Sierra Leone... Life after Ebola

Back to Sierra Leone early January!

What a change, how lively it is, the country is back swagging, people go out, beaches and bars are full, what a change from last year, the contrast is enormous, highlighting both the resilience of the people from Salone and the admirable way they changed their habits and life, to respond to the worst Ebola outbreak. 

I have so much respect for them, now we are drinking, we are dancing and playing ball on the beach, that's the way we roll! 

  

People are back in the streets, gazillions of them, and I could spend some time in the markets and slums of Freetown. Informal settlements during the week and touristy spots on the WE.

One of the pleasure of spending time in slums is that they are full of contrasts. The first impressions are mostly filled with the litter, the smells of fire, sewage, food, noise and durtiness. Then you start paying attention to life, to the kids, the multiple businesses, the youths putting up a party spot, the others playing ball, and you come to the realization that the metal city is breathing and moving. Then beauty comes out. Beauty is shy. It comes in the way rooms are taken care of, the paintings on the walls, the people you meet or, in this specific case, in the work of craftsmen. Facing the sea is the shipyard, and a boat was being finished. I don't know what resonated so much in me. Was it the colours, the size or the story behind the boat? The ship builder told me that it was commissionned to navigate between Conakry and Freetown, transporting up to 25 people, with their merchandises. It was due to be lauched early february. It should be on the ocean now. The boats tell stories of the fishermen, of mobility and the relations people build between regions. The boats and the zinc houses are full of dreams, energy and aspirations. Walking in dirt with heads full of dreams. 

 

Thanks guys for taking me out to the Whatsapp -and filling a USB with local tunes. A cool venue to dance on nigerian, ghanean, Salone beats, azondo, dancehall, ndombolo and others! So nice to go out! So much more simple than in zim. You don't feel like an intruder, you're a guest and it feels good.

Quincy (previousely known as Paddy's) is another night spot, a bar, dancefloor and pool tables on the beach. I went there because I couldn't not go out. It's Freetown and Ebola is over. You have to dance for life. I was thinking I'ld find people in that popular venue but no-one I knew was there. There was a police-force function, with distribution of certificates and prizes, then the music kicked in.
When I'm alone I sketch. As a man alone in a bar, I draw attention, and the solitude is quickly broken by friendly ladies of the night. I find that drawing enables to switch the conversation, to discuss about something else than love, businness and attraction. We then get to chat about what I am doing, I get to do their portrait and chat about our lives, the children, the jobs, dreams of success and a good life. I like to hear stories of people. I think that in a sense that is what I do. Last year a young girl in india asked me what I was doing. I was visiting her school, in a brick kiln. the workplace of her family. It is difficult for me to explain my job to children, so I said that I am hearing stories from people all over the world and I can share them. In a way I am a storyteller. I am collecting hundreds of stories,  snippets of life from people who have/ are facing hardship and from those who live with empathy and compassion. I collect stories of violence and love, poverty and dreams, neglect and care.
And I see with so much clarity the similarity in the human experience, regardless of colour, gender, religion, group of belonging, environment... humans are designed to love, to help each others, to cooperate and to show compassion. Whatever the situation, be there war, natural disaster, violence... there will always be people who will care and help, regardless of the danger, regardless of themselves.
I met last week a beautiful women, she is working for the catholic church in a war zone, helping to provide health facilities to over half a million people. Under the bombs. On one side you have people trying hard to destroy, on the other you have others that keep on building and caring regardless. They win. She told me that she spoke to the bishop about the extreme situation she is working in, and yet that feeling of being alive, happy and so looking forward to go back in the field. Under the bombs, living surrounded by violence. The bishop said that it was like being in Love. Love make people do crazy things, forgetting themselves and yet feeling in complete harmony and peace.
     

My daughter can share images from her head, she can put thoughts in other people's heads and dreams. She is 5, she is right, she shares good thoughts. I should do that more often.Kids know things adults have forgotten.

I am back

Well, a month without sketching, going through a scanning adventure and uploading went by, and funny enough, the world has not stopped, not even slowed its rotation. How disappointing.  Not very good at all for my ego.

So lacking new material I’ll just put some outdated stuff, sketched last month. I’ll try to put some stories behind them though.

   

First, a view of Harare, from the 7^th floor at Eastgate Mall, where I went for some meetings in REPSSI’s offices, meetings for my other life, working in child protection. 

I think that the road depicted is 2d Street, heading towards the train station, I am very bad with names, it could also be Takawira, Chitepo or R.Mugabe. All heroes (but Second street). One should know them, I shall not detail the deeds and wonders they brought the world, Wikipedia is a very usefull tool for those who want to learn something in that respect. 

