Bumbuna.

So back to Makeni and the next day we had another, smaller trip in mind. In the afternoon Kieran picked us up again and we were off once more. Well, we were eventually off after we waited to find out who had borrowed his car without asking. But eventually we were away, this time to a place called Bumbuna. We were due to see the waterfall there and also the (apparently now complete) hydroelectric dam which, in theory at least, will be able to provide power for most of the country. In the end we only saw the falls, but they were amazing in themselves. The water was like ice, which in this climate is a true blessing. It was a very short walk to the falls themselves, and then we lounged around the basin and river for an hour or two with the inevitable accompaniment of a load of local kids who had followed our car from the last village we passed.












Michael and Kieran were straight in of course, climbing the dodgy bits and braving the currents before anyone else. Tash and Gearoid stayed out, and I was half and half, enjoying the water but not feeling particularly suicidal and so avoiding the worst bits. So there was some lounging on the rocks, and swimming, and daring the worse bits. One highlight had to be Kieran climbing the side of the waterfall and then being unable to get back down without help. Highly enjoyable.








As can be seen from the pics we also stopped at a nearby village for African Fanta (we both couldn’t find the dam - does it really exist? - and to be honest couldn’t be bothered to look) and got assailed by the local child life. Kids here really love having their photo taken. Except for some of the younger ones who still think you’re going to steal them away (honkeys are a bit of a bogyman for young children, we’re demon seers who abduct kids you know).

Outamba.

After staying in Makeni for a few days plans for a trip were arranged. A vehicle was found and five of us (myself, Michael, Gearoid, Tash and Kieran - who works at Fatima on the mental health project) drove out to the national park at Outamba-Kilimi. This is very out of the way, and the tourist area consists primarily of a number of huts with beds and mosquito nets, a toilet block and an area for fires, clustered together near the river.

It was several hours drive north to get there, during which we passed a number of villages and checks points (I gather travel between provinces is very much frowned upon for most Salonians, the crackers tend just to get waved through however) while listening to a mix of music from the very good to the downright awful, via The Killers who rank very much as hmmmm on the scale of talent. One highlight was the ferry, essentially a wooden construction which carries cars across the river Kilimi, somewhat rickety and swamped by kids whenever Opotos come near. Getting on it is a gamble, and then once your vehicle is on a couple of blokes pull you across using wire rope.






Officially you can see both hippos and elephants at Outamba, however it is very unlikely you will see elephants (only a couple of hundred left in the country) so we didn't do the nature walk, where you sometimes get lucky. Instead we spent a lot of time in the river (blessedly cool, absolutely beautiful in fact) and all got a bit sun burned, and had camp fires and cooked meals. It was a lot of fun, the fun being heightened by the fact that absolutely nobody had brought any form of acoustic guitar. Which is a shame in many ways, because I've often wondered if burning a guitar and basking in the tears of its distraught owner while kicking him repeatedly in the face would be as much fun as I suspect.

Our arrival was tempered by finding we were not alone, almost as soon as we arrived we were greeted not by one of the local wardens, but by what can only be described as a big, gay, fat fuck off American woodsman type. The type with cargo shorts, a 'fanny-pack' and a baseball cap; all garb you could almost forgive him for wearing on holiday if it wasn't evidently clothes he wears every time he leaves his house in Wisconsin. He came from one of the cabin and (in a joking tone, but clearly not actually joking) asked if we had brought the beers.

I'm not sure, but I think my somewhat chilly response may have been the reason he then left us alone and then departed the next day. I do so hope it was.









The highlight of this little trip was of course seeing the hippos. We took two boats downstream, and this was where things get a little complicated. I was in one boat with Michael, Kieran and one warden. Tash and Gearoid were in a second with another warden. One problem was caused by the fact their boat started to fill with water very shortly after leaving the bank, requiring them to make a number of emergency stops to bail it out; this culminated, in what can only be called an episode, on the bank of the river when Tash got stuck in the mud and the two had a fantastic argument about whether she should leave her shoe or not. The other little problem was that the boats needed to be balanced. So in ours Michael and Kieran sat side by side in the centre (as they're both nubile, twinky types) while I sat at the front (because I'm a big fuck off bear with pear hips, like the aforementioned yank but with better fashion sense – and a personality). This meant I had the front oar. I tried, for at least five minutes, but my contribution wasn’t exactly helpful.

Well, I made sure I tipped the warden well.

