Monday, August 22, 2011
Life and Death
On Thursday my biggest problem in Sierra Leone was trying to decide whether or not to give up on the “goatee” I’ve spent the last two weeks of my life working on. I don’t think it counts as a real goatee. I don’t think it counts as anything.
On Friday I would have given my “goatee” or anything else I have to go back to the way things were on Thursday. I woke up to a text message from one friend that said the father of another one of our friends had passed away.
It seems important to point out that the friend who texted me was also supposed to celebrate her birthday that evening.
I felt really weird. And really bad. David is a local Sierra Leonean who is good friends with Mohamed, who works at the YMCA. He’s become close friends to numerous people staying there, including me. So when we found out what happened, we tried to do all we could.
One person stayed home from work to be with David. Another rearranged her birthday so that we could all just be together that night. I did the only thing I could think of to help: I went to the supermarket and bought whisky.
Sometimes, you just need a drink. This seemed like one of these times. Plus, as an American, I feel like while abroad it’s my job to bring whisky to any monumental occasion, good or bad.
That night we all hung out at the YMCA, drank whisky, listened to music and pretended like it was any other Friday night. We were all thinking about the same thing, but didn’t say it. Eventually, the music (I’m going to choose to account the rest of the night to that…but in all honesty it was probably the whisky) led us down the street to Krio Wendy’s, our go-to bar.
We danced and laughed and had a legitimately good night.
I never met Mr. Yarjah, but from all accounts he was a good father who loved David and his siblings. I don’t know what he died from, but it sounds like he had been sick for a while.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Obviously, I’m here if David needs anything, but I’m not sure about the rules here. Can I go to the funeral? How can I help? Is it okay to write a column about this? The last one I’m not sure about, so that’s why I’m sticking to the safety and security of a blog post. Besides, I think like two and a half people read this anyway (the half is me…I don’t really proofread…this is all from the heart).
I also really had a strong desire to talk to my parents after this, but was able to corral my nervousness until the usual Sunday night chats. My No. 1 concern here is that something will happen to a loved one back home. I worry more about that than malaria, break-ins, food poisoning or anything else.
I worry about it while back home in the U.S. too. It’s definitely my No. 1 concern there as well. But here the distance just seems to amplify the feeling.
For now, I’m going to continue to help my friend as best I can, whether it’s with a column about his father, having someone to talk to, or even another bottle of whisky (it’s pretty cheap here), all the while praying every night that everybody back home stays safe and healthy.
Right now it’s all about that. I’ll worry about my “goatee” later.
Column No. 28 - My Journal
My Journal
By David Krueger
It probably won’t surprise anybody that, being a journalist, I like to write.
My favorite writing is this, my columns for Awoko. I like writing for an audience. For me, it’s really cool to think that people actually take time out of their busy days to read this. Believe me, I appreciate that more than you can imagine.
However, I feel like it’s also important to write for myself. Before I left the United States I bought a journal to write in while I was here. It was highly recommended that we have something to write in by my university. They’re never going to read it, but they still think it’s healthy to get your thoughts out on paper.
I agree.
Two weeks ago I talked about my friends, last week I talked about my coworkers so today I’m going to talk about something else that’s helping me out greatly in Salone. My journal is an invaluable tool to keep me sane and relaxed.
It allows me an opportunity to dig deeper into my experience here. Often times after I write a column I re-read it and write about it in my journal.
Other times the opposite happens. I’ll write in my journal a little bit and come up with an idea for a column. That’s exactly what happened about an hour ago that inspired this column.
My journal kind of accounts for a behind-the-scenes look at my trip to Sierra Leone. The fact that nobody else gets to read it makes it safe for me to complain about something.
It allows me to write things down that I can’t say to anyone. Every once in a while I have a less than spectacular day. It’s nice to be able to vent about what angers me, and not have anybody tell me that I’m wrong.
Other times I write about stuff that, quite frankly, nobody else cares about. Sometimes I don’t even care about it, but feel like I should include it in the documentation of my trip. Years from now I’ll go back and read my journal, and relive my trip here.
I’ll get to revisit the Port Loko Hospital and the Charlotte Waterfall. I’ll smile as I read about my friends and coworkers while visualizing their faces again in my mind.
From January to March 2010 I studied abroad in Rome, Italy. I had a journal there as well. It was one of the first things I purchased when I arrived. It has the Coliseum on it. I always thought that was really cool.
While packing for Freetown I found that journal and went back and looked through it. It was pretty funny. I remembered exactly how I felt and where I was when I wrote each entry.
I also included artifacts from my trip, like my entry ticket to the Coliseum, a receipt from a meal in Prague and a flyer for the hostel I stayed at in Budapest.
As cool as it was I noticed one glaring fact about my journal: I didn’t write in it very much. Maybe once a week, if I was lucky. There were a lot more entries at first, then they tailed off toward the end of the trip.
Perhaps I was adjusted to life in Rome, or maybe I just didn’t have time to write. Either way, after I saw this I made a goal for my trip to Sierra Leone: actually write in my journal.
I figured since I was going to be here for 84 days, I would like to have 84 pages full by the time I arrive back home. It didn’t seem like that much. I just need to average a page a day. Or three pages every three days. It seemed reasonable.
At the halfway point of my trip (42 days) I had 36 pages written. I was impressed that it was that high, because I didn’t feel like I had been particularly good about writing in my journal. That night I went on a writing tear.
For an hour I transcribed the details of my life. I wrote about it being the midpoint of my trip and reflected on my first couple days and how far I like to think I’ve come since then. I talked about my friends at the YMCA and coworkers and how awesome they both are (that comes up a lot).
Finally, I wrapped up the epic seven-page entry talking about how I have no idea what my life will be like when I get home, as well as a few life lessons I’ve learned here in Africa. Like Rule No. 1, which is never look up. Ever. There’s always a spider there waiting for you. And it’s usually pretty big.
After that entry I was on page 43. I was one page ahead! I got really excited and pleased with myself, thinking that 41 more pages in 42 days would be a piece of cake.
That was on Thursday, 11th August. Today (Friday, 19th August) is the first I’ve written in my journal since then. I’m not going to meet my goal if weeks go by between entries.
So I’m going to re-rededicate myself to writing in my journal. And part of this column is to keep me accountable. If you see me on the streets of Freetown, please say hello, and then ask me when the last time I wrote in my journal was.
I always carry my journal around in my backpack with me. It’s all black, and features the logo for the Seattle Mariners, a professional baseball team from my hometown. The Mariners are one of my favorite sports teams in the world, and my dream job is to cover a baseball team (like the Mariners) for a news outlet. In fact, I’ve even written about that in my Seattle Mariners journal.
I don’t know what the rest of my trip to Sierra Leone will bring for me, but I know I’ll be documenting it regularly in my journal. I’ll never, ever forget this trip, or the things that have happened to me along the way, unless I fall and hit my head and forget who I am, where I’m from and what I’ve done.
I sincerely hope that day never comes, but if it does at least my journal will make sure I can remember my time in Salone.
By David Krueger
It probably won’t surprise anybody that, being a journalist, I like to write.
My favorite writing is this, my columns for Awoko. I like writing for an audience. For me, it’s really cool to think that people actually take time out of their busy days to read this. Believe me, I appreciate that more than you can imagine.
However, I feel like it’s also important to write for myself. Before I left the United States I bought a journal to write in while I was here. It was highly recommended that we have something to write in by my university. They’re never going to read it, but they still think it’s healthy to get your thoughts out on paper.
I agree.
Two weeks ago I talked about my friends, last week I talked about my coworkers so today I’m going to talk about something else that’s helping me out greatly in Salone. My journal is an invaluable tool to keep me sane and relaxed.
It allows me an opportunity to dig deeper into my experience here. Often times after I write a column I re-read it and write about it in my journal.
Other times the opposite happens. I’ll write in my journal a little bit and come up with an idea for a column. That’s exactly what happened about an hour ago that inspired this column.
My journal kind of accounts for a behind-the-scenes look at my trip to Sierra Leone. The fact that nobody else gets to read it makes it safe for me to complain about something.
It allows me to write things down that I can’t say to anyone. Every once in a while I have a less than spectacular day. It’s nice to be able to vent about what angers me, and not have anybody tell me that I’m wrong.
Other times I write about stuff that, quite frankly, nobody else cares about. Sometimes I don’t even care about it, but feel like I should include it in the documentation of my trip. Years from now I’ll go back and read my journal, and relive my trip here.
I’ll get to revisit the Port Loko Hospital and the Charlotte Waterfall. I’ll smile as I read about my friends and coworkers while visualizing their faces again in my mind.
From January to March 2010 I studied abroad in Rome, Italy. I had a journal there as well. It was one of the first things I purchased when I arrived. It has the Coliseum on it. I always thought that was really cool.
While packing for Freetown I found that journal and went back and looked through it. It was pretty funny. I remembered exactly how I felt and where I was when I wrote each entry.
I also included artifacts from my trip, like my entry ticket to the Coliseum, a receipt from a meal in Prague and a flyer for the hostel I stayed at in Budapest.
As cool as it was I noticed one glaring fact about my journal: I didn’t write in it very much. Maybe once a week, if I was lucky. There were a lot more entries at first, then they tailed off toward the end of the trip.
Perhaps I was adjusted to life in Rome, or maybe I just didn’t have time to write. Either way, after I saw this I made a goal for my trip to Sierra Leone: actually write in my journal.
I figured since I was going to be here for 84 days, I would like to have 84 pages full by the time I arrive back home. It didn’t seem like that much. I just need to average a page a day. Or three pages every three days. It seemed reasonable.
At the halfway point of my trip (42 days) I had 36 pages written. I was impressed that it was that high, because I didn’t feel like I had been particularly good about writing in my journal. That night I went on a writing tear.
For an hour I transcribed the details of my life. I wrote about it being the midpoint of my trip and reflected on my first couple days and how far I like to think I’ve come since then. I talked about my friends at the YMCA and coworkers and how awesome they both are (that comes up a lot).
Finally, I wrapped up the epic seven-page entry talking about how I have no idea what my life will be like when I get home, as well as a few life lessons I’ve learned here in Africa. Like Rule No. 1, which is never look up. Ever. There’s always a spider there waiting for you. And it’s usually pretty big.
After that entry I was on page 43. I was one page ahead! I got really excited and pleased with myself, thinking that 41 more pages in 42 days would be a piece of cake.
That was on Thursday, 11th August. Today (Friday, 19th August) is the first I’ve written in my journal since then. I’m not going to meet my goal if weeks go by between entries.
So I’m going to re-rededicate myself to writing in my journal. And part of this column is to keep me accountable. If you see me on the streets of Freetown, please say hello, and then ask me when the last time I wrote in my journal was.
I always carry my journal around in my backpack with me. It’s all black, and features the logo for the Seattle Mariners, a professional baseball team from my hometown. The Mariners are one of my favorite sports teams in the world, and my dream job is to cover a baseball team (like the Mariners) for a news outlet. In fact, I’ve even written about that in my Seattle Mariners journal.
I don’t know what the rest of my trip to Sierra Leone will bring for me, but I know I’ll be documenting it regularly in my journal. I’ll never, ever forget this trip, or the things that have happened to me along the way, unless I fall and hit my head and forget who I am, where I’m from and what I’ve done.
I sincerely hope that day never comes, but if it does at least my journal will make sure I can remember my time in Salone.
Column No. 27 - Happy Birthday Awoko
Happy Birthday Awoko
By David Krueger
This week Awoko celebrated its 13th birthday. I’ve been here for 48 of its 4,745 days of operation, and in that short time I learned early on how important this paper is to those who work for it.
The people at Awoko care about the paper. The reporters, for example, want to go out and cover programs. They want to write stories that help inform the public. They have journalistic standards that help them find the news value of a topic and write about it in a balanced and fair way.
Those are just the names you see in the paper. Meanwhile, there are countless others that make the paper possible. From the cashier and security guard at the office, to the people who run the presses and actually print the newspaper, everybody works, usually around the clock, to get this paper out to its readers.
Mr. Kelvin Lewis, the editor of the paper, cares about it the most. He’s very involved in the process of putting the newspaper together (in a good way). He even sanctioned sending groups of reporters around the country to look at the Free Government Healthcare program to see if it’s successful in helping the citizens of Sierra Leone.
Then there are the other editors, who go through my stories to make sure they’re perfect before they’re put in the paper. I try to make their jobs fairly easy, but more often than not there are quite a few corrections to make. I appreciate their work greatly. Because of it, I will be a better reporter, columnist and writer when I leave Salone.
After I had been here for about a month I finally asked the two questions that had been on my mind since my first day of work. What does “awoko” mean and why does the logo have a parrot in it?
It turns out “awoko” means “somebody (or in this case, something) that talks a lot.” I feel like this is a very appropriate name for a newspaper. We talk a lot and hope the general public listens and remains informed.
The use of the parrot also suddenly became clear. Besides humans, I’m not sure if any animal talks more than a parrot. I’m not really sure if any other animal talks, but I still really like the parrot idea.
In the United States daily newspapers are closing every day. My home city of Seattle, a major metropolitan area, used to have two daily newspapers, The Seattle Times and The Seattle Post-Intelligencer. The latter closed over a year ago, leaving The Times as the only daily paper for over 3.4 million people.
Here there is no lack of newspapers. I read over 10 per day. Some appear more balanced than others, but all are informative and give me a glimpse of journalism in Sierra Leone.
I became very proud the other day while looking through my “Lonely Planet” guide to West Africa. The section on Sierra Leone is fairly short, but it includes an
information box that lists Awoko as one of “the most respected newspapers” here.
Obviously, I agree with Lonely Planet’s assessment.
Awoko has been hosting interns from the University of Washington for the last five years, starting with Michael Carter in 2007. Michael came to one of my classes last December and talked about his experience in Sierra Leone. He spoke about it, years later, like it was the best time of his life.
It was largely because of Michael that I applied for the Foreign Intrigue Scholarship, which sends students around the world to work for various news organizations. I made it very clear early on that Freetown, Sierra Leone was my first choice. I had googled Freetown and the first picture to show up was an incredible sunset over the ocean from Lumley Beach.
From then on, no other city could top Freetown.
I talked to two other people who had come to work at Awoko, Yu Nakayama (who came the year after Michael) and Lillian Tucker (last year’s intern). Both of them spoke incredibly highly of the newspaper, Mr. Lewis and Sierra Leone in general. Yu obviously misses it here. So does Lillian, who had to leave after only a month on the job because of health problems.
I’m very proud to be the fifth in what’s hopefully a long line of Washington Huskies that come to work for a summer in Freetown. I hope that next year’s intern finds me and I get to tell him or her all about my experiences, while informing them of how much fun their going to have working for Awoko.
For a journalist student there really is no better way to spend a summer. I’m living my dream job.
I get to report (which I’ve always wanted to do) and write a column (which I’ve really always wanted to do) about whatever I want in West Africa (which I’ve always wanted to visit).
Whatever happens to me I get to write about it and share the feeling with anybody who wants to read it. Some people don’t really care, and I understand that. But others I’ve talked to said they really enjoy my column, or a particular column. When someone tells me that it’s one of the best feelings in the world.
I’m going to be very sad when I leave not just because I’ll miss all the people and sights of Salone, but also because I’ll be leaving a job that I might never be able to top.
That just means I better enjoy it as much as possible while I can, which I think I’m succeeding at. I love my job, and anybody who talks to me quickly learns that. Everybody that I’ve met here quickly learns what I do.
So, I’d like to say thank you to Awoko for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. Congratulations on putting out a great product for the last 13 years, and I wish you many more successful years of publication (and interns) ahead.
By David Krueger
This week Awoko celebrated its 13th birthday. I’ve been here for 48 of its 4,745 days of operation, and in that short time I learned early on how important this paper is to those who work for it.