Truth is that -apart from street names-, Harare centre show nice pieces of architecture, from early 20^th, art deco small shops and buildings, Victorian style and colonial English, the type one can recognize in places where the british empire created cities. I should really try to find or set  a group of urban sketchers to roam the city centre and share its interests with the global world.

Another great thing about Harare, is that the place enable us to meet and discuss with members of the force. Not the laser-sabre ones, unfortunately, but the constables. Always ready to share their points of views, discuss eventual disagreements and test one’s knowledge of the law. I still feel that they should handle diplomas of good behavior and incorruptibility, once you are stopped by a constable for something you did not do, try to be fined a fine that is not existing and ask to pay it outside what is set by the law. I have a dream of discussing my case for 3 hours on the side of the road, being send to the cop shop to continue the debate and then, after a day spend over a 20 usd fine that should not be, to have the lady in Kalashnikov smile and say: “Well done Fred, you are really worth living here, for not taking bullshit, for not allowing quick bribes, for not being intimidated by the uniform or the nozzle of the AK, and in all cironstances to remain straight, righteous and honest. Please, here is a honorific diploma with the warm embraces of Zim Road Police Force”. She would then stamp the certificate, kiss me on the cheeks whilst hugging me (I will then understand the use of the AK, to keep a safe barrier between the agent and me, in case the sudden change of mood makes the embrace uncomfortable). I guess that such certificate could also be taped on the front window, under the insurance, the radio tax paper and the road tax one, and could serve as a waiver for every other police stops, let’s say for a year. It is utterly difficult sometime to explain to my kids the good cop /bad cop imbroglio. One day I have to tell them that mom is at the cop shop to put a police officer to prison, one other day we need the help of the police because they are here to help the common folks against thiefs and bad men. Then again, at least around here there is always room to discuss, whether you are guilty or not, and the encounters with the 3d kind make great bar stories.

In the meanwhile in Mozambique other uniformed lads from the opposition party understood that the system is a bit unfair to any discording voices and decided to take up the weapons once again, after years of peace and stability. Armed groups cut the north-south road, train lines etc. Worse still, they RPG two trucks from Cerveja de Moçambique, killing two. So travelling by road got more spicy: there is an added chance of getting bullets and a lesser chance finding a cold beer to quench the adrenaline rush.

Anyway. Life is good.  

 The sketch above is from the beach in Beira, behind a hotel complex made in China, the Golden Peacock Resort, the canon is probably russian, and as any military/offical/administrative building, taking a picture of it can lead to prison (cfr Lianne's story ), but I don't really know if  drawing something one cannot picture also constitute a crime. I really should ask my lawyer here about it. Anyway, a couple beers, a pack of friends, big guns and the beach, a nice way to spend a sunday afternoon.

 

 Above, a house I wanted to sketch for a while for it is always in the way. On one of the posts with the sketches from mozambique of 2012, I've drawn the bombeiros,. Well, this place is not too far.
The next view, neither. From the fire-man-house go straight towards the house sketched above, and continue, one should reach the Praca do Sun Light (a very popular chinese entertainment place with a jumping castle for kids, hot dogs, burgers and beers) from where this sketch has been made.

I had to meet up with two guys who came back from France doing a juggling technique taining. I was late, they were later, so i sketched the shoe and bras sellers on the other side of the road. Sitting on a plastic bench, at Sunlight. A half a dozen beers later and to resume the conversation, they are looking for some contracts or sponsors for their show. And they are bloody good (Vinos and Cokas and Co).

That is it for now. Cheers.

Posts from Maputo and Beira

Beira Marginal, its own version of the Promenade des Anglais, the mighty Marina.

The sketch below was made quite early during the evening, before the sun sets, which is why it is so empty. After dark, and until midnight, the beach road gets packed: ladies selling beer and refrescos from their cooler boxes, car parked with youngsters sipping booze and flirting, a 2 way traffic jam of cars, windows open, each one trying to cover the music from the other cars. For the people who are standing and enjoying their drinks on the side of the road, the car festival can only be compared to a  one year old discovering the radio, having found the sound button (up up up) and now pressing the channel button with great joy. Car with blue neon under the chassis plays full blast Passada, Deu me Amor pink honda spitting south african techno, '95 mazda pick up with 10 teenagers in the back blasting Shakira, Oh a quite corolla, then an Angolan-dance-boombox on wheels, a toyota hilux proving that Bon Jovi is also popular here, boum boum boum tchakalaka boum boum boum, Crash! (that is Bon Jovi kissing the arse of Shakira, failing to recognize her hidden break lights)- The traffic stops, Castel-Light-loaded drivers jumps out, eager to kill each other, then finding that they are, in fact, cousins and should continue their ride and let their dads sort the damages later...