But the hippos themselves were astonishing, we lurked across the river from them and they kept an eye on us. Dangerous of course, because hippos can hold their breath underwater for five minutes at a time, and so could easily have appeared below us with little to no warning. They're truly magnificent beats however. And a definite highlight to remember. Sadly photos didn't really do them justice.









Not much else to mention from Outamba, we played Scrabble, I came second and the person we were convinced was going lose actually won. There was a lot of campfire cooking, leaving Kieran to pretty much cream himself every time he got to throw on extra logs. And on the way back was passed a crashed and abandoned lorry, seemed to have been there a while too.

Makeni.

So I'm now well into my trip, but in terms of actually blogging about it I'm further behind than Salone is in the Human Development Index. However, as I now have an afternoon's worth of sun to avoid (caused by the lovely pair of red shoulders I’m currently modelling) we may as well jog on.

The next day we caught an early taxi, with some nearby Canadians, to a place where we could get a similarly early taxi to Makeni. Transport in cars and vans here is odd, for a start there is a policy of more people than seats. In a five seater car for example you'll get at least seven people. The driver gets a seat to himself, two others get to go shotgun, and four in the back. Random crevices, boots and roofs can provide space for more people. Now I'm all for going African, but this was too soon, so we paid extra to have a seat each in one of the vans heading Makeni way.







When I arrived I met Tash and Gearoid, Michael's flatmates, and then got the whistlestop tour. I got to see the start of filming for the film on AIDS he is helping to fund / produce (which I brought equipment for from Britain) which is being directed by a somewhat studly local guy called Tyson. We had a wonder around the town, met his football team, saw Magbenteh hospital, and tried to get used to everyone staring at me and shouting. Of course I soon find out from a doctor that the trousers I'm wearing are bad trousers, because they look like army trousers, and wearing said evil trousers can get me arrested. Obviously my preference would be to avoid this, so after a trip to Fatima (beautiful, beautiful air conditioning - horrid, horrid financial corruption) and a spot of lunch (getting quite keen on Kasava, but don’t people here eat anything else) I made damn sure I got changed before witnessing the Epic Match.

This was Michael's team vs. a team sponsored by Flamingos, a local nightclub. It was quite a violent affair, there were a couple of impressive fouls, and victory was eventually attained by Michael’s bunch. He went on in the second half, the country’s love of the Apoto clearly doesn’t extend to football etiquette and Michael found himself as battered as his team. The support was quite full on too, Michael's team (Magbenteh, sponsored by a doctor from the hospital, Bernard, the same man who warned me of my imminent clothing arrest) had been told their supporters weren't allowed to attend because of a minor matter of getting violent. They came anyway, but mostly behaved themselves, though the attention from the young kids (more concentrated when you stand in one place for a while) started to get a bit annoying.










A night out followed, beers with the team (though most were Muslim, so stuck to soft drinks) and then out to Flamingos nightclub, notable for the bad music, lecherous blokes (I approved highly of this) and minging toilets.

Over the next few days I met various people and found my way around. I saw the town centre with it's domineering, unfinished monument, colourful shops and grandiose (not to mention shiny) banks. Had schawarma for lunch (this is my second time, and this time there were no chips) and then a walk around most of the town, taking in the Council and various other sights. I was quite amused to see, when visiting Michael's Council office, that his office appears to have been decorated in the manner of a late-Victorian opium den / brothal.

There's a pretty decent crowd here, unsurprisingly the white people tend to seek each other out, though the UN lot seem a bit distant from the rest. A lot of the talk seems to be around the volunteer work they do, and the staggering around of corruption which seems to pervade it all. One or two seem utterly sick of it all, one or two others seems to have their head firmly wedged in the sand (or to be more accurate wedged in the arses of the wrong people) and everyone else seems caught halfway.

First few days in Freetown.

Hard to know where to start really, I'm in Makeni right now preparing to go on a Hippo expedition but should probably do this chronologically before I begin to forget.


Getting Here.

It would have been a crime to fly from London without doing something, so an afternoon of semi-organised fun was on the cards. It was very pleasant, lunch with Graeme, Gav, Tan, JP & Nicky, then a jaunt around the Darwin exhibition (good fun, especially the protestors outside - and The Natural History Museum is magnificent), followed by some wine & cheese place, and finally getting lathered at a random house party in Clapham. I like Tan's Soho flat, don't think I've ever seen in a place that more screamed Opera Queen.

The next day was the long one, with all the usual tedium of travelling anywhere by plane on the cheap. Hours in Heathrow, a short flight, a couple of hours in Barcelona followed by a very long flight. Eventually arrived in Lungi (after nearly getting off at the wrong airport - being completely unaware the plane was stopping somewhere else first - I still have no idea where) and suddenly it was five in the morning, and I was very tired, and I had an airport to navigate through. Luckily the airport is a similar size to Wylam Post Office so this wasn’t overly long. At the other side of Customs I was met by a slightly greasy looking Michael.