The people at Awoko care about the paper. The reporters, for example, want to go out and cover programs. They want to write stories that help inform the public. They have journalistic standards that help them find the news value of a topic and write about it in a balanced and fair way.
Those are just the names you see in the paper. Meanwhile, there are countless others that make the paper possible. From the cashier and security guard at the office, to the people who run the presses and actually print the newspaper, everybody works, usually around the clock, to get this paper out to its readers.
Mr. Kelvin Lewis, the editor of the paper, cares about it the most. He’s very involved in the process of putting the newspaper together (in a good way). He even sanctioned sending groups of reporters around the country to look at the Free Government Healthcare program to see if it’s successful in helping the citizens of Sierra Leone.
Then there are the other editors, who go through my stories to make sure they’re perfect before they’re put in the paper. I try to make their jobs fairly easy, but more often than not there are quite a few corrections to make. I appreciate their work greatly. Because of it, I will be a better reporter, columnist and writer when I leave Salone.
After I had been here for about a month I finally asked the two questions that had been on my mind since my first day of work. What does “awoko” mean and why does the logo have a parrot in it?
It turns out “awoko” means “somebody (or in this case, something) that talks a lot.” I feel like this is a very appropriate name for a newspaper. We talk a lot and hope the general public listens and remains informed.
The use of the parrot also suddenly became clear. Besides humans, I’m not sure if any animal talks more than a parrot. I’m not really sure if any other animal talks, but I still really like the parrot idea.
In the United States daily newspapers are closing every day. My home city of Seattle, a major metropolitan area, used to have two daily newspapers, The Seattle Times and The Seattle Post-Intelligencer. The latter closed over a year ago, leaving The Times as the only daily paper for over 3.4 million people.
Here there is no lack of newspapers. I read over 10 per day. Some appear more balanced than others, but all are informative and give me a glimpse of journalism in Sierra Leone.
I became very proud the other day while looking through my “Lonely Planet” guide to West Africa. The section on Sierra Leone is fairly short, but it includes an
information box that lists Awoko as one of “the most respected newspapers” here.
Obviously, I agree with Lonely Planet’s assessment.
Awoko has been hosting interns from the University of Washington for the last five years, starting with Michael Carter in 2007. Michael came to one of my classes last December and talked about his experience in Sierra Leone. He spoke about it, years later, like it was the best time of his life.
It was largely because of Michael that I applied for the Foreign Intrigue Scholarship, which sends students around the world to work for various news organizations. I made it very clear early on that Freetown, Sierra Leone was my first choice. I had googled Freetown and the first picture to show up was an incredible sunset over the ocean from Lumley Beach.
From then on, no other city could top Freetown.
I talked to two other people who had come to work at Awoko, Yu Nakayama (who came the year after Michael) and Lillian Tucker (last year’s intern). Both of them spoke incredibly highly of the newspaper, Mr. Lewis and Sierra Leone in general. Yu obviously misses it here. So does Lillian, who had to leave after only a month on the job because of health problems.
I’m very proud to be the fifth in what’s hopefully a long line of Washington Huskies that come to work for a summer in Freetown. I hope that next year’s intern finds me and I get to tell him or her all about my experiences, while informing them of how much fun their going to have working for Awoko.
For a journalist student there really is no better way to spend a summer. I’m living my dream job.
I get to report (which I’ve always wanted to do) and write a column (which I’ve really always wanted to do) about whatever I want in West Africa (which I’ve always wanted to visit).
Whatever happens to me I get to write about it and share the feeling with anybody who wants to read it. Some people don’t really care, and I understand that. But others I’ve talked to said they really enjoy my column, or a particular column. When someone tells me that it’s one of the best feelings in the world.
I’m going to be very sad when I leave not just because I’ll miss all the people and sights of Salone, but also because I’ll be leaving a job that I might never be able to top.
That just means I better enjoy it as much as possible while I can, which I think I’m succeeding at. I love my job, and anybody who talks to me quickly learns that. Everybody that I’ve met here quickly learns what I do.
So, I’d like to say thank you to Awoko for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime. Congratulations on putting out a great product for the last 13 years, and I wish you many more successful years of publication (and interns) ahead.
Column No. 26 - Waterfalls and Chimpanzees
Waterfalls and Chimpanzees
By David Krueger
Most days in Sierra Leone I’m a reporter. On Saturday, I got to be a tourist.
I hopped in a rather cramped taxi van with seven other friends and headed to the Charlotte Waterfall and the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary, two locations I’ve looked forward to visiting since my arrival in Sierra Leone.
Sitting in the back of a van with three other people as we were jerked around from side to side (and occasionally up and down) wasn’t the most fun I’ve had in West Africa, but the destinations made up for the bumpy, uncomfortable ride that resulted in a flat tire about 100 meters from the entrance to the chimpanzee sanctuary.
The first stop was the waterfall. The taxi drove down a rather large hill (this is important to the story later) and dropped us off at what was perhaps once a bridge over a small river. From there we met a man who really wanted to show us around.
We followed him to a church, a few houses and then we headed for the main attraction: the waterfall. We hiked along a path for about 15 minutes stopping only at a house where they charged us Le5,000 to visit the waterfall.
I’m not sure how this happened, but the owner of this house is brilliant. He or she realized that the house is on the way to a landmark, that lots of people want to see. I’m 99.9 percent sure the owner of this house does not own the waterfall, nor did he or she have any part of its wondrous development.
Still, they found a way to profit off of the location of their home, and that’s pretty smart. Some might question the validity of the claim to money to continue along a path in nature, others might praise the owner for using good business sense.
Either way, the person made Le40,000 from our group that day, and all they had to do was pop out of a window and ask for money.
We continued down the path, peeking through trees as we saw our target. The waterfall came into view about two minutes before we were there, and we all began taking pictures and walking faster. It’s really fun being a tourist.
Finally, we arrived at the Charlotte Waterfall, and it quickly became one of my five favorite places in Salone.
Just in case you were wondering, the other four, in no particular order, are: the Awoko Newspaper office, Kambia Africana Village, the YMCA in Freetown and every beach I’ve ever been to here.
The United States Embassy and Sierra Leone-Guinea border are honorable mentions.
The thing that separates the Charlotte Waterfall from those places is how overwhelmingly calm it is. We were there for about three hours and we accomplished quite a bit. We sat there, just admiring how breathtakingly beautiful the waterfall was. While there we ate a little snack to recharge our bodies for the rest of the day and I even got in a 30 minute nap.
I was so happy at the waterfall I made the comment (several times) that I would visit it every day if I could. The incredible view along with the perfect weather and comforting and soothing sound of water splashing against rock easily made this one of my favorite places in the world, let alone Sierra Leone.
Then I got stupid.
A friend quickly began climbing the rocks next to the waterfall, and I thought “that looks fun. I can do that.”
It turns out scaling up the rocks wasn’t the problem, that went by relatively easily. It was figuring out a way back down that quickly became the major issue. Fortunately, we found some tree roots that we were able to use to scale down the slippery rocks back to safety.
I thought the hard part was over. Turns out I was wrong.
Just as I got back down and was celebrating a successful adventure and a safe return with my friend, my right foot started to slide and the rest of my body soon followed.
I began sliding down the waterfall which was a terrifying and quite fun experience. It was terrifying because to my right there was a rather large drop off that I didn’t think would feel very good should I end up at the bottom of it.
This is also probably a good time to point out that the current looked very strong, and I can’t swim.
The experience quickly became more fun as I looked to my left and saw a small (and safe) little pool of water that was only up to my ankles.
“Left! Left! LEFT!” I thought as I was sliding down the waterfall.
I’m happy to report I was able to venture left into the little pool. Had I not been able to, you might not be reading this column today. And, the ride down was pretty fun.
I ventured back up to my friends, who had a combination of relief, terror and even a little jealousy on their faces. It turns out my friend had taken a picture while I was sliding, that is probably my favorite picture taken here in Salone. My face, with a blend of fear and excitement, looks pretty hilarious.
We all hung out at the waterfall for a little longer, I tried (unsuccessfully) to dry my clothes and then we headed back to the taxi.
Remember how I said it drove to the bottom of a big hill? Well the taxi almost didn’t make it back up the hill. The ground was wet and soft, and the taxi was heavy, being filled with nine people. Sitting in the cab, we began to worry that soon we might be pushing this rather large vehicle up an even bigger hill.
However, after a few tries we were able to gain some traction and head back up the hill, to visit the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary.
This is another honorable mention for favorite places in Salone. It would have been higher, but it began to rain while we were there.
I had a lot of fun walking around the sanctuary. I got to see a baby chimp with its mother during feeding time in one encampment, as well as a large, angry chimp get mad in another area and start throwing things that began to bang against the fence in another part of the facility.
I don’t know exactly what the chimpanzee threw at the cage and I didn’t wait around to find out. A worker at the sanctuary ushered us away before we could see much else.
Then the rain began, which didn’t really affect me because I was already still pretty wet. Our tour drew to a close, as did one of the best days I’ve had in Salone. We piled back into our taxi for the bumpy ride home, hoping for no more flat tires.
By David Krueger
Most days in Sierra Leone I’m a reporter. On Saturday, I got to be a tourist.
I hopped in a rather cramped taxi van with seven other friends and headed to the Charlotte Waterfall and the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary, two locations I’ve looked forward to visiting since my arrival in Sierra Leone.
Sitting in the back of a van with three other people as we were jerked around from side to side (and occasionally up and down) wasn’t the most fun I’ve had in West Africa, but the destinations made up for the bumpy, uncomfortable ride that resulted in a flat tire about 100 meters from the entrance to the chimpanzee sanctuary.
The first stop was the waterfall. The taxi drove down a rather large hill (this is important to the story later) and dropped us off at what was perhaps once a bridge over a small river. From there we met a man who really wanted to show us around.
We followed him to a church, a few houses and then we headed for the main attraction: the waterfall. We hiked along a path for about 15 minutes stopping only at a house where they charged us Le5,000 to visit the waterfall.
I’m not sure how this happened, but the owner of this house is brilliant. He or she realized that the house is on the way to a landmark, that lots of people want to see. I’m 99.9 percent sure the owner of this house does not own the waterfall, nor did he or she have any part of its wondrous development.
Still, they found a way to profit off of the location of their home, and that’s pretty smart. Some might question the validity of the claim to money to continue along a path in nature, others might praise the owner for using good business sense.
Either way, the person made Le40,000 from our group that day, and all they had to do was pop out of a window and ask for money.
We continued down the path, peeking through trees as we saw our target. The waterfall came into view about two minutes before we were there, and we all began taking pictures and walking faster. It’s really fun being a tourist.
Finally, we arrived at the Charlotte Waterfall, and it quickly became one of my five favorite places in Salone.
Just in case you were wondering, the other four, in no particular order, are: the Awoko Newspaper office, Kambia Africana Village, the YMCA in Freetown and every beach I’ve ever been to here.
The United States Embassy and Sierra Leone-Guinea border are honorable mentions.
The thing that separates the Charlotte Waterfall from those places is how overwhelmingly calm it is. We were there for about three hours and we accomplished quite a bit. We sat there, just admiring how breathtakingly beautiful the waterfall was. While there we ate a little snack to recharge our bodies for the rest of the day and I even got in a 30 minute nap.
I was so happy at the waterfall I made the comment (several times) that I would visit it every day if I could. The incredible view along with the perfect weather and comforting and soothing sound of water splashing against rock easily made this one of my favorite places in the world, let alone Sierra Leone.
Then I got stupid.
A friend quickly began climbing the rocks next to the waterfall, and I thought “that looks fun. I can do that.”
It turns out scaling up the rocks wasn’t the problem, that went by relatively easily. It was figuring out a way back down that quickly became the major issue. Fortunately, we found some tree roots that we were able to use to scale down the slippery rocks back to safety.
I thought the hard part was over. Turns out I was wrong.
Just as I got back down and was celebrating a successful adventure and a safe return with my friend, my right foot started to slide and the rest of my body soon followed.
I began sliding down the waterfall which was a terrifying and quite fun experience. It was terrifying because to my right there was a rather large drop off that I didn’t think would feel very good should I end up at the bottom of it.
This is also probably a good time to point out that the current looked very strong, and I can’t swim.
The experience quickly became more fun as I looked to my left and saw a small (and safe) little pool of water that was only up to my ankles.
“Left! Left! LEFT!” I thought as I was sliding down the waterfall.
I’m happy to report I was able to venture left into the little pool. Had I not been able to, you might not be reading this column today. And, the ride down was pretty fun.
I ventured back up to my friends, who had a combination of relief, terror and even a little jealousy on their faces. It turns out my friend had taken a picture while I was sliding, that is probably my favorite picture taken here in Salone. My face, with a blend of fear and excitement, looks pretty hilarious.
We all hung out at the waterfall for a little longer, I tried (unsuccessfully) to dry my clothes and then we headed back to the taxi.
Remember how I said it drove to the bottom of a big hill? Well the taxi almost didn’t make it back up the hill. The ground was wet and soft, and the taxi was heavy, being filled with nine people. Sitting in the cab, we began to worry that soon we might be pushing this rather large vehicle up an even bigger hill.
However, after a few tries we were able to gain some traction and head back up the hill, to visit the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary.
This is another honorable mention for favorite places in Salone. It would have been higher, but it began to rain while we were there.
I had a lot of fun walking around the sanctuary. I got to see a baby chimp with its mother during feeding time in one encampment, as well as a large, angry chimp get mad in another area and start throwing things that began to bang against the fence in another part of the facility.
I don’t know exactly what the chimpanzee threw at the cage and I didn’t wait around to find out. A worker at the sanctuary ushered us away before we could see much else.
Then the rain began, which didn’t really affect me because I was already still pretty wet. Our tour drew to a close, as did one of the best days I’ve had in Salone. We piled back into our taxi for the bumpy ride home, hoping for no more flat tires.
Monday, August 15, 2011
The Official When I Get Back To Washington To-Do List
The halfway point of my journey recently came and went on Thursday, and I got a little bit sad about leaving Sierra Leone. So, to cheer myself up, I made a list of things I’m going to do upon my arrival back to the states. I’m not excited (per se) to leave Freetown now, but the following activities (which, have for the most part been confirmed; the last four still require a bit more work to make happen but rest assured, they will happen) will definitely make going home a little bit easier.
I think there’s something on this list that everybody will like. If you want to be involved in any of the following activities let me know and we’ll make it happen. Without further ado:
The Official When I Get Back to Washington To-Do List:
-Go to Ocean Shores
-Jay-Z and Kanye Concert
-Go to at least one (or three) more Mariners games
-Hit up the Ave. (for old time’s sake)
-Go to North Dakota for a couple weeks
-Get my motorcycle license
-Go to the Apple Cup (and perhaps a bowl game?)
-Get a job at ESPN
A little bit of North Dakota...in West Africa
The weirdest thing just happened. But before I can tell you that story, I need to tell you this one:
There’s a Target in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Actually, it’s a Super Target. It’s huge. It’s about 1,000,000,000 sq. ft. (I’m estimating). It takes up about 1/3 of the city of Grand Forks.
Okay those last two things aren’t entirely factually accurate, but the rest of this will be.
If you need anything in Grand Forks, that’s your place to go. Whether it’s a new garden hose, the latest DVD release, a tennis racket, anything, you’ll find it there. There’s even a Starbucks for us West Coasters to go get a coffee should we get homesick (or a Frappuccino. I hate how girly that looks. But their delicious. And I don’ t drink coffee. What the hell else am I supposed to do?)(I also hate that spell check recognizes Frappuccino and believes it needs to be capitalized because it’s a Starbucks Frappuccino. I bet cappuccino isn’t capitalized! Hey I was right!)
Bringing it back. Almost every time I go to Target I run into somebody I know, and I don’t know that many people in Grand Forks. But it’s uncanny how often I run into friends, family and family friends.
