The rainy season…

Saturday morning… and I can’t help comparing and contrasting recent activities, weather, locations and company with how and where I used to spend my Saturdays. As you can imagine, it’s very different here in Freetown. There are times when I miss my Canadian homeland… Saturdays are one of those times. What I wouldn’t give for a Saturday morning Globe and Mail newspaper or the Toronto Star’s crossword puzzle and a freshly brewed cup of coffee. And, a quiet walk through the streets or along a park path… those are some of the things I miss, especially today.

I was out very late last night – Friday – following an evening, candlelit dinner (infrequent power here, remember) with a young journalist and his family and a party closer to the beach at the other end of Freetown. The dinner, a delicious mix of ground cassava leaves, palm oil, spicy peppers, chicken (a very expensive commodity) and fish, was quite wonderful. Of course, all that was served over the ever-present heap of rice. Most Sierra Leoneons will tell you they haven’t eaten till they’ve had their plate of rice for the day. After dinner, I climbed down the “mountain” to grab a taxi to attend a party at another friend’s house. The party, a casual collection of UN Radio folks, was very interesting and festivities didn’t wrap up till well into the morning hours. Dinners and parties aren’t the norm here but it’s been a long, gruelling week and tippling with journalists, locals and some of the intelligentsia of Freetown was very nice.

It was great to get calls from Isaac and my parents this week… after learning the way around the “ban” on calls to Sierra Leone is to use an international calling card. After two months here, these connections (and e-mails from friends) have become salves to some of the bumps and scrapes inherent with living in Africa. And, noting Canada Day here in Freetown was a slightly lonely entry in my daily diary. The honourary Canadian consul, Frances Fortune, is out of the country and there are scant few other Canadians around… so the day was spent scrambling from one meeting to another, organizing workshops, tracking down NGOs, waiting for government ministers, etc. The American Embassy and the numerous folks involved in their work here held countless events for their July 4th celebrations. I’ve been representing JHR, and Canada I guess, by attending music nights, cocktail parties, silly soirées and other arrogant “red-white-and-blue” bashes.

Other events of the week included the incessant memorials to Michael Jackson contrasted against the passing of two local journalists – one in a car accident up country and the other from typhoid – a stark reminder of the fragility of existence. Just another week, as they say…

It’s “raining buckets” here this morning after a night of storms, howling wind, thunder and lightening. The water cascaded in its impression of Niagara Falls off the roof of the house crashing onto the patio outside my window. And the roar of the wind through the coconut trees was a wall of loud static drowning the groan of the generator from next door. In the first light of morning, awoken again by the crowing rooster, I sit on the verandah watching the rain stream from the thick grey skies.

The weather has finally changed… and the rainy season is upon us. I asked my colleague, Jordan, why the news shows here don’t have weather reports. His response was very funny… “Why, when all they’d say is ‘it’s hot today and it might rain’”. True enough. That, and the only weather station in Sierra Leone was destroyed during the war and hasn’t been replaced. The crumbling shell of a satellite weather tower remains on the horizon but it records nothing and predicts nothing. But I suppose, just by looking up at it, one can predict… it’s either raining or cloudless and hot. Sky gazing… probably just as effective as any weather station…

Interestingly, there are clouds in the sky these days and they roll across the shoreline and up over the hills behind Freetown. Sometimes they’re ominous and at other times they seem to careen gently through the sky. I can’t tell if it’s about to rain or clear. Strange skies… and I’ve been told to always carry an umbrella because “we Sierra Leoneons never know when it’ll rain. It could come at any time.” And, I’ve been caught several times… dashing for the cover of a tin shack or concrete overhang. It’s not a cold rain and funnily enough it only adds to the humidity and heat. Within minutes of the rain cessation, it’s humid as heck… and the raindrops running down my back are quickly exchanged with beads of sweat.

Tomorrow is “beach day” as Sundays have become affectionately known. It’s my reprieve and solace from some of the hassles, noise, frustration and crowds of Freetown. Beach Two is our chosen destination and I’m looking forward to swimming, napping, reading, walking and quiet time. And, weather won’t play a factor… rain or shine – any day at the beach is a day well spent.

Pictures will follow, I promise.
Stephen