People drinking, people watching, people driving, people getting deaf, and some working too, the cooler-box sellers, the cigarette and chewing gum vendors, the kids watching after cars, the portuguese Sporting-Fan selling his hot dogs, the chinese take-away guy busy cooking his  Mozambican dishes /Cantonese style, the tchopela (tuk-tuk) drivers offloading some sailors,... on a big night half Beira meet up on the 100 meters between the hot dog stand and the Mira Mar bar. It is busy. 

Small sketch done in Maputo. On Ave Lumumba there is a small old house, escondida between two blunt styled concrete towers (the type that inspired generations of architects building low-income-tower and making sure people living there feel as bad as possible). There are still such surprises in Maputo, where in the middle of eye-sores one will see some type of wonders that make it interesting, and gives its charm. This old house is one of those. Could pass 10.000 times in the street without noticing it, then one day, you are brought there. It is nice. As well they are doing food, prato do dia, no gourmet dishes but good food.
That is a great thing about Mozambique, and the west Africa I had the pleasure to know, is that there are hundreds of small hidden places to eat and drink out. A lot of chicken chopped, millions of potatoes slaughtered and fried, fish scaled, and salad dug. I do hope it can stay that way for a bit more time.
Oh and in that small old house, they also had WiFi. The house is falling down, but does it in style:  connected to the world. Now that is cool.

  

And last one from Maputo was done in Mundo's, a thatched place with international food and pizzas. It used to be full of south africans, now its a bit more mixed, still a lot of foreigners. When I draw I seem to be able to listen better. So during the hour at Mundos, I had the pleasure to hear two frenchmen talking NGO stuff and their relations with the ministery of health, an American lady pushing a Spanish guy in sharing his sex life stories with her (and detailing hers in the same time), a group of noisy Portuguese getting upset with the waiter, an English family laughing together, a women missionary reading her kindle, a mozambican  couple sharing their silence, a table full of businessman getting pinted after a sealed deal, and me in the middle

And then I uploaded.

 Finally, I did it! Estoril beach.
Well, I do think that 4 weeks to upload and post a sketch is not that bad after all. I have to recognize the efficiency of the network in Maputo, where I am now, and accept that networks here somehow treat the internet fairy better than in Beira or Harare.
So as posted before, this is the view from Estoril beach, in a bar/chicken restaurant next to the lighthouse. This spot was quite a touristic place before the independence and the war that came after. My parents in law actually came camping here on their honey moon, and i've met some white-haired who, a tear in their eyes, remembering some beach adventures of their youth, are asking how is the hotel don Carlos, Hotel Estoril, their beach bar, camping ground and bandas.
So I tell them that the hotel is full of permanent resident and the beach get busy on the WE. I do fail to mention the BigBoy song contests, and the absence of anything else than the concrete skeletons of their past paradise. It might get back to become a groovy spot one day. All depends of one's understanding of the groove.
It is still a nice place to passear, to have chicken and a beer on a lazy sunday afternoon, watching the commotion of people passing by.

A glimpse of the 929 bar, waiting for a burger of some sort. That bar was amongst the few ones that was screening the world cup outside a couple of years ago. The day Ghana lost and got send out was to be remembered, the atmosphere was electric, beer pouring, and every soul in the place left with a deep sense of frustration. I don't even know if anyone bother to pay their bill on the way out. hmm. 

Now, the screen is showing the latest Micasa or Beyonce video, some game of football and the bar has since been painted, renovated and if it is not a posh place, it is definitively not the derelict sand pit it use to be.

Triathlete are tough.
Mozambican style triathletes are beasts.
the cycling part with 100kg attached on a chinese made bike, for 40 km on soft sand roads is just to select the truly motivated guys. Never seen a women competing, probably because the are busy plowing the land, feeding the family, fixing the house and getting cash for school fees. hm. So the cycling is not for chicks.
Then there is the dugout challenge. Days on the ocean, in a flat- bottomed canoe, with a paddle. Sounds easy. The canoe is damn heavy, the paddle is tied up with an electric cable and the water is pouring inside by the holes. And you are supposed to fish. haha. Those fishermen are mega beasts. they are standing in the boat, facing the waves, and speeding up in the direction of the ocean. I tried something similar, sitting down in my super light sea kayak, with profiled paddles, and could not catch up with them. It was actually quite a challenge just to stay in the kayak.
Then again I am neither a sportsman nor a boat freak and my handicap should not serve as a comparison.
Then, third and worst of all, is the 20 meters ATM challenge, the only one really open to women. It can take a day. Queue jumping is hazardous. Some of the ATM competition prove very popular, the best one is held the week before Christmas, and minor ones at the end of each months. Cities will come to a standstill, businesses are made in the lines, people are socializing, and the reward is sometime worth it, if the machine does not run dry, if there is cash on the account and if your card dos not get eaten because you failed to remember the code, or decipher properly the code your brother wrote down     
The winner is Zed, a 25 mtn (0,7usd) headache muti, made and bottled by an ethanol plant that went in partnership with a factory that makes artificial gin and pineapple flavour. If you happen not to enjoy fake pineapple flavour, they also have a great choice of coloured spirits, with obscure reference to whiskys, gins, rhums and vodka, and absolutely amazing names such as Tentaçao, Choice, tipo tinto, Knock Out, El Salvador etc. They are so good that a friend, Spike, keeps on asking for me to bring him samples and refills. Although there is definitively a market for plastic booze in zim, I am not to sure i want to start to bring these as a business, the promotion, tasting and socializing after a bottle might just be too much for me. I'll leave it to Spike and will make sure I never ring him before 4 pm.