There’s another thing that happens EVERY time I go to Target with my family. I lose my Grandma and little sister. We always agree on a meeting place and time, but I always finish early and for some reason have this misplaced confidence that tells me “David, you can do it. I bet they’re in produce.” They’re never in produce.
Thank God for cell phones or I’m not sure what we’d do. I’m convinced that before cell phones, people wandered around Super Target for days looking for lost loved ones. Trips to the grocery store probably took almost a week to complete. Although, if you’re going to be lost somewhere for a week, Super Target is the place to be stuck. They have everything you need to survive and then some (see above).
Every time I go back to North Dakota I go to Super Target. It’s part of my vacation checklist, one of those things you just have to do. As soon as I get to North Dakota after I leave Freetown, the Super Target will probably be one of the first places I visit. It’s that awesome.
So why did I just spend 379 words (don’t worry, it’s right; I checked!) talking about a Super Target in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Because you had to understand how much that Super Target means to me, in order to realize how much the following event meant to me.
I got home from work and took my polo off to change into a much more comfortable (and fashionable) Ken Griffey Jr. Mariners shirt (that’s right, I’m still representing in West Africa! Let’s go M’s! Get your heads out of your collective butts!). As I took it off, a weird smell entered my nose. It wasn’t bad or unpleasant, in fact, it was the opposite.
It smelt like the Super Target in Grand Forks, North Dakota.
I don’t know how to explain what it smells like, but that’s why my polo smells like. I suppose it just smells like any other Target, but my mind instantly went to Grand Forks. Stores here don’t smell like that. They smell different. Not bad. Just different. (Some smell like really, really old fish. They smell bad.)
I haven’t been to that Super Target in over a year, and I don’t think this particular polo has ever been to that store. But now I have a dilemma on my hands. I love smelling my polo, and don’t want to wear it and have it lose its bulls-eye related scent.
(Please don’t worry. It’s not lost on me how blessed I am that this is my biggest problem of the day.)
I currently have my shirt sealed in a humidity-free, vacuum-sealed plastic bag. I think it’s going to stay there until I decide that I need to wear the polo again because I’m sick of the other four shirts I brought for work.
Or until I buy another polo, allowing me to keep mine in the bag and preserve the aroma of Super Target (which would be the worst cologne ever). I know it sounds stupid, but I like that I can go to North Dakota whenever I want to, just by smelling a polo.
These are the things I spend a good part of my day thinking about. I think I’m starting to lose my mind. Look for the next blog post when a dirty sock reminds me of New York City!
Column No. 25- On my own
On my own
By David Krueger
I spent the first six weeks of my trip tagging along with coworkers as they covered meetings, announcements and sporting events, helping them write stories, authoring a few of my own and observing how journalism in Sierra Leone works.
Last Thursday I was sent to a press conference, on my own.
I was a little nervous. I always feel a little anxious whenever I get ready for a work outing. I like to think it keeps me sharp and on my toes. Sometimes it just makes me do stupid things.
Like on the walk to Talking Drum Studios. I was headed there for a press conference about “The Team Salone,” a new television program co-produced by SLBC that shows the value of dealing with diversity through a football team trying to win a tournament.
On the way to the event, I was rereading the letter dropped off at the Awoko office to make sure I knew as much about the television series as I could before the press conference, so I could make sure that any questions I might have for my article would be answered.
I was so busy reading and coming up with questions that I didn’t see the window that had been opened and was sticking out into the walkway directly in front of me. My shoulder bounced off the window and immediately began to hurt.
Fortunately, only about two people saw me run shoulder-first into the window. They couldn’t hide their smiles, but at least they didn’t say anything to make fun of the kid who walked directly into a window.
With the window incident behind me I continued to the Talking Drum Studios office, or at least what I thought was the office. I saw a sign on a three-story building on Bathurst Street, but didn’t know how to get to that third story.
I walked around to the corner of the building, to what I thought might be the studio, but turned out to be a chemicals store. Fortunately, a very friendly woman who saw me rubbing my shoulder, took me around to the other side of the building and pointed me in the right direction.
Once I finally got to the right room of the correct office I sat down and waited. And waited. I know that conferences rarely start on time here in Salone, but I figured I should be here a few minutes early just in case.
I passed the time listening to reporters from other news outlets discussing next year’s Presidential election between Maada Bio and current President Dr. Ernest Bai Koroma. I didn’t participate in the discussion because I really don’t feel like I know enough about the political climate here in Sierra Leone to contribute anything to the debate.
Eventually, the press conference began at 12:30 p.m., only about a half hour later than scheduled. I really didn’t mind. It gave me a chance to re-reread the letter and become an expert on this particular television show. Plus, sitting at a table, there were very few ways to hurt my shoulder while reading.
The presentation began and the 15 or so reporters there immediately began feverishly taking notes. We heard all about “The Team,” which, quite frankly, sounds like a good show. It has a good message, one that I think everybody can get on board with.
“It’s all around a simple metaphor: if you don’t cooperate, you don’t score goals,” said Ambrose James, the Country Director for the Search for Common Ground, which oversees Talking Drum Studios.
After an overview of the program, the media was treated to the first ten minutes of the first episode. It’s a good show. The acting is very good and the actual football scenes are pretty well orchestrated.
As the press conference began to wind down, and the other journalists were making sure all of their questions were answered I began to piece together my article in my head. I usually try to mentally outline my stories before I leave, in case I realize there’s some vital information I’m forgetting to get.
One time I covered a high school basketball game for a newspaper back home in America and forgot to ask the coach what his name was. I was able to find it on the internet, but was still a little embarrassed that I forgot to ask my main source his name. I like to get as much information as possible now before it’s too late.
Confident I had everything I needed I began to relax a little bit when another journalist inadvertently reminded me that my work was not complete. I saw him taking a few snapshots of the program and realized that was a really good idea. I had remembered to bring my camera along, and figured I may as well use it.
After the pictures were taken and I was again sure I had all I needed, I waited for the final question to be answered and then headed back to the office to write my story. It went by fairly quickly, and it turned out I did in fact, have everything I needed. Including a picture, that ran with the story in Friday’s paper.
Last Thursday was a fun day. It felt good to be able to go out on my own and prove that I can get stories done. I’m getting more and more confident and excited to work here in Sierra Leone every day, and I hope that feeling continues as I get to go out and cover additional programs by myself.
This isn’t to say I don’t like going out with my coworkers, because I love doing that. I have a lot of questions about life here, and it’s incredibly helpful and informative to have someone along with me to explain what’s going on. However, it’s good to get out on your own once in a while. I like showing people what I can do.
The only thing I might change is from now on while walking to press conferences I’m going to try to keep my head up. I can always reread and re-reread the press releases when I arrive, hopefully without a sore shoulder.
By David Krueger
I spent the first six weeks of my trip tagging along with coworkers as they covered meetings, announcements and sporting events, helping them write stories, authoring a few of my own and observing how journalism in Sierra Leone works.
Last Thursday I was sent to a press conference, on my own.
I was a little nervous. I always feel a little anxious whenever I get ready for a work outing. I like to think it keeps me sharp and on my toes. Sometimes it just makes me do stupid things.
Like on the walk to Talking Drum Studios. I was headed there for a press conference about “The Team Salone,” a new television program co-produced by SLBC that shows the value of dealing with diversity through a football team trying to win a tournament.
On the way to the event, I was rereading the letter dropped off at the Awoko office to make sure I knew as much about the television series as I could before the press conference, so I could make sure that any questions I might have for my article would be answered.
I was so busy reading and coming up with questions that I didn’t see the window that had been opened and was sticking out into the walkway directly in front of me. My shoulder bounced off the window and immediately began to hurt.
Fortunately, only about two people saw me run shoulder-first into the window. They couldn’t hide their smiles, but at least they didn’t say anything to make fun of the kid who walked directly into a window.
With the window incident behind me I continued to the Talking Drum Studios office, or at least what I thought was the office. I saw a sign on a three-story building on Bathurst Street, but didn’t know how to get to that third story.
I walked around to the corner of the building, to what I thought might be the studio, but turned out to be a chemicals store. Fortunately, a very friendly woman who saw me rubbing my shoulder, took me around to the other side of the building and pointed me in the right direction.
Once I finally got to the right room of the correct office I sat down and waited. And waited. I know that conferences rarely start on time here in Salone, but I figured I should be here a few minutes early just in case.
I passed the time listening to reporters from other news outlets discussing next year’s Presidential election between Maada Bio and current President Dr. Ernest Bai Koroma. I didn’t participate in the discussion because I really don’t feel like I know enough about the political climate here in Sierra Leone to contribute anything to the debate.
Eventually, the press conference began at 12:30 p.m., only about a half hour later than scheduled. I really didn’t mind. It gave me a chance to re-reread the letter and become an expert on this particular television show. Plus, sitting at a table, there were very few ways to hurt my shoulder while reading.
The presentation began and the 15 or so reporters there immediately began feverishly taking notes. We heard all about “The Team,” which, quite frankly, sounds like a good show. It has a good message, one that I think everybody can get on board with.
“It’s all around a simple metaphor: if you don’t cooperate, you don’t score goals,” said Ambrose James, the Country Director for the Search for Common Ground, which oversees Talking Drum Studios.
After an overview of the program, the media was treated to the first ten minutes of the first episode. It’s a good show. The acting is very good and the actual football scenes are pretty well orchestrated.
As the press conference began to wind down, and the other journalists were making sure all of their questions were answered I began to piece together my article in my head. I usually try to mentally outline my stories before I leave, in case I realize there’s some vital information I’m forgetting to get.
One time I covered a high school basketball game for a newspaper back home in America and forgot to ask the coach what his name was. I was able to find it on the internet, but was still a little embarrassed that I forgot to ask my main source his name. I like to get as much information as possible now before it’s too late.
Confident I had everything I needed I began to relax a little bit when another journalist inadvertently reminded me that my work was not complete. I saw him taking a few snapshots of the program and realized that was a really good idea. I had remembered to bring my camera along, and figured I may as well use it.
After the pictures were taken and I was again sure I had all I needed, I waited for the final question to be answered and then headed back to the office to write my story. It went by fairly quickly, and it turned out I did in fact, have everything I needed. Including a picture, that ran with the story in Friday’s paper.
Last Thursday was a fun day. It felt good to be able to go out on my own and prove that I can get stories done. I’m getting more and more confident and excited to work here in Sierra Leone every day, and I hope that feeling continues as I get to go out and cover additional programs by myself.
This isn’t to say I don’t like going out with my coworkers, because I love doing that. I have a lot of questions about life here, and it’s incredibly helpful and informative to have someone along with me to explain what’s going on. However, it’s good to get out on your own once in a while. I like showing people what I can do.
The only thing I might change is from now on while walking to press conferences I’m going to try to keep my head up. I can always reread and re-reread the press releases when I arrive, hopefully without a sore shoulder.
Column No. 24- The Halfway Point
The halfway point
By David Krueger
Thursday marked the exact midpoint of my trip to Sierra Leone. I’ve been here for 42 days, and will be leaving in 42 more.
I realized this fact two weekends ago while lying in bed trying not to get sick. Even then, while I had my head under a pillow, I didn’t want to leave. I was sick in Sierra Leone, and, even now, there’s no place I’d rather be sick.
When I first arrived here, the number of days I would be here (84) seemed rather daunting. I wasn’t worried I wouldn’t make it or anything like that, but almost three months is a long time to stay in a foreign land.
Now I can’t believe it’s already half over. The time has just flown by. That’s a testament to how much fun I’m having in Salone, and how much I enjoy being here.
It makes me sad that starting today I will be closer to the end of my trip than the beginning. I’ve had a number of incredible opportunities in my first six weeks here, and still have a few things left to check off on my Sierra Leone To-Do List in my final weeks here.
I want to go to River No. 2. Everyone says it’s the most beautiful beach in Sierra Leone. I want to see for myself. In order to verify this fact, I’ll also need to see numerous other beaches in the area. Comparing how beautiful and awesome beaches are might be the most fun activity in the history of the world.
For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to get to the Chimpanzee Sanctuary, and see the waterfalls on the way there. Two weekends ago I got sick and couldn’t move, let alone see chimpanzees, and last Saturday when I was supposed to go it rained constantly, making us question how much fun a trip to waterfalls and chimpanzees would be.
There’s still so much of the country I want to see. I want to see the other big cities I’ve read so much about in the news: Bo, Kenema, Kono and Makeni.
On the other side, I want to see the smaller areas and a few tourist spots, like the hippopotamuses on Tewai Island.
I want to be a fixture at Atlantic Crossing, Aces and Old School on as many Friday and Saturday nights as possible, and not lose my cell phone again at any of those places.
I would love to eat a bread and beans sandwich and not get sick.
I hope to continue writing columns that at least a few people enjoy reading about all of these activities.
Above all, I want to have a happy and healthy end to my trip.
The first 42 days haven’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of dilemmas in Salone too.
The first one that comes to mind is the spiders in Kambia, but that’s not the worst event. It’s close, but that title has to go to my room being broken into. Justified or not, it changed my perception of safety here in Freetown. I’m still careful about locking my bags and my room when I’m gone, and I am probably overly observant of people while in large crowds.
Next was the weekend I spent unable to leave bed. I still don’t know who to blame for this. It was my decision to eat the sandwich, but other people were going and encouraged me to come. Plus, the cook herself has to take some (or most) of the burden for giving me an unhygienic sandwich right?
Finally the Kambia Spider Wars. That wasn’t fun. I still think about it some nights while lying in bed. I don’t sleep very well afterwards.
However, meeting Mr. Njai in Kambia was so incredible it greatly diminished the horror of the Spider Wars. The food in Sierra Leone is so delicious (I still love stew green and ground nut soup) and dwarfs the drama caused by that one bread and beans sandwich. Everyone I’ve met in Sierra Leone has been so welcoming and helpful it’s helped reduce the fear and anger I felt after the break in.
I’m really becoming at home in Salone, and don’t really even want to think about leaving it.
Yesterday I began with a quote from a Beatles’ song. Today I’m going to end with one from rock group Bon Jovi’s mega-hit “Living on a Prayer.” The beginning of the chorus states: “we’re halfway there, woooooah oh, living on a prayer.”
I pray the next 42 days are just as phenomenal, informative, astonishing, beautiful and life-changing as the first 42.
With less break-ins and spiders.
By David Krueger
Thursday marked the exact midpoint of my trip to Sierra Leone. I’ve been here for 42 days, and will be leaving in 42 more.
I realized this fact two weekends ago while lying in bed trying not to get sick. Even then, while I had my head under a pillow, I didn’t want to leave. I was sick in Sierra Leone, and, even now, there’s no place I’d rather be sick.
When I first arrived here, the number of days I would be here (84) seemed rather daunting. I wasn’t worried I wouldn’t make it or anything like that, but almost three months is a long time to stay in a foreign land.
Now I can’t believe it’s already half over. The time has just flown by. That’s a testament to how much fun I’m having in Salone, and how much I enjoy being here.
It makes me sad that starting today I will be closer to the end of my trip than the beginning. I’ve had a number of incredible opportunities in my first six weeks here, and still have a few things left to check off on my Sierra Leone To-Do List in my final weeks here.
I want to go to River No. 2. Everyone says it’s the most beautiful beach in Sierra Leone. I want to see for myself. In order to verify this fact, I’ll also need to see numerous other beaches in the area. Comparing how beautiful and awesome beaches are might be the most fun activity in the history of the world.
For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to get to the Chimpanzee Sanctuary, and see the waterfalls on the way there. Two weekends ago I got sick and couldn’t move, let alone see chimpanzees, and last Saturday when I was supposed to go it rained constantly, making us question how much fun a trip to waterfalls and chimpanzees would be.
There’s still so much of the country I want to see. I want to see the other big cities I’ve read so much about in the news: Bo, Kenema, Kono and Makeni.
On the other side, I want to see the smaller areas and a few tourist spots, like the hippopotamuses on Tewai Island.
