This is Africa

My Italian friend Anna, who is a United Nations human rights officer, invited a few of us to help her give a workshop on "Journalism and Human Rights" in Kambia (see Dec. 19 post). It turned out to be quite an eye-opening weekend. First, we heard loud screams right outside the gate at our friend Doctor Tom's house. A woman was flogging her 12-year-old sister because she had nabbed a handful of cassava leaves from the family pot. The shirtless girl cried the pain away while her sister laughed and we tried to gently explain why child abuse is wrong.

The next day Tom gave us a partial tour of the government hospital where he works. We saw a just-arrived three-year-old boy with cerebral malaria. He had been convulsing and when we showed up he moaned in bed while his terrified mother wept in the corner and his father tried to take him home. We moved to the newly opened Therapeutic Feeding Center where seven severely malnourished children sat in their mothers' laps. The current global food crisis directly affects most people here as they simply eat less because food is too expensive. Kambia Hospital admits new cases everyday and the demand is far more than they can accomodate. Finally we moved to a much happier ward next door: Maternity. There we saw two sets of newborn twins. Tom had just delivered two of the tiny tots by C-section the day before. Supposedly they've been named Dr. Tom.

On the workshop's final day, we split the reporters into groups and set out to record one human rights-related interview in town. My group chose the local police station to interview a 14-year-old girl who had been allegedly raped by her teacher. When we arrived, she was seated next to another girl and a woman. The woman had accused her ex-husband of quietly selling her daughter to someone in Freetown three years ago, and the daughter had recently been spotted selling water in the streets there. The other girl was being forced into early marriage by her family. Then, after our uncomfortable interview, a rather dishevelled woman arrived holding her two-year-old's limp body. The little boy had a bloody nose, beaten unconscious by his father. They raced to the hospital and Tom took care of them (they were fine). I left there with my head spinning. It was like a roll call of topics from the kids' news show I produce: sexual exploitation, child trafficking, early marriage, child abuse -- all in one small room in the span of about 20 minutes. Just another day at a Sierra Leone police station.

And back in Makeni, the rainy season is on its way and lightning struck my laptop, killing it on the spot. Sigh. All I can do is shrug it off and remember what they say: T.I.A. -- This is Africa.

Guinea Up and Go Conakrazy

I went to Conakry, the capital of Guinea, which borders Sierra Leone. It's less than 100 miles from here, but a world apart. Guinea is a former French colony, so they speak French and there's an amazing cafe where we enjoyed a $20 buffet. That's more than twice my daily budget here, but oh boy was it worth it. The music is great there -- we went to a jazz bar one night and ended up hanging out with the band. I traveled with 4 Canadian journalists, 2 Irish teachers, 1 Scottish doctor, and a partridge in a pear tree. Strangely enough, we went largely unnoticed in the streets. White people just aren't such a big deal there. A nice change from Sierra Leone.

Guinea is a dictatorship and they're not afraid to show it. Mean-looking soldiers with big guns greeted us as soon as we crossed the border, examined our passports and immunization records at late-night checkpoints in town, and collected countless bribes from our poor taxi drivers. We somehow escaped Guinea without paying a single bribe. Luckily they weren't very persistent with their demands. Just say no.

We rented a house at the Catholic Mission in Conakry. For whatever reason, they have a crocodile. See that door? Yeah, it's held shut with a bit of twine. Not what you want to see when your bedroom is just around the corner. Above is one of our shaky attempts to feed the thing.

This insane tree climber picked mangoes and dropped them into a big sack that I held at the bottom. He was probably 40 feet high. I knew my time as a left fielder would pay off someday.

We took this boat to a small island and the man above was a constant source of entertainment. He belted out religious songs in French and wouldn't let us touch the water (much less swim) because the devil would get us. Here he's practicing his English by reading our guidebook. Rachael and random guy on the right look very impressed.

Goodnight, Conakry.