 On my way to Harare, 2 hours from Beira is Inchope, with kids selling coke and cashew nuts.  Half invading the car. Good thing is that the nuts are really good and the coke is really cold, which is a must for the rest of the trip. Coming from Beira it is the reward for being alive and having done the worst of the journey. Getting there it feels like our last meal before 160km of potholes, rocks, gazillion of trucks and greatly qualified drivers.
Some say the Top Gear crew came to see if they could make a show and challenge on that road and decided it was just too difficult so left.
Other say the US army has a secret program there, testing the strength of all their newest all-terrain vehicles, including the Moon Walker and Mars Rider. But people are also talking a lot of shit nowadays. The one true thing is that whether you crossed or have crossed the beira-inchope strip, a coke and nuts are a must.

Baby Elena,
she was 4 month when i did the sketch of her on the bed, now she is 5 and just had her first tooth. She is so chilled and sweet. Love her so much.

 

these are not dragons, nor okapis, nor rhinos. these are not endangered species, but these are really cool and should deserve a Love the Lizard campaign. They have bright electric blue tails, not like their cousins in west africa, bragging with their red and yellow tails. 

These lizards are flash. 

Birds and predators must think that eating one of them should be like swallowing a wiggly neon light on speed. Not something you are looking for, even if you're a reptile-eating bird. 

My kids have done an interesting experience with the lizards. they scientifically tested and came to the conclusion that these reptiles love fanta-grape better than a cola, and show interesting levels of running around and energy after having had a sip of the beverage. Males will defend fiercely their source of the fizzy drink, even accepting loosing their females who will be promptly victims of abrupt courtship from outsiders. Ethology from the perspective of a 6 years old is gripping and super interesting. 

 

Day on the beach

So, Sunday I spend some time - waiting for a piri-piri chicken to be caught, feathered, gutted, spiced, grilled and served- on a nice terrasse from an old falling-down house on the beach at Estoril. 

I made a sketch of the morning view which I managed to scan (it took me 2 weeks to get a scanner to work, get connected to my computer and find some time to scan the sketchbook), and it is quite nice as well, with the rusted skeleton of the Macuti boat, the lighthouse etc. 

BUT, and there is always something similar happening here, the TDM connection I have is just too slow and weak to upload anything bigger than 600ko. So I'll post it later, after going to vodacom, charge my internet account etc. as the saying goes here... amanha!

So, I had some time on the beach-I-cannot-share-the-sketch-of, catching on people passing by, listening to the melodious high powered speakers next door, with the latest passada tune, and the fabulous comments of a beach volley-ball game ("Agrrrrradecemos a Municipalidade da Beirrrrra e a Assssssssociaçao prrrrrovincial de Volleyball pelo evento, Agorrrra a equipe feminina da Universidade Pedagogica vai jogar contra a equipa masculina das forrrrrrrrças arrrrrrrrmadas, Agrrrrrrrrrradecemos a Municipalidade da Beira ...."). 

To be honest, when I realized that there was a stage and humongus speakers being connected with 13 fifty meter extensions to the fridge of the restaurant where I was intending to eat, I did fear another OMO, coca-cola or dishwashing liquid promotion. Those are particularly bad because generally there is an attempt to have some type of play-back / talent show or dance contest and the music-man puts the sound so high that the speakers actually crash all together. It is otherwise known as a musical suicide. 

So I was rather happy about the volley ball event, the passada etc. 

I got my chicken after 2 hours, wich was exactly what the guy told me when I asked, he said an hour for the chicken (+ an hour for the fries, the sum is right).

 

Sr Nhamazinga was having a sunday-beer, he saw this profile and was actually happy about it. So he signed the page. Good one.

just people passing by.


Rodson saw the sketch of Sr Nhamazinga and asked me to sketch him smiling and with his manica. He gave me 3 seconds of smile before freezing in a neutral tone. I do think that what he really wanted was to get me to draw the 2 women that were with him. I was keen to do so but they did not want.
It's just fun to meet all sort of people.
There also was a Spanish guy who watched the beach pic, then he must have taken 100 pictures of me sketching. I draw, others picture, fair enough.