I want to be a fixture at Atlantic Crossing, Aces and Old School on as many Friday and Saturday nights as possible, and not lose my cell phone again at any of those places.
I would love to eat a bread and beans sandwich and not get sick.
I hope to continue writing columns that at least a few people enjoy reading about all of these activities.
Above all, I want to have a happy and healthy end to my trip.
The first 42 days haven’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of dilemmas in Salone too.
The first one that comes to mind is the spiders in Kambia, but that’s not the worst event. It’s close, but that title has to go to my room being broken into. Justified or not, it changed my perception of safety here in Freetown. I’m still careful about locking my bags and my room when I’m gone, and I am probably overly observant of people while in large crowds.
Next was the weekend I spent unable to leave bed. I still don’t know who to blame for this. It was my decision to eat the sandwich, but other people were going and encouraged me to come. Plus, the cook herself has to take some (or most) of the burden for giving me an unhygienic sandwich right?
Finally the Kambia Spider Wars. That wasn’t fun. I still think about it some nights while lying in bed. I don’t sleep very well afterwards.
However, meeting Mr. Njai in Kambia was so incredible it greatly diminished the horror of the Spider Wars. The food in Sierra Leone is so delicious (I still love stew green and ground nut soup) and dwarfs the drama caused by that one bread and beans sandwich. Everyone I’ve met in Sierra Leone has been so welcoming and helpful it’s helped reduce the fear and anger I felt after the break in.
I’m really becoming at home in Salone, and don’t really even want to think about leaving it.
Yesterday I began with a quote from a Beatles’ song. Today I’m going to end with one from rock group Bon Jovi’s mega-hit “Living on a Prayer.” The beginning of the chorus states: “we’re halfway there, woooooah oh, living on a prayer.”
I pray the next 42 days are just as phenomenal, informative, astonishing, beautiful and life-changing as the first 42.
With less break-ins and spiders.
Column No. 23- I get by with a little help from my friends
I get by with a little help from my friends
By David Krueger
The Beatles, one of, if not the most famous rock group of all time, once sang “I get by with a little help from my friends.”
Apparently, they interned in Freetown.
Before I left America, I was worried I might get a little lonely in Sierra Leone. I didn’t know anybody here and didn’t (and still don’t) speak very good Krio.
However, it turns out my concern was unfounded. I was immediately welcomed into the Awoko family, which is just that, a family. Everyone looks out for everyone else. I’ve been incredibly blessed to have a great group of coworkers who constantly check on me to make sure I have stuff to do and that I’m doing okay and feeling happy and healthy.
Unfortunately, I can’t live at work. I’m not sure where I’d sleep. Perhaps there’s room by the cashier’s office and computer desk, but I’m not sure how comfortable it would be. It would also be hard to cook and shower.
So at night I head home to the YMCA, but I still don’t get lonely. I have another family waiting for me when I get back home. That’s right, I call the YMCA my home.
There’s a great group of people that are there, just like my roommates back in America. We ask about each other’s days, get some dinner and talk about life in Freetown before we all venture off to bed.
On the weekends, we go out to the bars together, and look out for one another to make sure everyone gets home safely. If one of us gets very sick, let’s say from food poisoning, another one rushes to the rescue and gets the sick individual home safely.
It’s a very impressive group of people.
For instance, look at Mohamed. He’s a first year student at Fourah Bay College, working on a degree in peace and conflict studies. His goal is to be President of Sierra Leone. I’ve already assured him that when I’m President of the United States, the U.S. and Salone will have an incredibly strong relationship. I’m looking forward to this day.
Mo also was a receptionist at the YMCA, but left to go study in the U.K. He came back and works at the YMCA, taking great care of everyone. He arranges rooms (which he also orchestrates cheaper, long-stay rates for), dinner/dancing excursions, money exchanging and anything else someone needs. Mohamed hopes to study in America through the Fulbright Scholarship, and then come back to Sierra Leone to help his country. I can’t think of anybody better suited for this award.
Then there’s Anaïs, a PhD student working for the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology. The eldest of the group, she has taken on the roles of pharmacist, chef, accountant, tour guide, Krio teacher and therapist among others. In fact, it was Anaïs who got me home while I was the sickest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m still thanking her for that.
As a child, Anaïs lived in Freetown while her father worked at the department of French at Fourah Bay College for four years. She returned for a research project in 2008 and is now studying the role of the Sherbro ethnic group in national reconstruction and social cohesion in Sierra Leone. She has been here for four months and will remain here until midway through 2012.
Anaïs enjoys the provinces more than the big city of Freetown, but admitted she likes hanging out on the balcony of the YMCA, where she feels like “I am part of the furniture now.” She also likes dancing in the rain at Krio Wendy’s.
Magdalena, who hails from Austria, writes reports for the Campaign for Good Governance. “Auntie M,” as she’s been called (see, I told you we were a family) hand-picked Freetown over other possible summer destinations in Nairobi and South Africa.
“Auntie M” wants to work for a non-profit group, and hopes her experience here will help her with that. She’s working on getting two Master’s Degrees back home, which should also benefit her job hunt. Like Anaïs, she likes going out in Freetown. She loves the “lively” mood around the city, and the “beautiful, beautiful landscape” in the area around it.
There’s also a large German contingent at the YMCA, starting with Katharina. She is an intern at the Association for Rural Development’s Microfinance institute. She observes and helps with the loan disbursement process, which decides who gets approved for a loan.
Katharina likes her job because it’s exactly what she wants to do when she’s done with school. Her favorite part of the job is actually visiting the clients and getting to know different people in various tribes outside of the big city. Like everybody else at the YMCA, she enjoys going out, and is having a great time in Sierra Leone.
Finally, there’s David. Or “German David” as he’s sometimes known. (You might have correctly guessed that that would make me “American David.”) Born in Sierra Leone, he left for Germany when he was one year old. He came back to Salone in 2005.
Now, he has one year left at Fourah Bay College, where he’s studying economics. Even though we share the same name, there are very few physical similarities between us. I’m about 1.7 meters tall, and he has to be over 2 meters in height. He speaks German and Krio (and, fortunately, English), I speak English and a very little bit of Spanish. He’s tall, dark and handsome, I’m short, pale and hopefully at least decent-looking.
There’s a saying back home that says something along the lines of friends are the family we choose. Or is it that friends can become your family? I’m not really sure. The main point is to describe how important friends are in our lives.
My trip to Salone wouldn’t be the same without them.
By David Krueger
The Beatles, one of, if not the most famous rock group of all time, once sang “I get by with a little help from my friends.”
Apparently, they interned in Freetown.
Before I left America, I was worried I might get a little lonely in Sierra Leone. I didn’t know anybody here and didn’t (and still don’t) speak very good Krio.
However, it turns out my concern was unfounded. I was immediately welcomed into the Awoko family, which is just that, a family. Everyone looks out for everyone else. I’ve been incredibly blessed to have a great group of coworkers who constantly check on me to make sure I have stuff to do and that I’m doing okay and feeling happy and healthy.
Unfortunately, I can’t live at work. I’m not sure where I’d sleep. Perhaps there’s room by the cashier’s office and computer desk, but I’m not sure how comfortable it would be. It would also be hard to cook and shower.
So at night I head home to the YMCA, but I still don’t get lonely. I have another family waiting for me when I get back home. That’s right, I call the YMCA my home.
There’s a great group of people that are there, just like my roommates back in America. We ask about each other’s days, get some dinner and talk about life in Freetown before we all venture off to bed.
On the weekends, we go out to the bars together, and look out for one another to make sure everyone gets home safely. If one of us gets very sick, let’s say from food poisoning, another one rushes to the rescue and gets the sick individual home safely.
It’s a very impressive group of people.
For instance, look at Mohamed. He’s a first year student at Fourah Bay College, working on a degree in peace and conflict studies. His goal is to be President of Sierra Leone. I’ve already assured him that when I’m President of the United States, the U.S. and Salone will have an incredibly strong relationship. I’m looking forward to this day.
Mo also was a receptionist at the YMCA, but left to go study in the U.K. He came back and works at the YMCA, taking great care of everyone. He arranges rooms (which he also orchestrates cheaper, long-stay rates for), dinner/dancing excursions, money exchanging and anything else someone needs. Mohamed hopes to study in America through the Fulbright Scholarship, and then come back to Sierra Leone to help his country. I can’t think of anybody better suited for this award.
Then there’s Anaïs, a PhD student working for the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology. The eldest of the group, she has taken on the roles of pharmacist, chef, accountant, tour guide, Krio teacher and therapist among others. In fact, it was Anaïs who got me home while I was the sickest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m still thanking her for that.
As a child, Anaïs lived in Freetown while her father worked at the department of French at Fourah Bay College for four years. She returned for a research project in 2008 and is now studying the role of the Sherbro ethnic group in national reconstruction and social cohesion in Sierra Leone. She has been here for four months and will remain here until midway through 2012.
Anaïs enjoys the provinces more than the big city of Freetown, but admitted she likes hanging out on the balcony of the YMCA, where she feels like “I am part of the furniture now.” She also likes dancing in the rain at Krio Wendy’s.
Magdalena, who hails from Austria, writes reports for the Campaign for Good Governance. “Auntie M,” as she’s been called (see, I told you we were a family) hand-picked Freetown over other possible summer destinations in Nairobi and South Africa.
“Auntie M” wants to work for a non-profit group, and hopes her experience here will help her with that. She’s working on getting two Master’s Degrees back home, which should also benefit her job hunt. Like Anaïs, she likes going out in Freetown. She loves the “lively” mood around the city, and the “beautiful, beautiful landscape” in the area around it.
There’s also a large German contingent at the YMCA, starting with Katharina. She is an intern at the Association for Rural Development’s Microfinance institute. She observes and helps with the loan disbursement process, which decides who gets approved for a loan.
Katharina likes her job because it’s exactly what she wants to do when she’s done with school. Her favorite part of the job is actually visiting the clients and getting to know different people in various tribes outside of the big city. Like everybody else at the YMCA, she enjoys going out, and is having a great time in Sierra Leone.
Finally, there’s David. Or “German David” as he’s sometimes known. (You might have correctly guessed that that would make me “American David.”) Born in Sierra Leone, he left for Germany when he was one year old. He came back to Salone in 2005.
Now, he has one year left at Fourah Bay College, where he’s studying economics. Even though we share the same name, there are very few physical similarities between us. I’m about 1.7 meters tall, and he has to be over 2 meters in height. He speaks German and Krio (and, fortunately, English), I speak English and a very little bit of Spanish. He’s tall, dark and handsome, I’m short, pale and hopefully at least decent-looking.
There’s a saying back home that says something along the lines of friends are the family we choose. Or is it that friends can become your family? I’m not really sure. The main point is to describe how important friends are in our lives.
My trip to Salone wouldn’t be the same without them.
Column No. 22- Writing Postcards
Writing postcards
By David Krueger
I got an unforeseen day off on Monday when I woke up and my left eye was redder than a fire extinguisher. I had this feeling that I shouldn’t go to work and spread my eye infection to all my coworkers so I remained at home and got a few things done.
One of those things was writing postcards. I had been putting it off for about three weeks, and finally didn’t have an excuse anymore. It’s not that I don’t love my friends and family. It’s just that writing and addressing 15 postcards takes a while. Two and a half hours to be exact.
However, once I got on a postcard roll the time passed rather quickly. I figured out a “system” that for some reason I believed made the process go faster.
First, I addressed all the postcards. This is the biggest part of what caused the delay. I had to talk to my mother and father back in America to get addresses for 13 of the 15 postcards. Once I did that on Sunday, there was really no reason not to start.
After all of the postcards were addressed, then the process of actually writing messages began. This part took the longest, but it was by far the most fun. I had a rotation of stories that I could tell people based on what I thought they’d like to hear about.
For instance, my aunt and uncle who are very proud of my graduation from journalism school got to hear all about how awesome my job is. My friends back home in Marysville, where it rains a lot, got to hear about the rainy season. My father’s postcard began with a sentence in Krio.
The postcard to my mother assured her that I was doing fine and all of my friends and coworkers were taking good care of me, while the postcard to my grandparents talked about how much fun the family reunion in July looked based on the pictures I saw on Facebook.
I didn’t mention the eye infection in any of the postcards. It didn’t seem important enough to bring up.
There were a few similarities that each postcard shared. They all sent well wishes to the reader, hoping that their summer back home was going well. Each individual postcard was also dated (“8/8/11”) because I’m curious to see when they arrive at their destination. They are going all over the country, and even the world.
One is going to my aunt and uncle in Tennessee, on the east coast of the United States. A few are going to family members in the Midwest, and a large contingent are on their way to Washington State in the Pacific Northwest.
Now that I’m done and preparing to go to the post office to send these off once and for all, I’m realizing how therapeutic writing the postcards actually was. Yesterday morning wasn’t the best as I woke up with an eye that looked like it belonged to the Terminator.
But, as I wrote each postcard, and thought about some of the cool things I’ve done in the last month, I couldn’t help but smile as I realized what an extraordinary trip I’ve had. And I’m not even half done! That mark comes on Thursday.
I really began to appreciate all I’ve been through so far. The more I wrote “8/8/11” the more I couldn’t believe that it was already August 8th.
As soon as I finish writing this I’m going to run to the post office and ship these postcards off. I’m excited for them to reach their various destinations. I hope that they bring smiles to those who read them. I want someone to see a postcard in their mailbox and get really excited. I’m pretty sure that none of my friends and family have a postcard from Sierra Leone already.
The one, minor concern I have is whether or not the postcards will arrive. Any time something is shipped from one continent to another there are a number of chances for it to get lost. But I’m going to put my trust in the Sierra Leone and United States Postal Services, and hope that they can deliver my postcards for me.
I’m not going to go so far as to say it was a good thing I woke up Monday morning with an eye infection, but the negative occurrence was able to have a positive impact on my life and the lives of 29 people soon to receive postcards (some are addressed to entire families). I like turning bad events into good results.
It makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, and triumphed over adversity.
The worst thing about eye infections, which I get back home way more often than I’d like to admit, is that I cannot wear my contact lenses. I have to wear my glasses if I want to be able to see, which I usually do. Unfortunately, I strongly dislike wearing my glasses. They’re too big for my head, and make my face look kind of funny.
On the other hand (or in this case, the other eye) the infection could have been a lot worse. My eye already almost looks normal, minus the glasses that are hanging over them. Plus, I finally had the time and energy to write 15 postcards, and send greetings from Sierra Leone across the world.
By David Krueger
I got an unforeseen day off on Monday when I woke up and my left eye was redder than a fire extinguisher. I had this feeling that I shouldn’t go to work and spread my eye infection to all my coworkers so I remained at home and got a few things done.
One of those things was writing postcards. I had been putting it off for about three weeks, and finally didn’t have an excuse anymore. It’s not that I don’t love my friends and family. It’s just that writing and addressing 15 postcards takes a while. Two and a half hours to be exact.
However, once I got on a postcard roll the time passed rather quickly. I figured out a “system” that for some reason I believed made the process go faster.
First, I addressed all the postcards. This is the biggest part of what caused the delay. I had to talk to my mother and father back in America to get addresses for 13 of the 15 postcards. Once I did that on Sunday, there was really no reason not to start.
After all of the postcards were addressed, then the process of actually writing messages began. This part took the longest, but it was by far the most fun. I had a rotation of stories that I could tell people based on what I thought they’d like to hear about.
For instance, my aunt and uncle who are very proud of my graduation from journalism school got to hear all about how awesome my job is. My friends back home in Marysville, where it rains a lot, got to hear about the rainy season. My father’s postcard began with a sentence in Krio.
The postcard to my mother assured her that I was doing fine and all of my friends and coworkers were taking good care of me, while the postcard to my grandparents talked about how much fun the family reunion in July looked based on the pictures I saw on Facebook.
