out, knickers still around my knees, laughing and crying hysterically. The others of course have to go and look and agree that I have just suffered a majorly traumatic incident. I am also out of Marlboro Lights and have resorted to smoking local menthols. It is indeed time to go.

The drive to Freetown, now in the full heat of the midday sun, takes four hours which is pretty good, although again, I sleep for most of the journey. We are dropped off at the Hotel Cabenda, one of Freetown’s best but still pretty grotty. We eat dinner at Alex’s Beach bar and restaurant, a lovely middle eastern eatery on the bay. I finally get some really good local food – vegetarian ground nut stew and rice – and a welcome glass of cold, dry white wine.

When we return to the hotel and ask at the bar for bottled water they shake their heads. “Run out” they mutter. With apparently no possibility of getting any more, we brush our teeth with Sprite and think about changing hotels.

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.

A walk through the town

Today has been set aside for filming odds and ends and recording sound, so in the morning James and I are taken to the HIV house by Alusine from the hospital, who runs this project with Action Aid.

As we walk through Kambia town he describes the area as it used to be with tarmac roads, electricity and infrastructure like the postal service. There are few middle aged men here because so many died during the war, but those we have met, like Moses and FT, are incredibly well educated compared to the younger people we encounter. We talk about the economy, the lack of job opportunities and the fact that even a senior civil servant would only earn a maximum of 150,000 Leones a month (£25). The democratic election has inspired hope for the future but as we walk by the wrecked old buildings listening to Alusine’s stories, the lasting effects of the brutal ten-year civil war are put into sharp relief.

The HIV house is set back from the road, and exists as a membership organisation for HIV positive women to get free drugs and medial treatment and to provide support for each other. We meet about twenty women, many of them with children and some who travel far to visit the house. They tell us about the micro grants they have received to set up small businesses: each woman pays back 5,000 Leones to a month to the project and they would like to expand to employ a coordinator and eventually become self-sustaining.

The programme also runs a sensitisation programme, to try and remove the stigma associated with HIV and educate people about safe sex, but many of these women have not even told their husbands about their status. Both Alusine and the woman we meet from Action Aid remark on the change in these women since they joined the project and gained a reason for optimism. My auntie Val has given me some baby clothes from Gap where she works in the US and I leave a bag with the women, who are very pleased.

In the afternoon we record drumming and singing for the film’s sound track. Then, as James is feeling ill and Greg is on the final edit, Toby and I walk to Hassan’s for a beer, to thank him for the coconuts and to say goodbye. Isatu is there as usual and I leave her with a packet of Haribo star mix.

Breakdowns and baby snatching

Up at 6am and off at 7am for the first day in Maselleh. Unfortunately we don’t make it out of Kambia town due to an airlock in the vehicle. The lack of petrol stations in Sierra Leone mean that diesel has often been through numerous dirty bottles and jerry cans before it gets put in, causing dirt to create airlocks. We don’t have the correct spanner for the job, despite this being a regular occurrence (forward planning does not seem to happen much) so Alhajie is called for. He arrives with Moses (and a flat tire on his bike) and is unable to fix it. So another ambulance is called for.

We change over the kit and get on our way. Another 30 minutes on, in the middle of the bush, we stop again. This time we seem to be stuck in first gear and the ambulance cannot go on. Half of the party sets off to try and find a spot with mobile service and we gravitate towards a local house. The children are very scared of us here and run away, much to their parents’ amusement. We sit next to their fire with them for an hour or so, before deciding to walk to a market town we passed a few miles back. At the market we buy a delicious local version of sesame snacks and eventually the original vehicle (sans airlock) comes to pick us up. We return to Kambia town as we don’t fancy our chances of making it to Maselleh and decide to film the scenes in Kambia instead.

In the afternoon we head to some scrub land to film the first part of the Sick Pekin film. For this we need a pekin (baby). We mention this to Israel en route and he stops the ambulance, jumps out and grabs a nearby baby. He plonks it on my lap and we drive on. Without the mother. Not exactly equity guidelines but no-one seems worried.

Back at home after filming there is no sign of Abbas, so James and I attempt to start the fire. Luckily he rescues us just in time, and advises us always to wait for him as we are “very, very bad’ at lighting fires. I am glad Abbas feels he has the upper hand as he has been incredibly helpful but often fails to understand our strange Western ways. We are careful not to abuse his time when he is supposed to be revising but our insistence on doing our own laundry and washing up (mainly to ensure hot water is used) has meant he is often cast in the role of Dobby, the house elf who can’t do enough to help.

More pasta and a Heinz pudding, then a boy arrives from Hassan’s with a bag of coconuts. Bless him, we had asked him if it was possible to get fresh coconuts in Kambia and he has sourced some for us.

New Year’s Day

Not much to report today as I am presenting early signs of malaria and the long working days are taking their toll. Or maybe I have a hangover.

This is compounded by the fact that there is cockroach armageddon in the toilet. So far about thirty have been killed (it was all going so well) and the chickens are currently eating their dead bodies. Greg and James have been busy stamping, Moses and FT are laughing at our “waging war with the insects” and I am vowing to avoid the loo for the next 24 hours.

We take a walk to the river and around the town (this time narrowly avoiding the secret society), but sit most of the day in the base going slightly toukel mad.

New Year’s Eve

A day off, so we head to Kambia’s other main tourist attraction, catfish well. Toby and I are shocked to discover Greg and James have already been without us. This is something that has been built up in our minds since reading about it in Dr Mike’s Kambia journal.

So, just across the impressive Chinese-built bridge, we turn down a bumpy lane and get out of the truck. The tension mounts as we walk past a house and down a hill to the local well. FT lifts the cover off for us and we throw in the bread we have brought. And there it is. A very very large catfish. Apparently it was put in to keep the water clean and this one was named “Stop the war’ by the Norwegians who put it there. As we return to Kambia and head to the market, I feel strangely satisfied with the simplicity of the experience.

Unfortunately the market trip was not so successful. We have run out of fresh vegetables and hoped to get some more at Checkpoint. We find tiny aubergines (they call them garden eggs) some okra, limes and oranges but not much else. We will have to survive on pasta and pesto for the remainder of our trip as we haven’t hired a cook and the local food is not brilliantly vegetarian friendly.

We take our daily hot shower provided courtesy of the solar showers we have taken with us, which are quite amazing. After 3 hours in the sun the water is scalding and needs to be mixed with cold, but is quite necessary as one trip in the ambulance will have you covered from head to toe in a cloud of thick red dust.

Back in the Toukel we drink Mojitos and Champagne to see in the New Year and then call our friends. The UK seems very far away but I feel incredibly privileged to be here and quite emotional. Or maybe that is the rum.

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.