Ferry.

We stayed at Lungi overnight, devoid of sheets but thankfully with a fan, grabbed a few hours sleep and then made a dash for the early ferry. We booked a car following breakfast (very curry like breakfast, nice but strange, will take a little getting used to). This was something like nine in the morning, our driver was drinking Guinness from a can. And I am reliably informed the Guinness here is strong...

We were in plenty of time for the ferry though, and sat on the top deck, watching it fill. It was absolutely rammed, though most people stayed downstairs thankfully. There were a load of kids doing a school run, mostly uniformed, the girls notably forced into green dresses and bonnets. Not to mention a significant number of folk carrying fish to sell.





First look.

Once across the bay (so large it would take half a day to drive around, hence the need for a ferry) we made a dash for Michael'a house (well, Michael's friend Aisling's house) and hired a car. Our driver, clearly a very clever man, decided that avoiding the main road was best and took us through the smaller streets. This proved to be doubly wise when he broke down, and we had the entertaining spectacle of watching him steal wire from a house's fence to try and repair his suspension, while arguing with the drivers of cars now trapped behind him and nearly getting his head kicked in by said furious drivers.

We had the option of inspecting some of the many posters plastered all over the place, mainly religious, often Christian. The Christian's here aren't really interested in the meeker, kinder side of the New Testament, as is perfectly demonstrated by some of the more grandiose titles they give Jesus. There's also some weird ass graffiti in places. However by far the most common posters seem to be for this creep here, who as I type has finished his three day mission to exploit the people of one of the poorest countries on earth with his sinister, TV evangelicalism. But hell, who am I to argue with a man with such a talent for healing the sick.






Beaches.

So we eventually made it to Aisling's, she has a lovely house (I'd say little but it's actually rather large) in a shared compound. It has electricity and water some of the time, a number of rooms and a pretty kick ass balcony for smokes and drinks. We had a bit of a rest and freshen up, and then Michael took me to the beaches.

Lumley beach sits right by Freetown, and it's absolutely lovely, not to mention amazingly clean and quiet (astonishingly so - while Freetown isn’t on par with the likes of Cairo, it’s not exactly small either). We tried a few bars and watched a brilliant method of fishing involving a big net, a very long piece of rope, and a crowd of about twenty people at either end dragging it the shore. We had a look at the catch before we went for dinner, very impressive. The afternoon proved to be a short one, I met some more of Michael's friends, the names of which have mostly escaped me, and we had drinks (deciding not to try the bar which apparently refuses to serve white people) and then dinner. Now I'm not kidding you about this, dinner nearly killed me. I ordered Pepper Chicken, it sounded nice, I was warned it was hot, I liked the sound of that. It arrived, I liked the look of it, so of course I dived in.

I managed about a quarter, and that nearly did me in. In the process of which I got recurring hiccups so fast I barely had time to breath, and I drank a two litre bottle of water in the space of quarter of an hour. Michael tried it after me, and didn't fare much better. Unlike any spicy food I've had before, it got steadily worse the more I ate. Absolutely magnificent, in a Great White Shark kind of a way.






Freetown Proper.

The next day I got to catch up on some sleep and then we had a wander around Freetown’s centre. On our mission in we changed cash with a street vendor, saw the famous Cotton Tree (where slaves were originally sold, then later freed), had a look around the almost empty tourist markets (not many tourists you see, I felt quite bad only to be looking and not buying). The slums were interesting, they're self policing and rather large, but seemed safe enough.

That's one of the most noticeable things, this place feels so safe (more so once you're out in the countryside) and people absolutely love you here, kids especially. Some want money, some want to talk to you, some want their pictures taken (for example the lady in the picture below), some just want to stare half caught between terror and fascination. There's some odd assumptions about white people, the one that we're all rich is probably true from their context, others are bizarre (white people have larger brains, explaining the very contrasting states of Africa and Europe/America - one to keep the bigots happy that).

We also visited Freetown's main hospital, and Michael's friend who is a nurse there. He spends most of his life working there, out of a class of thirty he is the only nurse who stayed on in the hospital itself, most others seemingly going elsewhere where they can make better money (a large number of whom have gone to Iraq).

I'm running out of time so must dash. Got loads more to say but it can wait, have a few more photos instead.

Africa.

Well, I'm finally off.