I didn’t mention the eye infection in any of the postcards. It didn’t seem important enough to bring up.
There were a few similarities that each postcard shared. They all sent well wishes to the reader, hoping that their summer back home was going well. Each individual postcard was also dated (“8/8/11”) because I’m curious to see when they arrive at their destination. They are going all over the country, and even the world.
One is going to my aunt and uncle in Tennessee, on the east coast of the United States. A few are going to family members in the Midwest, and a large contingent are on their way to Washington State in the Pacific Northwest.
Now that I’m done and preparing to go to the post office to send these off once and for all, I’m realizing how therapeutic writing the postcards actually was. Yesterday morning wasn’t the best as I woke up with an eye that looked like it belonged to the Terminator.
But, as I wrote each postcard, and thought about some of the cool things I’ve done in the last month, I couldn’t help but smile as I realized what an extraordinary trip I’ve had. And I’m not even half done! That mark comes on Thursday.
I really began to appreciate all I’ve been through so far. The more I wrote “8/8/11” the more I couldn’t believe that it was already August 8th.
As soon as I finish writing this I’m going to run to the post office and ship these postcards off. I’m excited for them to reach their various destinations. I hope that they bring smiles to those who read them. I want someone to see a postcard in their mailbox and get really excited. I’m pretty sure that none of my friends and family have a postcard from Sierra Leone already.
The one, minor concern I have is whether or not the postcards will arrive. Any time something is shipped from one continent to another there are a number of chances for it to get lost. But I’m going to put my trust in the Sierra Leone and United States Postal Services, and hope that they can deliver my postcards for me.
I’m not going to go so far as to say it was a good thing I woke up Monday morning with an eye infection, but the negative occurrence was able to have a positive impact on my life and the lives of 29 people soon to receive postcards (some are addressed to entire families). I like turning bad events into good results.
It makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something, and triumphed over adversity.
The worst thing about eye infections, which I get back home way more often than I’d like to admit, is that I cannot wear my contact lenses. I have to wear my glasses if I want to be able to see, which I usually do. Unfortunately, I strongly dislike wearing my glasses. They’re too big for my head, and make my face look kind of funny.
On the other hand (or in this case, the other eye) the infection could have been a lot worse. My eye already almost looks normal, minus the glasses that are hanging over them. Plus, I finally had the time and energy to write 15 postcards, and send greetings from Sierra Leone across the world.
Column No. 21- My No. 1 Problem
My No. 1 problem
By David Krueger
There are many differences between the Sierra Leone and American cultures. This probably doesn’t surprise anybody.
What does surprise me is the one difference that has become the biggest challenge for me here in West Africa, and I bet it’s not what a person would expect. It’s certainly not the main issue I thought I’d be facing on my trip.
It’s not the food. That’s delicious. It’s not the sporadic electricity. I brought a lamp. It’s not even the driving, which can be reckless to say the least. I actually really like the motorbike rides.
No, the issue that I’m having the hardest time dealing with here is the assumption that seemingly everyone has that I have a lot of money.
Because I don’t.
I literally emptied my bank account to come here. When I get back to America, I’m going to have $0. I hope my father will be happy to see me on his couch for a couple days until I can find a job, since that’s probably what’s going to happen.
Every morning the first thing I do when I get to work is figure out how much money I spent the previous day and try to rework a budget for the remainder of the trip based on that. Right now it’s very close. If I eat nothing but bread the last two days I’m here I should be okay.
In other words, I’m not going to be buying much September 18th through the 22nd.
It’s not like I’ve been blowing through money uncontrollably either. Paying for my room is expensive, but aside from that I usually can slide by on about Le8,000 a day, which is about the equivalent of two U.S. Dollars. Really the only things I’ve purchased that I didn’t absolutely need were a Sierra Leone football jersey and an Africana shirt. You know what, no. I needed those.
But I didn’t have a lot of money before I came, and the money that I do have is quickly being taken away from me for lodging and food.
Money is my biggest concern for this trip. My health is a close second, but if I ever get really sick (even sicker than last weekend which I pray doesn’t happen) I’m going to need money to be okay.
All this leads me to my problem: everybody wants money from me. I’m convinced it’s the reason half of the people I’ve talked to in Salone approached me. Who am I kidding? It’s probably at least 90 percent.
I learned early on that people with white skin were automatically assumed to be rich. It probably doesn’t help that I wear button up shirts every day either. That’s not my fault though! I’m trying to be professional for work. Believe me, I’d much rather be wearing a t-shirt.
The truth is I feel bad when I say no. Friends and coworkers have told me not to worry about it; that they understand. But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m disappointing them. Whether it was because of the color of my skin or not, they still came to me for help, and I couldn’t give it to them.
I really don’t like the feeling like I’ve let somebody down. Sometimes, I feel like as a poor white person, I’ve let everybody in this country down.
Believe me, if I’ve told you “no” (something I’m not particularly good at) I guarantee I feel just as bad if not worse than you do.
I know that I can’t change a countrywide stereotype with one article, especially since it is unlikely the people asking me for money will read this. Sometimes it’s just therapeutic to write about. I’m sure there’s at least one other white person somewhere in Freetown who feels bad when they turn someone requesting money down because they just don’t have it.
It’s been bumming me out since I got here, and I want to fix it. I wasn’t sure how, but I think I finally have a solid plan.
Sierra Leone, I know you like to bargain, so let’s try that. Right now, I have no money. It’s like I want to buy an Africana shirt, but don’t have sufficient funds. The merchant wants Le50,000, but all I have is Le5,000, and that’s obviously not enough. So what do you do?
You go home, get more cash and come back. Except in my case, there’s no more money at home. I’d have to really go home (to America) to get more money, and then come back. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Years from now, when I’m old(er) and rich, I will come back to Sierra Leone. I will buy that Africana shirt, and help as many people here as I can while I’m at it. Now, I’m not going to be throwing money around in the streets and causing a riot, but I will find a way to help many of those in this great country.
I’ve had a lot of help here in Salone, and I want to give back. I really do. I just can’t right now.
By David Krueger
There are many differences between the Sierra Leone and American cultures. This probably doesn’t surprise anybody.
What does surprise me is the one difference that has become the biggest challenge for me here in West Africa, and I bet it’s not what a person would expect. It’s certainly not the main issue I thought I’d be facing on my trip.
It’s not the food. That’s delicious. It’s not the sporadic electricity. I brought a lamp. It’s not even the driving, which can be reckless to say the least. I actually really like the motorbike rides.
No, the issue that I’m having the hardest time dealing with here is the assumption that seemingly everyone has that I have a lot of money.
Because I don’t.
I literally emptied my bank account to come here. When I get back to America, I’m going to have $0. I hope my father will be happy to see me on his couch for a couple days until I can find a job, since that’s probably what’s going to happen.
Every morning the first thing I do when I get to work is figure out how much money I spent the previous day and try to rework a budget for the remainder of the trip based on that. Right now it’s very close. If I eat nothing but bread the last two days I’m here I should be okay.
In other words, I’m not going to be buying much September 18th through the 22nd.
It’s not like I’ve been blowing through money uncontrollably either. Paying for my room is expensive, but aside from that I usually can slide by on about Le8,000 a day, which is about the equivalent of two U.S. Dollars. Really the only things I’ve purchased that I didn’t absolutely need were a Sierra Leone football jersey and an Africana shirt. You know what, no. I needed those.
But I didn’t have a lot of money before I came, and the money that I do have is quickly being taken away from me for lodging and food.
Money is my biggest concern for this trip. My health is a close second, but if I ever get really sick (even sicker than last weekend which I pray doesn’t happen) I’m going to need money to be okay.
All this leads me to my problem: everybody wants money from me. I’m convinced it’s the reason half of the people I’ve talked to in Salone approached me. Who am I kidding? It’s probably at least 90 percent.
I learned early on that people with white skin were automatically assumed to be rich. It probably doesn’t help that I wear button up shirts every day either. That’s not my fault though! I’m trying to be professional for work. Believe me, I’d much rather be wearing a t-shirt.
The truth is I feel bad when I say no. Friends and coworkers have told me not to worry about it; that they understand. But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m disappointing them. Whether it was because of the color of my skin or not, they still came to me for help, and I couldn’t give it to them.
I really don’t like the feeling like I’ve let somebody down. Sometimes, I feel like as a poor white person, I’ve let everybody in this country down.
Believe me, if I’ve told you “no” (something I’m not particularly good at) I guarantee I feel just as bad if not worse than you do.
I know that I can’t change a countrywide stereotype with one article, especially since it is unlikely the people asking me for money will read this. Sometimes it’s just therapeutic to write about. I’m sure there’s at least one other white person somewhere in Freetown who feels bad when they turn someone requesting money down because they just don’t have it.
It’s been bumming me out since I got here, and I want to fix it. I wasn’t sure how, but I think I finally have a solid plan.
Sierra Leone, I know you like to bargain, so let’s try that. Right now, I have no money. It’s like I want to buy an Africana shirt, but don’t have sufficient funds. The merchant wants Le50,000, but all I have is Le5,000, and that’s obviously not enough. So what do you do?
You go home, get more cash and come back. Except in my case, there’s no more money at home. I’d have to really go home (to America) to get more money, and then come back. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Years from now, when I’m old(er) and rich, I will come back to Sierra Leone. I will buy that Africana shirt, and help as many people here as I can while I’m at it. Now, I’m not going to be throwing money around in the streets and causing a riot, but I will find a way to help many of those in this great country.
I’ve had a lot of help here in Salone, and I want to give back. I really do. I just can’t right now.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
So, uh...what the hell?
I know I’m halfway around the world, and I know there are a million other things I should be more worried about than this, but I just can’t stop thinking about one thing:
Seattle Seahawks, what the hell are you thinking?
I don’ t know how to feel. On one hand I’m excited, because Sidney Rice is coming to town. So is Zach Miller. The former single-handedly beat me one week in fantasy football. The latter helped me dominate my league(s). [Until both championship games. I don’t want to talk about it.]
And who’s here to throw to them? Tavaris Jackson. The same Tavaris Jackson I’ve heard my grandfather complain about the entire 2010 football season. I mean the ENTIRE football season. “Where the hell is he running?” and “I wonder if he knows how stupid that was” were the two nicest things he said about him.
It’s ok though. We have “options” at quarterback. Option No. 2 (or No. 1…who the hell knows? Nobody’s really winning this game) is the great Charlie Whitehurst. I say “great” because just typing “Charlie Whitehurst” makes me depressed. I’m in a humid, dark room in Sierra Leone with a sore throat and babies crying all around me. This might just be what puts me over the edge.
I know Matt Hasselbeck was old(ish). At 36, he’s closer to 40 than 30. He’s also closer to 60 than 1, but who cares? People love Matt Hasselbeck. I love Matt Hasselbeck. People will rally around Matt Hasselbeck. Matt Hasselbeck demolished the Saints with a slightly above average receiving corps and an offensive line that was held together with silly putty. The large man across the street could probably be at least a third string offensive lineman on the Seattle Seahawks.
Now, Matt’s gone. Although if he had to go somewhere, I’m so glad he went to Tennessee, who I’ve decided have officially leap-frogged the Minnesota Vikings as my second favorite team. They may even take over the No. 1 spot and the dynamic duo that is Jackson and Whitehurst. (That sounds like the crappiest law firm ever. I hate this.) I only know four people on the team:
1.) Jake Locker (he’s all you really need to know. He’s the future!) 2.) Hasselbeck (he’s going to mold the future. Jake lucked the heck out. 3.) Chris Johnson (almost murdered my fantasy football team last year, then saved it a couple times; he’ll be ok this year though. Matt will whip him into shape.) 4.) Kenny Britt (I think he’s on the Titans. I’m not really sure. I feel like I’ve heard of Tennessee Titan Receiver Kenny Britt before, but now I’m having second thoughts).
The moral of the story is: I’m not going to miss much being gone for the first three weeks of the football season. I might not even check until I get back. News/scores are kind of tough to get here and I’d rather not know the Seahawks are 0-3 running the “Owlcat” (a formation they’ll develop with Jackson, Whitehurst and fellow All-Star/rock star QBs Jake Delhomme and Derek Anderson behind center). Again, why the hell not?
Of course, it’s always possible that the General Manager of a professional football team knows what he’s doing. Maybe it’s a strategy. Upgrade every position on the football field except the position that matters the most.
I didn’t say it was a good strategy.
I’m sad. I always envisioned Jake and Matt on the same team…only it was the Seahawks! Can you imagine Hasselbeck mentoring Jake, who will have Zach Miller and Sidney Rice as his go to guys for the next four years? The Seahawks could have made it happen. But they didn’t.
And now I’m sitting in Africa, typing this and trying not to cry. I had to go buy my first chocolate of the week because I was so sad. Which wasn’t the worst thing. Twix are awesome! So I guess this wasn’t a complete loss. At least not until the next NFL season starts.
Luckily, my fantasy football team will still be awesome. This year we’re going from 2nd to 1st. Together we can…win the Together We Can football league. Gramps, Chris, Swaney, Casey, KJ, Natalie, Chris’s Dad, and all the people I don’t know. It’s on! David’s back for 2011 and I’m promising more trades (at least trade offers), smack talk and victories than last year!
This took a weird turn. I wasn’t going to announce my fantasy football dominance when this started. But that’s how life is sometimes. You never know what’s going to happen. It’s always up in the air. You win some, you lose some.
Unless you’re starting Tavaris Jackson or Charlie Whitehurst at quarterback. Then you’re going to lose everything.
Seattle Seahawks, what the hell are you thinking?
I don’ t know how to feel. On one hand I’m excited, because Sidney Rice is coming to town. So is Zach Miller. The former single-handedly beat me one week in fantasy football. The latter helped me dominate my league(s). [Until both championship games. I don’t want to talk about it.]
And who’s here to throw to them? Tavaris Jackson. The same Tavaris Jackson I’ve heard my grandfather complain about the entire 2010 football season. I mean the ENTIRE football season. “Where the hell is he running?” and “I wonder if he knows how stupid that was” were the two nicest things he said about him.
It’s ok though. We have “options” at quarterback. Option No. 2 (or No. 1…who the hell knows? Nobody’s really winning this game) is the great Charlie Whitehurst. I say “great” because just typing “Charlie Whitehurst” makes me depressed. I’m in a humid, dark room in Sierra Leone with a sore throat and babies crying all around me. This might just be what puts me over the edge.
I know Matt Hasselbeck was old(ish). At 36, he’s closer to 40 than 30. He’s also closer to 60 than 1, but who cares? People love Matt Hasselbeck. I love Matt Hasselbeck. People will rally around Matt Hasselbeck. Matt Hasselbeck demolished the Saints with a slightly above average receiving corps and an offensive line that was held together with silly putty. The large man across the street could probably be at least a third string offensive lineman on the Seattle Seahawks.
Now, Matt’s gone. Although if he had to go somewhere, I’m so glad he went to Tennessee, who I’ve decided have officially leap-frogged the Minnesota Vikings as my second favorite team. They may even take over the No. 1 spot and the dynamic duo that is Jackson and Whitehurst. (That sounds like the crappiest law firm ever. I hate this.) I only know four people on the team:
1.) Jake Locker (he’s all you really need to know. He’s the future!) 2.) Hasselbeck (he’s going to mold the future. Jake lucked the heck out. 3.) Chris Johnson (almost murdered my fantasy football team last year, then saved it a couple times; he’ll be ok this year though. Matt will whip him into shape.) 4.) Kenny Britt (I think he’s on the Titans. I’m not really sure. I feel like I’ve heard of Tennessee Titan Receiver Kenny Britt before, but now I’m having second thoughts).
The moral of the story is: I’m not going to miss much being gone for the first three weeks of the football season. I might not even check until I get back. News/scores are kind of tough to get here and I’d rather not know the Seahawks are 0-3 running the “Owlcat” (a formation they’ll develop with Jackson, Whitehurst and fellow All-Star/rock star QBs Jake Delhomme and Derek Anderson behind center). Again, why the hell not?
Of course, it’s always possible that the General Manager of a professional football team knows what he’s doing. Maybe it’s a strategy. Upgrade every position on the football field except the position that matters the most.
I didn’t say it was a good strategy.
I’m sad. I always envisioned Jake and Matt on the same team…only it was the Seahawks! Can you imagine Hasselbeck mentoring Jake, who will have Zach Miller and Sidney Rice as his go to guys for the next four years? The Seahawks could have made it happen. But they didn’t.
And now I’m sitting in Africa, typing this and trying not to cry. I had to go buy my first chocolate of the week because I was so sad. Which wasn’t the worst thing. Twix are awesome! So I guess this wasn’t a complete loss. At least not until the next NFL season starts.
Luckily, my fantasy football team will still be awesome. This year we’re going from 2nd to 1st. Together we can…win the Together We Can football league. Gramps, Chris, Swaney, Casey, KJ, Natalie, Chris’s Dad, and all the people I don’t know. It’s on! David’s back for 2011 and I’m promising more trades (at least trade offers), smack talk and victories than last year!
This took a weird turn. I wasn’t going to announce my fantasy football dominance when this started. But that’s how life is sometimes. You never know what’s going to happen. It’s always up in the air. You win some, you lose some.
Unless you’re starting Tavaris Jackson or Charlie Whitehurst at quarterback. Then you’re going to lose everything.
Column No. 20-Learning Krio
Learning Krio
By David Krueger
It made sense to me that if I was going to live somewhere for three months I should speak the language. If I was in a foreign land where I couldn’t talk to anybody for 84 days, I could see myself getting lonely very fast.
I read up on Sierra Leone, and learned that English was the official language. This made me really excited. I speak English! This was going to be a breeze.
Then I heard about Krio, which people and books described as “pigeon English” or “broken English.” Again, I felt confident in my ability to communicate with those speaking Krio and turned my attention to other items on my pre-departure checklist, like vaccinations, which were not fun.
Turns out I should have done a bit more brushing up on the Krio language. It is based on English, and I can understand some of it, but it’s not nearly as easy to pick up as I had hoped. After actually studying Krio for the better part of last week I know about five phrases.
Fortunately, I can get pretty far with those five phrases.
Phrase No. 1: “How di bodi?” See this is easy to understand in English. Literally, “how is the body,” this is the most common greeting I’ve found in Sierra Leone, along with Phrases Nos. 2 and 3: “How di wok” (“How is work?”) and “How di morning/day/evening” (“How is the morning/day/evening”)?
These make up the bulk of the Krio that I actually speak on a daily basis, which sadly isn’t very much yet. However, once in a while I like to throw a new phrase at my coworkers and impress them. That’s where phrases Nos. 4 and 5 come in. Sometimes it’s an “I dae go na hose” (“I’m going to go to my house”) or a “hosei you dae go” (“where are you going”)?
I’m not going to say that’s all a person needs to get by in Sierra Leone, but it’ll get someone a long way. I wanted to learn more though so I borrowed a Krio Manuel from a friend and began taking notes. There I learned numerous gems like “tehnki” (“thanks”), “ohmohs” (“how much”) and “reni” (“rainy”).
Then things got really fun.
I came across my favorite Krio phrase by far: “aw de go de go.” I just love how this sounds. If you’re reading this column out loud, you just had a lot of fun. Admit it. It means “how are things?” and is a useful phrase that can be used every day with everyone.
I can also introduce myself, and provide the utmost basic information to a stranger. Although it’s rare for me to try to throw down this much Krio at once, I have tried, rather unsuccessfully, to get through it a couple times. I messed it up, but the people I was talking to still seemed to understand what I was trying to say and smiled as I gave it my best.
I started with a “kushe” (“hello”) to get the conversation started. After a greeting I was asked my name. I answered that it was David and “a kohmohn na America” (“I am from America”). My chatting companion seemed pleased and then asked me a question I didn’t understand.
But I didn’t panic. I thought I heard “wok” in the question so I shot right into the reason I was here. “A kam wok na Awoko Newspaper,” I said proudly.
Turns out, I hadn’t been asked why I was here. I wasn’t even asked about work. The gentleman I was talking to asked me how long I was here.
At least he seemed to be impressed by my pride in my employer.
Will there be a column completely in Krio before I go? It’s highly unlikely. But it’s good to know what people are trying to say to me, as well as what’s going on in the world around me. I can understand some Krio if I listen very carefully.
I also know when my coworkers are talking about me. Although, the fact that they’re looking at me and smiling while they talk also kind of helps to give it away.
Lately, I have a tendency to blend Krio and English into what I like to call “Kri-lish.” A common Kri-lish phrase is “hello, how di body?” Another good one is “Aw di wok go yesterday?” I like this because everybody can understand Kri-lish. There’s usually sufficient Krio for Sierra Leoneans to understand, and just enough English for me to get by.
Over the next two months I hope to continue to learn more and more Krio. While I doubt I’ll find a phrase cooler than “aw de go de go,” I would like to one day be able to carry whole conversations in Krio, even if it’s just a 30-second chat. I think I’m off to a good start.
A nem David ehn a de lan lili bit na Krio (“my name is David and I am learning a little bit of Krio”).
By David Krueger
It made sense to me that if I was going to live somewhere for three months I should speak the language. If I was in a foreign land where I couldn’t talk to anybody for 84 days, I could see myself getting lonely very fast.
I read up on Sierra Leone, and learned that English was the official language. This made me really excited. I speak English! This was going to be a breeze.
Then I heard about Krio, which people and books described as “pigeon English” or “broken English.” Again, I felt confident in my ability to communicate with those speaking Krio and turned my attention to other items on my pre-departure checklist, like vaccinations, which were not fun.
Turns out I should have done a bit more brushing up on the Krio language. It is based on English, and I can understand some of it, but it’s not nearly as easy to pick up as I had hoped. After actually studying Krio for the better part of last week I know about five phrases.
Fortunately, I can get pretty far with those five phrases.
Phrase No. 1: “How di bodi?” See this is easy to understand in English. Literally, “how is the body,” this is the most common greeting I’ve found in Sierra Leone, along with Phrases Nos. 2 and 3: “How di wok” (“How is work?”) and “How di morning/day/evening” (“How is the morning/day/evening”)?
These make up the bulk of the Krio that I actually speak on a daily basis, which sadly isn’t very much yet. However, once in a while I like to throw a new phrase at my coworkers and impress them. That’s where phrases Nos. 4 and 5 come in. Sometimes it’s an “I dae go na hose” (“I’m going to go to my house”) or a “hosei you dae go” (“where are you going”)?
I’m not going to say that’s all a person needs to get by in Sierra Leone, but it’ll get someone a long way. I wanted to learn more though so I borrowed a Krio Manuel from a friend and began taking notes. There I learned numerous gems like “tehnki” (“thanks”), “ohmohs” (“how much”) and “reni” (“rainy”).
Then things got really fun.
I came across my favorite Krio phrase by far: “aw de go de go.” I just love how this sounds. If you’re reading this column out loud, you just had a lot of fun. Admit it. It means “how are things?” and is a useful phrase that can be used every day with everyone.
I can also introduce myself, and provide the utmost basic information to a stranger. Although it’s rare for me to try to throw down this much Krio at once, I have tried, rather unsuccessfully, to get through it a couple times. I messed it up, but the people I was talking to still seemed to understand what I was trying to say and smiled as I gave it my best.
I started with a “kushe” (“hello”) to get the conversation started. After a greeting I was asked my name. I answered that it was David and “a kohmohn na America” (“I am from America”). My chatting companion seemed pleased and then asked me a question I didn’t understand.
But I didn’t panic. I thought I heard “wok” in the question so I shot right into the reason I was here. “A kam wok na Awoko Newspaper,” I said proudly.
Turns out, I hadn’t been asked why I was here. I wasn’t even asked about work. The gentleman I was talking to asked me how long I was here.
At least he seemed to be impressed by my pride in my employer.
Will there be a column completely in Krio before I go? It’s highly unlikely. But it’s good to know what people are trying to say to me, as well as what’s going on in the world around me. I can understand some Krio if I listen very carefully.
I also know when my coworkers are talking about me. Although, the fact that they’re looking at me and smiling while they talk also kind of helps to give it away.
Lately, I have a tendency to blend Krio and English into what I like to call “Kri-lish.” A common Kri-lish phrase is “hello, how di body?” Another good one is “Aw di wok go yesterday?” I like this because everybody can understand Kri-lish. There’s usually sufficient Krio for Sierra Leoneans to understand, and just enough English for me to get by.
Over the next two months I hope to continue to learn more and more Krio. While I doubt I’ll find a phrase cooler than “aw de go de go,” I would like to one day be able to carry whole conversations in Krio, even if it’s just a 30-second chat. I think I’m off to a good start.
A nem David ehn a de lan lili bit na Krio (“my name is David and I am learning a little bit of Krio”).
Column No. 19-My life on shuffle
My life on shuffle
By David Krueger
Sometimes my iPod just understands me.
At night when I can’t sleep, I tend to grab my music player and put it on shuffle. Now and then it plays a perfect playlist to put me right to sleep. Other nights it surprises (and startles) me by blasting some German techno that my friend put on my iPod and didn’t tell me about.
Tuesday night, was a beautiful, almost poetic blend.
The very first song featured Drake, a Canadian rapper who’s one of my favorite musical artists. I feel like I can relate to his songs, especially the following line, which I couldn’t rephrase any better if I tried:
“Homesick just when I thought I was sick of home.”
Now, I’m not really sick of home, but I was really excited for my trip. I wanted to get out and see the world, and leave my city behind for a few months. Saturday and Sunday were the first time I was really hit with homesickness, as I laid in bed and struggled to lift and drink a small bottle of water.
“Homesick” is an interesting phrase. I’d bet at least Le5,000 that it comes from somebody who was traveling abroad and wanted to go home because they got sick.
I imagine that while going on tours for months at a time, Drake occasionally gets sick. I bet it’s those times were he also gets a little homesick, even though he thought he was sick of home.
Next up on the playlist was a little rock n’ roll, with an alternative rock group called Forever the Sickest Kids. The song was perfect for two reasons.
First, the name of the song is “Keeps on Bringing Me Down,” and the chorus begins with: “why does the world as I know it, keep on bringing me down?”
This past weekend, and even up to today as I’m still not fully recovered, the world (or at least a bread and beans sandwich) definitely brought me down. It not only brought me down. It took me down, kept me down and beat me up while I was down.
Second, the very first line of the song made me smile when I heard it: “It’s a sunny day on the west coast.”
I know they’re talking about the west coast of the United States, probably California because the only other states on the west coast are Washington (where I’m from) and Oregon and trust me, there are very few sunny days in either of those states.
However, I’m currently on a west coast and on Tuesday morning/afternoon it was even sunny for about 30 minutes. Then the clouds came, along with torrential downpours, and the sun went away. But, at least for a little while, I too had a sunny day on the west coast.
Really silly things like this make me feel better. Which is why the next song assured the playlist was going to be a winner.
All of a sudden I heard one of my favorite songs by two of my favorite artists. Lil’ Wayne and the aforementioned Drake collaboration “Right Above It.”
This is why I’m sure my iPod loves me. I listen to this song a lot. Not only does it have a catchy hook and some very smart rhymes by the two hip hoppers, but it’s one of the best songs to listen to if a person ever just needs a pick-me-up or wants to feel a wave of confidence rush over them.
I needed both.
I lip-synched along with Drake and Weezy (as he’s known back home because of his unique voice) until I got to my favorite part of the song, which I sang so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if the people downstairs heard me.
Lying in bed, all tucked in for the night, bobbing my head up and down, and smiling uncontrollably I belted out: “Life is a beach, I’m just playing in the sand.”
It’s probably important to note that this was my favorite part of the song long before I got to Sierra Leone. But, now that I’m here (and have played in the sand several times) it’s definitely one of my go to songs while going to bed, getting ready in the morning or just sitting around my room writing in my journal.
To be incredibly honest, I wasn’t sure how the shuffle could get any better, but it did. Favorites like “Good Life” by OneRepublic and “No Hands” by Waka Flocka Flame helped ease me into a deep sleep. The former talking about how “this has gotta be the good life” which, for the most part, Salone has been. The latter is a good get-pumped song that reminds me of bars and clubs back home.
A few more songs played as my eyelids began to get heavier and heavier. Just when I thought it was about time to shut the iPod off, “Where We Gonna Go From Here” came on.
As the title suggests, the singer (one Mat Kearney) is unsure of where his life is going to go from the current point. If there’s any song I can relate to right now it’s this one. I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, let alone when I get back from Sierra Leone.
I don’t have a plan. I’m terrible at making them, and I feel like they rarely turn out how they’re supposed to. After I return to America as a college graduate I have to try to find a job. Somewhere. I could stay in Seattle, or end up somewhere across the country like New York or Miami. I really don’t know where I’m going to go from here. At all.
To call this song soft rock is an understatement. It’s so calm and soothing it could have single-handedly put me to sleep.
But it didn’t have to.
It had the help of the World’s Greatest IPod. I wonder what it’s got planned for me tonight.
By David Krueger
Sometimes my iPod just understands me.
At night when I can’t sleep, I tend to grab my music player and put it on shuffle. Now and then it plays a perfect playlist to put me right to sleep. Other nights it surprises (and startles) me by blasting some German techno that my friend put on my iPod and didn’t tell me about.
Tuesday night, was a beautiful, almost poetic blend.
The very first song featured Drake, a Canadian rapper who’s one of my favorite musical artists. I feel like I can relate to his songs, especially the following line, which I couldn’t rephrase any better if I tried:
“Homesick just when I thought I was sick of home.”
Now, I’m not really sick of home, but I was really excited for my trip. I wanted to get out and see the world, and leave my city behind for a few months. Saturday and Sunday were the first time I was really hit with homesickness, as I laid in bed and struggled to lift and drink a small bottle of water.
“Homesick” is an interesting phrase. I’d bet at least Le5,000 that it comes from somebody who was traveling abroad and wanted to go home because they got sick.
I imagine that while going on tours for months at a time, Drake occasionally gets sick. I bet it’s those times were he also gets a little homesick, even though he thought he was sick of home.
Next up on the playlist was a little rock n’ roll, with an alternative rock group called Forever the Sickest Kids. The song was perfect for two reasons.
First, the name of the song is “Keeps on Bringing Me Down,” and the chorus begins with: “why does the world as I know it, keep on bringing me down?”
This past weekend, and even up to today as I’m still not fully recovered, the world (or at least a bread and beans sandwich) definitely brought me down. It not only brought me down. It took me down, kept me down and beat me up while I was down.
Second, the very first line of the song made me smile when I heard it: “It’s a sunny day on the west coast.”
I know they’re talking about the west coast of the United States, probably California because the only other states on the west coast are Washington (where I’m from) and Oregon and trust me, there are very few sunny days in either of those states.
However, I’m currently on a west coast and on Tuesday morning/afternoon it was even sunny for about 30 minutes. Then the clouds came, along with torrential downpours, and the sun went away. But, at least for a little while, I too had a sunny day on the west coast.
Really silly things like this make me feel better. Which is why the next song assured the playlist was going to be a winner.
All of a sudden I heard one of my favorite songs by two of my favorite artists. Lil’ Wayne and the aforementioned Drake collaboration “Right Above It.”
This is why I’m sure my iPod loves me. I listen to this song a lot. Not only does it have a catchy hook and some very smart rhymes by the two hip hoppers, but it’s one of the best songs to listen to if a person ever just needs a pick-me-up or wants to feel a wave of confidence rush over them.
I needed both.
I lip-synched along with Drake and Weezy (as he’s known back home because of his unique voice) until I got to my favorite part of the song, which I sang so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if the people downstairs heard me.
Lying in bed, all tucked in for the night, bobbing my head up and down, and smiling uncontrollably I belted out: “Life is a beach, I’m just playing in the sand.”
It’s probably important to note that this was my favorite part of the song long before I got to Sierra Leone. But, now that I’m here (and have played in the sand several times) it’s definitely one of my go to songs while going to bed, getting ready in the morning or just sitting around my room writing in my journal.
To be incredibly honest, I wasn’t sure how the shuffle could get any better, but it did. Favorites like “Good Life” by OneRepublic and “No Hands” by Waka Flocka Flame helped ease me into a deep sleep. The former talking about how “this has gotta be the good life” which, for the most part, Salone has been. The latter is a good get-pumped song that reminds me of bars and clubs back home.
A few more songs played as my eyelids began to get heavier and heavier. Just when I thought it was about time to shut the iPod off, “Where We Gonna Go From Here” came on.
As the title suggests, the singer (one Mat Kearney) is unsure of where his life is going to go from the current point. If there’s any song I can relate to right now it’s this one. I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, let alone when I get back from Sierra Leone.
I don’t have a plan. I’m terrible at making them, and I feel like they rarely turn out how they’re supposed to. After I return to America as a college graduate I have to try to find a job. Somewhere. I could stay in Seattle, or end up somewhere across the country like New York or Miami. I really don’t know where I’m going to go from here. At all.
To call this song soft rock is an understatement. It’s so calm and soothing it could have single-handedly put me to sleep.
But it didn’t have to.
It had the help of the World’s Greatest IPod. I wonder what it’s got planned for me tonight.
Column No. 18-Sick in Sierra Leone
Sick in Sierra Leone
By David Krueger
The last few days have been pretty tough.
I spent my weekend doing two things: being sick and sleeping.
It turns out something I ate Friday night did not agree with my stomach. And I don’t mean it just had a little disagreement. I mean it fought with my stomach like the Democrats and Republicans back home trying to come up with a solution to the United States debt crisis.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this sick in my entire life. I didn’t sleep much Friday night because I felt so sick and had to run to the bathroom about every 20 minutes. Fortunately, since Friday it seems like all I’ve done is sleep.
On Saturday I spent about 19 hours (about 80 percent of the day!) asleep. On Sunday I was awake a little bit more, but not by much. By Monday I had to get up at 8 a.m. to get ready to go to work, so I was home and asleep by four in the afternoon.
I woke up at eight in the evening to say hello to my friends and see how their days went, and then about two hours later I was asleep again for the night.
The culprit of this sickness is a simple bread and beans sandwich. At least I think that’s what it is. I ate one Friday night and hours later I was in the fetal position on my bed. The weird thing is I’ve eaten at the stand where I purchased the sandwich several times, and never gotten sick.
Well, that streak’s over. It may be awhile before I go back to that particular stand.
Thankfully, I have an incredible group of friends that helped nurse me back to health. Friday night they got me home and tucked into bed and have visited me regularly since to make sure I was still okay (or maybe checking to make sure I was still alive).
For a while, if I stood up for about 15 seconds I became tired and needed to sit down. I’m a lot better off now. I can stand up for a full 10 minutes before I get an overwhelming desire to rest.
Even now I’m still not quite back to 100 percent health wise. I’d say we’re at about 89 percent. I still have a sore throat (which isn’t that surprising because it took a lot of abuse Friday night) which makes eating difficult and not that much fun.
As a result, I’m usually pretty tired and weak. By the time I get home from work all I want to do is sleep. It’s 12:30 p.m. on Tuesday right now as I write this and I’m already eager to take a nap, even though I just woke up four hours ago.
I thought that when I got sick during the first week of my trip that was as bad as it would get. Boy was I wrong. I know that I have to be careful about what I eat and drink and I feel like I have been. I’ve gone to places that have been verified by others as hygienic and healthy. It had all been going so well!
Friday night eliminated my absolute confidence in my stomach’s ability to adapt to the food here. I had been eating and enjoying everything, and began to feel invincible. I think I have a strong stomach so I was apprehensive, but not too worried about adapting to food here.
Perhaps I should have been.
Or maybe I’m just thinking too much about this one incident and letting it affect me too much. Forgive me if that’s the case, but I’ve had a lot of time laying around in bed to think about it.
I thought about a lot of things while lying around. I analyzed the amount of clean socks that I have remaining for the week (approximately enough to get through Wednesday). I finally remembered the pillow I brought from home, which I’m still convinced is why I slept most of Saturday away. Most of all, I tried to remember a time when I wasn’t at war with my stomach.
A weekend in bed also gave me time to catch up with my journal. Looking back over last weekend’s entry, it’s apparent I was not in a good mood while writing. My favorite sentence that I wrote is: “I don’t think I’ve smiled in 24 hours.” That makes me smile now.
The important thing is I got through it. I made it through the woods (taking several long naps along the way) and into the clear…almost.
Then I called my mother.
I told her about how sick I got, and how while I was stuck in bed all weekend I got a little homesick for the first time. I missed being sick in my own, familiar bed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to up and leave Sierra Leone anytime soon, but when you’re unable to hear your music over the gurgling of your stomach, it makes you miss home a little bit.
After I told her that, I swear she sounded a little happy. It took me quite a while to get homesick, and I think my mom was worried it might never happen. Even if it occurred because of illness, I think it was nice for her to hear that I missed home.
My mom then went on Facebook and alerted the world that I had “intestinal issues,” prompting many Facebook messages, e-mails and even a phone call from one of my best friends who’s working in Cambodia through the same program that sent me here to Freetown.
I’ve since assured everyone that I’m okay, and very soon I will be as good as new. I’m back to being hyper-careful about what I eat, and will do my best to make sure I remain healthy and happy during my time in Salone.
Now I think it’s time to take another nap.
By David Krueger
The last few days have been pretty tough.
I spent my weekend doing two things: being sick and sleeping.
It turns out something I ate Friday night did not agree with my stomach. And I don’t mean it just had a little disagreement. I mean it fought with my stomach like the Democrats and Republicans back home trying to come up with a solution to the United States debt crisis.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this sick in my entire life. I didn’t sleep much Friday night because I felt so sick and had to run to the bathroom about every 20 minutes. Fortunately, since Friday it seems like all I’ve done is sleep.
On Saturday I spent about 19 hours (about 80 percent of the day!) asleep. On Sunday I was awake a little bit more, but not by much. By Monday I had to get up at 8 a.m. to get ready to go to work, so I was home and asleep by four in the afternoon.
I woke up at eight in the evening to say hello to my friends and see how their days went, and then about two hours later I was asleep again for the night.
The culprit of this sickness is a simple bread and beans sandwich. At least I think that’s what it is. I ate one Friday night and hours later I was in the fetal position on my bed. The weird thing is I’ve eaten at the stand where I purchased the sandwich several times, and never gotten sick.
Well, that streak’s over. It may be awhile before I go back to that particular stand.
Thankfully, I have an incredible group of friends that helped nurse me back to health. Friday night they got me home and tucked into bed and have visited me regularly since to make sure I was still okay (or maybe checking to make sure I was still alive).
For a while, if I stood up for about 15 seconds I became tired and needed to sit down. I’m a lot better off now. I can stand up for a full 10 minutes before I get an overwhelming desire to rest.
Even now I’m still not quite back to 100 percent health wise. I’d say we’re at about 89 percent. I still have a sore throat (which isn’t that surprising because it took a lot of abuse Friday night) which makes eating difficult and not that much fun.
As a result, I’m usually pretty tired and weak. By the time I get home from work all I want to do is sleep. It’s 12:30 p.m. on Tuesday right now as I write this and I’m already eager to take a nap, even though I just woke up four hours ago.
I thought that when I got sick during the first week of my trip that was as bad as it would get. Boy was I wrong. I know that I have to be careful about what I eat and drink and I feel like I have been. I’ve gone to places that have been verified by others as hygienic and healthy. It had all been going so well!
Friday night eliminated my absolute confidence in my stomach’s ability to adapt to the food here. I had been eating and enjoying everything, and began to feel invincible. I think I have a strong stomach so I was apprehensive, but not too worried about adapting to food here.
Perhaps I should have been.
Or maybe I’m just thinking too much about this one incident and letting it affect me too much. Forgive me if that’s the case, but I’ve had a lot of time laying around in bed to think about it.
I thought about a lot of things while lying around. I analyzed the amount of clean socks that I have remaining for the week (approximately enough to get through Wednesday). I finally remembered the pillow I brought from home, which I’m still convinced is why I slept most of Saturday away. Most of all, I tried to remember a time when I wasn’t at war with my stomach.
A weekend in bed also gave me time to catch up with my journal. Looking back over last weekend’s entry, it’s apparent I was not in a good mood while writing. My favorite sentence that I wrote is: “I don’t think I’ve smiled in 24 hours.” That makes me smile now.
The important thing is I got through it. I made it through the woods (taking several long naps along the way) and into the clear…almost.
Then I called my mother.
I told her about how sick I got, and how while I was stuck in bed all weekend I got a little homesick for the first time. I missed being sick in my own, familiar bed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to up and leave Sierra Leone anytime soon, but when you’re unable to hear your music over the gurgling of your stomach, it makes you miss home a little bit.
After I told her that, I swear she sounded a little happy. It took me quite a while to get homesick, and I think my mom was worried it might never happen. Even if it occurred because of illness, I think it was nice for her to hear that I missed home.
My mom then went on Facebook and alerted the world that I had “intestinal issues,” prompting many Facebook messages, e-mails and even a phone call from one of my best friends who’s working in Cambodia through the same program that sent me here to Freetown.
I’ve since assured everyone that I’m okay, and very soon I will be as good as new. I’m back to being hyper-careful about what I eat, and will do my best to make sure I remain healthy and happy during my time in Salone.
Now I think it’s time to take another nap.
Column No. 17-Fighting Corruption
Fighting corruption
By David Krueger
There are a lot of differences between Americans and Sierra Leoneans. For example, the sport we call football is much different than the sport you call football.
However, I believe there is one thing that we can all agree on: corruption is bad.
A few people might argue against that statement. That’s because they are corrupt. For the rest of us, corruption is seen as what it is, a hindrance to a free flowing democracy.
Every country in the world has rules and laws that everybody is expected to live by, especially government and elected officials. When you are singled out by your fellow citizens and chosen to represent them, it is a huge responsibility that I feel most people don’t take lightly.
Unfortunately, some do.
On Friday I attended the Anti-Corruption Commission’s Second Quarter Update, and heard the fervent Commissioner, Joseph Kamara, speak.
“When we fight corruption, we are passionate about it,” Kamara said.
His actions backed up his words. The Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) recently completed a tour of Sierra Leone where it talked to over 150 chiefs to see how corruption has impacted them. With offices in Bo, Kenema and Kambia, the ACC is hoping to start getting a handle on the problem across the nation.
Kamara blamed corruption for electricity, water and education problems around the country. From what it sounds like, it even haunts him at night.
“I sleep and dream about corruption,” Kamara said. “All the books I’m reading are about corruption.”
That’s the dedication we need from all the leaders.
The ardent Commissioner talked with the media for at least an extra half an hour after his statement on Friday, calmly answering questions and recounting stories that underscore the need for the group he’s in charge of.
It was clear early on in the program, what Kamara needs to be successful: the general public. He pleads with Sierra Leoneans that see something unlawful or unethical to report it. That’s essentially what the ACC is here for.
A culture of corruption will never cease if those that live in it don’t take a stand.
While America has its faults, that’s one thing we’re definitely good at: complaining. If we don’t like the way something is run, we don’t hesitate to express our opinions (sometimes too much so). That’s not to say we don’t have corruption in America. In fact, there’s probably a lot more than I’d like to admit (or even know about).
A common view in the United States is that every politician is “crooked and corrupt.” And they don’t help themselves out with this view. It seems like at least once a month a high-ranking government official is accused of embezzling money or having an affair or texting pictures of himself in his underwear to girls he met on the internet (it happens, I know it’s sad).
I don’t think we have anything like the Anti-Corruption Commission back home. We sure could use one. We do have ethics oversight committees for state and federal government, but there’s still a lot of wiggle room for politicians to get away with a lot.
Which they do. They do everywhere. Committees like the ACC probably aren’t going to stop corruption completely, but they can make a huge difference in the war. They can reduce the number of corrupt officials, and potentially scare other officials from engaging in corrupt behavior. For that reason we may never know the true impact of the ACC.
Nobody likes talking about this. I don’t really like talking about this. I’d rather talk about the awesome Africana shirt I got to wear during the meeting on Friday. But corruption is what’s been on my mind all day. It’s not a fun topic, but it’s one that should be discussed in order for a healthy democracy.
“It makes a lot of people uncomfortable,” Kamara said of corruption.
It’s true. On Friday I was uncomfortable, and not just because I was sitting in the same hard, plastic chair for two hours. It’s an unnerving (and downright scary) thought to think about corrupt officials, and how they seem to disregard the rules they expect all of us to follow with ease.
But stealing from a country and its citizens is still stealing. It’s against the law, and is even one of the Ten Commandments. In order for Salone to continue to grow as a country, the corruption needs to be reduced drastically.
For the first month I’ve been here that’s been a dominant theme in the newspapers I’ve read, and a well-discussed topic around the office and on the streets. People realize this can’t go on, and that changes need to be made. They’re aware it’s a huge problem.
And now they know it’s even keeping people, like Mr. Kamara, awake at night.
By David Krueger
There are a lot of differences between Americans and Sierra Leoneans. For example, the sport we call football is much different than the sport you call football.
However, I believe there is one thing that we can all agree on: corruption is bad.
A few people might argue against that statement. That’s because they are corrupt. For the rest of us, corruption is seen as what it is, a hindrance to a free flowing democracy.
Every country in the world has rules and laws that everybody is expected to live by, especially government and elected officials. When you are singled out by your fellow citizens and chosen to represent them, it is a huge responsibility that I feel most people don’t take lightly.
Unfortunately, some do.
On Friday I attended the Anti-Corruption Commission’s Second Quarter Update, and heard the fervent Commissioner, Joseph Kamara, speak.
“When we fight corruption, we are passionate about it,” Kamara said.
His actions backed up his words. The Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) recently completed a tour of Sierra Leone where it talked to over 150 chiefs to see how corruption has impacted them. With offices in Bo, Kenema and Kambia, the ACC is hoping to start getting a handle on the problem across the nation.
Kamara blamed corruption for electricity, water and education problems around the country. From what it sounds like, it even haunts him at night.
“I sleep and dream about corruption,” Kamara said. “All the books I’m reading are about corruption.”
That’s the dedication we need from all the leaders.
The ardent Commissioner talked with the media for at least an extra half an hour after his statement on Friday, calmly answering questions and recounting stories that underscore the need for the group he’s in charge of.
It was clear early on in the program, what Kamara needs to be successful: the general public. He pleads with Sierra Leoneans that see something unlawful or unethical to report it. That’s essentially what the ACC is here for.
A culture of corruption will never cease if those that live in it don’t take a stand.
While America has its faults, that’s one thing we’re definitely good at: complaining. If we don’t like the way something is run, we don’t hesitate to express our opinions (sometimes too much so). That’s not to say we don’t have corruption in America. In fact, there’s probably a lot more than I’d like to admit (or even know about).
A common view in the United States is that every politician is “crooked and corrupt.” And they don’t help themselves out with this view. It seems like at least once a month a high-ranking government official is accused of embezzling money or having an affair or texting pictures of himself in his underwear to girls he met on the internet (it happens, I know it’s sad).
I don’t think we have anything like the Anti-Corruption Commission back home. We sure could use one. We do have ethics oversight committees for state and federal government, but there’s still a lot of wiggle room for politicians to get away with a lot.
Which they do. They do everywhere. Committees like the ACC probably aren’t going to stop corruption completely, but they can make a huge difference in the war. They can reduce the number of corrupt officials, and potentially scare other officials from engaging in corrupt behavior. For that reason we may never know the true impact of the ACC.
Nobody likes talking about this. I don’t really like talking about this. I’d rather talk about the awesome Africana shirt I got to wear during the meeting on Friday. But corruption is what’s been on my mind all day. It’s not a fun topic, but it’s one that should be discussed in order for a healthy democracy.
“It makes a lot of people uncomfortable,” Kamara said of corruption.
It’s true. On Friday I was uncomfortable, and not just because I was sitting in the same hard, plastic chair for two hours. It’s an unnerving (and downright scary) thought to think about corrupt officials, and how they seem to disregard the rules they expect all of us to follow with ease.
But stealing from a country and its citizens is still stealing. It’s against the law, and is even one of the Ten Commandments. In order for Salone to continue to grow as a country, the corruption needs to be reduced drastically.
For the first month I’ve been here that’s been a dominant theme in the newspapers I’ve read, and a well-discussed topic around the office and on the streets. People realize this can’t go on, and that changes need to be made. They’re aware it’s a huge problem.
And now they know it’s even keeping people, like Mr. Kamara, awake at night.
Column No. 16-Bargaining my way through Sierra Leone
Bargaining my way through Sierra Leone
By David Krueger
Let’s make a deal.
The popular American phrase seems to be much more appropriate here in Sierra Leone. While bargaining is not out of the question in the United States, it is the way of life here, and it takes some getting used to.
There are some goods with a fixed price. The bread and cheese for instance that I buy around lunchtime costs the exact same amount of Leones every day. However, many more goods and services have prices that fluctuate.
Thankfully, I have friends at work that go around with me whenever I go to purchase something. They’ve expressed concern that I will get ripped off because I’m a foreigner, and vendors will (incorrectly) assume I have a lot of money.
My friends are expert negotiators. It’s fun to watch the brokering back and forth. From what I’ve witnessed and gathered talking to my friends, here’s how the exchange occurs.
The customer arrives at the stand and looks over the merchandise. If he or she so much as touches anything, the negotiation begins, even if they had no intention of it occurring so quickly. The seller begins with a fairly high price, hoping that maybe the person either doesn’t know how to negotiate or is in too big of a hurry to have time.
Quickly, the buyer refutes that price, and offers one of its own. This is where the first problem for me occurs.
I don’t know how much most goods cost. I’m pretty sure a single mango shouldn’t cost Le10,000, but I’m also pretty sure it costs more than Le1,000. Somewhere in between lies the correct cost of the mango, and I’m a little embarrassed to say I don’t know it yet.
Other things that I buy for the first time, such as my beautiful Sierra Leone football jersey, really have me lost. Fortunately, friends can help. Then, when I go to buy other items, like an authentic African shirt to wear to work today, I feel more confident in my ability to talk to the shopkeepers. Plus, I like to think wearing the local football jersey helps lower the prices.
So, the shopper lays down his or her offer, and the store owner, realizing that this is not the customer’s first time dealing with this particular situation, lowers the price a little bit. If the consumer is happy, the exchange is complete. Although, usually it lasts a little bit longer as the two sides discuss back and forth trying to land somewhere in the middle.
This is where the second problem comes in. I don’t speak Krio. I’m trying very hard (you’ll see in a future column), and I can say “ohmohs” to inquire about the cost of something, but I don’t yet know the Krio for “I’m sorry, that seems very expensive. Is there any way we can lower the price a little bit?”
Finally, a price is agreed upon and money is exchanged. In my experience, the final cost is usually closer to the buyer’s initial goal than the seller’s. But not always. Sometimes they have a price they’re not willing to go below, and you just have to walk away, which, it turns out, is another useful bargaining tool.
As the would-be purchaser begins to turn, the vendor sees a sale walking away with it. The price mysteriously takes a drastic tumble, and a deal is completed.
Back home when you go buy something it has a price tag attached to it. You don’t even have to ask how much something costs. I’m not sure which is better or worse, but personally I like bargaining (or at least I will when I take care of those two glaring issues). There’s a feeling after a successful accord is made that I think is great for everybody.
One person walks away with something they didn’t have before, at a price at or near what they were willing to pay for it. They feel a sense of accomplishment because they were able to talk the retailer down.
On the flip side, the seller is still satisfied because they made a sale, and probably sold the good near what they were actually hoping to get for the product. They make money, and build a relationship with the consumer so that they may come back again the next time they need to make another purchase.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable negotiating a price, I just don’t know how to do it. Those two major problems prevent me from feeling confident in my ability to bargain. The longer I stay here, the more I’ll learn about prices, and the better I’ll feel about discussing those prices at local stands.
Despite the unease, I’ve still been able to haggle for everything from pants to a room to sleep in. Just imagine the bargaining power I’ll have by the end of my trip!
It’s an interesting system. It’s different from what I’m used to, but I like how it works. I’m not an economist, so I don’t know if this is good or bad. However, I do know that it’s the way my life is going to be for the next two months, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
By David Krueger
Let’s make a deal.
The popular American phrase seems to be much more appropriate here in Sierra Leone. While bargaining is not out of the question in the United States, it is the way of life here, and it takes some getting used to.
There are some goods with a fixed price. The bread and cheese for instance that I buy around lunchtime costs the exact same amount of Leones every day. However, many more goods and services have prices that fluctuate.
Thankfully, I have friends at work that go around with me whenever I go to purchase something. They’ve expressed concern that I will get ripped off because I’m a foreigner, and vendors will (incorrectly) assume I have a lot of money.
My friends are expert negotiators. It’s fun to watch the brokering back and forth. From what I’ve witnessed and gathered talking to my friends, here’s how the exchange occurs.
The customer arrives at the stand and looks over the merchandise. If he or she so much as touches anything, the negotiation begins, even if they had no intention of it occurring so quickly. The seller begins with a fairly high price, hoping that maybe the person either doesn’t know how to negotiate or is in too big of a hurry to have time.
Quickly, the buyer refutes that price, and offers one of its own. This is where the first problem for me occurs.
I don’t know how much most goods cost. I’m pretty sure a single mango shouldn’t cost Le10,000, but I’m also pretty sure it costs more than Le1,000. Somewhere in between lies the correct cost of the mango, and I’m a little embarrassed to say I don’t know it yet.
Other things that I buy for the first time, such as my beautiful Sierra Leone football jersey, really have me lost. Fortunately, friends can help. Then, when I go to buy other items, like an authentic African shirt to wear to work today, I feel more confident in my ability to talk to the shopkeepers. Plus, I like to think wearing the local football jersey helps lower the prices.
So, the shopper lays down his or her offer, and the store owner, realizing that this is not the customer’s first time dealing with this particular situation, lowers the price a little bit. If the consumer is happy, the exchange is complete. Although, usually it lasts a little bit longer as the two sides discuss back and forth trying to land somewhere in the middle.
This is where the second problem comes in. I don’t speak Krio. I’m trying very hard (you’ll see in a future column), and I can say “ohmohs” to inquire about the cost of something, but I don’t yet know the Krio for “I’m sorry, that seems very expensive. Is there any way we can lower the price a little bit?”
Finally, a price is agreed upon and money is exchanged. In my experience, the final cost is usually closer to the buyer’s initial goal than the seller’s. But not always. Sometimes they have a price they’re not willing to go below, and you just have to walk away, which, it turns out, is another useful bargaining tool.
As the would-be purchaser begins to turn, the vendor sees a sale walking away with it. The price mysteriously takes a drastic tumble, and a deal is completed.
Back home when you go buy something it has a price tag attached to it. You don’t even have to ask how much something costs. I’m not sure which is better or worse, but personally I like bargaining (or at least I will when I take care of those two glaring issues). There’s a feeling after a successful accord is made that I think is great for everybody.
One person walks away with something they didn’t have before, at a price at or near what they were willing to pay for it. They feel a sense of accomplishment because they were able to talk the retailer down.
On the flip side, the seller is still satisfied because they made a sale, and probably sold the good near what they were actually hoping to get for the product. They make money, and build a relationship with the consumer so that they may come back again the next time they need to make another purchase.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable negotiating a price, I just don’t know how to do it. Those two major problems prevent me from feeling confident in my ability to bargain. The longer I stay here, the more I’ll learn about prices, and the better I’ll feel about discussing those prices at local stands.
Despite the unease, I’ve still been able to haggle for everything from pants to a room to sleep in. Just imagine the bargaining power I’ll have by the end of my trip!
It’s an interesting system. It’s different from what I’m used to, but I like how it works. I’m not an economist, so I don’t know if this is good or bad. However, I do know that it’s the way my life is going to be for the next two months, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Column No. 15-Getting Recognized
Getting recognized
By David Krueger
One of the coolest parts about being in Sierra Leone is that I’ve gotten to the point where when I walk around Freetown people are starting to recognize me as “Dave” from Awoko Newspaper.
It’s pretty cool.
Personally, there’s no bigger honor for me as a journalist than somebody coming up to me to say they read and enjoyed something I wrote. That’s why I write. For all you guys.
I do a lot of writing while I’m here. I have columns and stories for Awoko which are the main reasons I’m here. Along with that I have a blog for my school, friends and family to look at to see what I’m doing in Salone.
I love reading and hearing comments on both of those to see what people think, even if they disagree. I realize that not everybody will always agree with me, or see the world the same way I do. That’s fine. It doesn’t mean either one of us is wrong (although, it is very possible I could be), and more often than not it’s the basis for a great discussion.
It’s probably important to note that I don’t just write for other people, although I love doing that and it’s what I want to do for a living. I also have a journal, where I get to write just for myself. I think it’s important to do this even in everyday life. It’s nice to write down your experiences and get certain things off your chest.
Plus, it allows me to think and reflect about experiences like the break-in last week, and use some choice language that isn’t exactly newspaper appropriate.
The first time I was recognized actually came in Kambia. While I was eating dinner at Kambia Africana Village, an Irish woman named Audrey came up and introduced herself to me. After I said my name and that I’m staying in Freetown, she asked if I happened to have a column in a newspaper there.
I smiled and shook my head. She informed me that she had just read my column that morning and was entertained by it. It was one of the happiest moments for me in Sierra Leone.
Audrey if you’re still reading, thank you!
Later that night two others at the guesthouse mentioned they had read about the time I went out to Atlantic Crossing and Aces and I finally felt like I belonged in Africa, which I wasn’t sure I ever would.
See, I kind of stick out while walking down the street. There are a few key attributes that separate me from the locals. I don’t speak Krio (yet). I usually forget my umbrella when it rains. And my skin is quite a bit lighter than most.
However, when I can talk to people about something that happened here, and share my side of an event, I feel a little bit like I belong. The conversations usually end with a “well, that’s Africa” or “only in Sierra Leone,” but I still have a better understanding of the country where I’ll reside until September 22nd.
I’m far from having life figured out here, but I’ll continue to work at it through these columns and talking to people.
Another cool occurrence was at a meeting for Canon that was held at the TAIA Resort last week. I was eager to meet the Ambassador to the United States, Michael Owen, and was eventually introduced. It turns out he’s been known to read my columns too, and knew all about my trip to Kambia.
It was incredibly exciting to know that someone I admire actually takes the time to read what I write and enjoys what I have to say.
Mr. Ambassador if you’re still reading, thank you!
Before this column is done, and everybody reading thinks “wow, Dave’s getting really cocky,” I want to personally guarantee that will never be the case. I tend to believe in balance. For every person who likes and agrees with what I write, there’s probably another who thinks I’m wrong.
I don’t write because I want to be famous and known all over (although I’m starting to think that would be kind of cool if it happened). Actually, I got in to journalism because I wanted to make a difference in the world.
I didn’t think I’d make it through law school, so journalism seemed like the next best way to go. I want to help people, by telling stories and raising awareness of issues that people might not normally know about.
In Sierra Leone I want to connect with the people and culture. These columns are about my moments in Salone, and what it’s like to be an American welcomed onto another continent. I get to talk all about what I think and how I feel, and, in return, I love to hear about what others think and how they feel.
From the workers at the Total fueling station by the Awoko office, to visitors who talk to me at the YMCA, it’s been a pleasure talking with each and every person I’ve met in Sierra Leone, and I look forward to two more months of meeting great people.
By David Krueger
One of the coolest parts about being in Sierra Leone is that I’ve gotten to the point where when I walk around Freetown people are starting to recognize me as “Dave” from Awoko Newspaper.
It’s pretty cool.
Personally, there’s no bigger honor for me as a journalist than somebody coming up to me to say they read and enjoyed something I wrote. That’s why I write. For all you guys.
I do a lot of writing while I’m here. I have columns and stories for Awoko which are the main reasons I’m here. Along with that I have a blog for my school, friends and family to look at to see what I’m doing in Salone.
I love reading and hearing comments on both of those to see what people think, even if they disagree. I realize that not everybody will always agree with me, or see the world the same way I do. That’s fine. It doesn’t mean either one of us is wrong (although, it is very possible I could be), and more often than not it’s the basis for a great discussion.
It’s probably important to note that I don’t just write for other people, although I love doing that and it’s what I want to do for a living. I also have a journal, where I get to write just for myself. I think it’s important to do this even in everyday life. It’s nice to write down your experiences and get certain things off your chest.
Plus, it allows me to think and reflect about experiences like the break-in last week, and use some choice language that isn’t exactly newspaper appropriate.
The first time I was recognized actually came in Kambia. While I was eating dinner at Kambia Africana Village, an Irish woman named Audrey came up and introduced herself to me. After I said my name and that I’m staying in Freetown, she asked if I happened to have a column in a newspaper there.
I smiled and shook my head. She informed me that she had just read my column that morning and was entertained by it. It was one of the happiest moments for me in Sierra Leone.
Audrey if you’re still reading, thank you!
Later that night two others at the guesthouse mentioned they had read about the time I went out to Atlantic Crossing and Aces and I finally felt like I belonged in Africa, which I wasn’t sure I ever would.
See, I kind of stick out while walking down the street. There are a few key attributes that separate me from the locals. I don’t speak Krio (yet). I usually forget my umbrella when it rains. And my skin is quite a bit lighter than most.
However, when I can talk to people about something that happened here, and share my side of an event, I feel a little bit like I belong. The conversations usually end with a “well, that’s Africa” or “only in Sierra Leone,” but I still have a better understanding of the country where I’ll reside until September 22nd.
I’m far from having life figured out here, but I’ll continue to work at it through these columns and talking to people.
Another cool occurrence was at a meeting for Canon that was held at the TAIA Resort last week. I was eager to meet the Ambassador to the United States, Michael Owen, and was eventually introduced. It turns out he’s been known to read my columns too, and knew all about my trip to Kambia.
It was incredibly exciting to know that someone I admire actually takes the time to read what I write and enjoys what I have to say.
Mr. Ambassador if you’re still reading, thank you!
Before this column is done, and everybody reading thinks “wow, Dave’s getting really cocky,” I want to personally guarantee that will never be the case. I tend to believe in balance. For every person who likes and agrees with what I write, there’s probably another who thinks I’m wrong.
I don’t write because I want to be famous and known all over (although I’m starting to think that would be kind of cool if it happened). Actually, I got in to journalism because I wanted to make a difference in the world.
I didn’t think I’d make it through law school, so journalism seemed like the next best way to go. I want to help people, by telling stories and raising awareness of issues that people might not normally know about.
In Sierra Leone I want to connect with the people and culture. These columns are about my moments in Salone, and what it’s like to be an American welcomed onto another continent. I get to talk all about what I think and how I feel, and, in return, I love to hear about what others think and how they feel.
From the workers at the Total fueling station by the Awoko office, to visitors who talk to me at the YMCA, it’s been a pleasure talking with each and every person I’ve met in Sierra Leone, and I look forward to two more months of meeting great people.
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