We're back in Freetown, after a fabulous week in Makeni that began with the classic Bad Africa Day.
We were moving out of the guest house I'd been staying in, which meant that I needed to remove all of my things, including the money belt I had deposited with the house office manager and report researcher and guy who'd generally been taking care of my personal needs since my arrival on the scene, Alfred. 'Fred and I had developed what seemed to be a healthy relationship and I was even considering making him a character in the film because he was funny in an understated way, smart.
Alfred and I hadn't managed to meet up for the money belt handover over the weekend, but I wasn't too concerned. The International Crisis Group is a prestigious publisher of reports on hot spots around the world, and Alfred was its representative. As such, when he suggested that I put my money belt into the ICG safe for safekeeping I thought that would probably be the best thing to do, after all. I deposited $3,000 plus credit card, passport and plane tickets with Alfred. I felt safe.
Monday morning rolls around and Rob and I had to figure out how to get to Makeni, as the helicopter for Makeni doesn't leave on Monday, and our MOP hadn't been filed, we were looking at public transportation, i.e. "poda-poda," mini bus usually full till people hang out the sides and the roof lugs under the weight of piles of bags of all descriptions. Alfred said that he could possibly take us to Makeni, as he might be making his own trip there, so we waited until after one for a sad Alfred to come us with my final wet laundry from the guest house and my money belt.
Well, my friend 'Fred wasn't too forthcoming with ye olde money belt. When I got into his little red car and asked him about the money belt he pointed to the glove compartment and said, "You had $3,000 in it, right?" I replied affirmatively and he told me that he had "borrowed" $1,100 from me. Uh, WHAT??!! I thought about that for a couple of minutes and then told Alfred that I wasn't really cool with that thought. He started to go into a long story about how he had needed to temporarily borrow the cash because his two bosses needed him to clear up some outstanding bills before they left the country for a month-long tour of West Africa. At this point Rob finally piped up from the back seat, asking Alfred why he hadn't Called me, since he had my cell phone number, to request a loan. For this there was no adequate answer, and we had a quiet ride to the poda-poda station. We were taking the poda-poda because Alfred's four wheel drive had a flat tire, and we were tired. Alfred arranged for us to purchase all of the seats of the poda-poda and for $44 U.S. we were on our way, having wasted a day, to Makeni. It was not happy-making. But Alfred promised to drive himself up to Makeni on Wednesday with my money. I told Alfred that I had faith in him but that my husband, a very Western male, viewed things slightly differently and I didn't know what would happen if we Didn't see Alfred in Makeni on Wednesday but it wouldn't be good. Rob and I later had to laugh about Alfred's choice of $1,100, baffled that it wasn't either all of the money, or less. I guessed that it was kind of him to leave me more money than he had taken. I still wanted to believe that it had been borrowed.
When we got to Makeni Colin laughed and told me that he thought that the money was gone. Seriously, however, he offered to head down to Freetown with me and "take Alfred for a drive," an old-school practice that Colin felt was worth a try in this case. I felt somehow reassured. If I were ever in danger, Colin would be one of my top rescuer candidates.
Colin had in any case managed to safely ensconce us at a British NGO guest house in Makeni. We had a fine room alone to ourselves with a double bed, functional mosquito net, private cold water shower, and, most importantly, an air-conditioner that piped out really cold air. It was probably the best five nights of sleep we'll have while we're here--for $15/night.
We spent most of our days following Colin and his CIVPOL sidekick, Uwe, a Canadian, through their meetings with local police. We did get out to the best-named village on our trip-the sleepy hamlet of BatKanu, where we found local police who hadn't had an arrest in a couple of weeks. The best interactions, however, were with the local Makeni police force, a sorry lot if I've ever seen one (I'm taking this assessment from my CIVPOL colleagues as well). The theme of this week was accountability and transparency, and discussing the many ways a police man could get into trouble if he hadn't properly filled out his "pocketbook," or notepad, regarding police-related matters. In a morning survey of the troops, few had filled out the notebooks correctly, some not at all, and others had never been issued the books because they were illiterate. They got to hear about that, but I really pitied the man who had somehow lost about $20 of a suspect's money-saying some had been used to pay off the suspect's hotel bill and he didn't know where the rest of it was. There was a sort of written account of the money but it was neither legible nor comprehendable, apparently. The talking-to Colin gave this man put my mother in her heyday to shame.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons this week: I'd been working alone, and needed to learn to direct and produce for Rob--i.e. communicate exactly what I thought needed to be shot and done. Once I did that, life was good-but there were a couple of interesting interview moments when we were trying to communicate while I was interviewing, which was not too effective. I learned that the best question I could ask people here was, believe it or not, whether they had any questions for me. That seemed to take them completely off their guard and get them rolling right along with all that they had Really wanted to tell me. I should have put a radio microphone on Willie the policeman when he was talking with Colin because the surrounding police station noise is quite distracting and the exchange was amazing--though my notion to have Colin interview Willie rather than me was a good one. I relearned that, in situations like this, when some things and comments only happen once, you have to roll more than you'd thought. You mic all of the time. Your subjects just have to live with that, which is why you choose willing subjects. I learned that you have to take what you can every single fucking time. I had held off on my major interview with American Amy Baker (remember her, the original raison d'etre for my trip to Makeni) for this week when Rob would be there to help me and she got hideous pinkeye--rather than let her wear sunglasses in our interview we shot really wide on the prettiest scene we've yet done. I've given in to the fact that I'll have to do more than one interview with my main characters because the more I learn the more I need to know.
Willie told me that he hadn't taken much action when Amy and I had a flat because he didn't know us and we hadn't asked him to intervene. I thought that was both clever in a way and indicative of the way the police seem to do business around here. Willie is a hard worker who was up and working to keep the traffic flowing when we left Makeni at eight this morning, so what can you say? What are the standards and how to judge? That's peace building.
We met my favorite named character, "Base Marine," a former RUF fighter who currently operates a pineapple farm, a bar, a bakery, is doing HIV/AIDS education, and generally working this post-war NGO world for all it can give him. I'm conflicted about former combattants (calling them that is no longer PC, because we are supposed to see them all the same--though they have received dollars and training for being exaclty that-ex-combattants), who are now reaping great rewards from simply ceasing to terrorize their fellows. But that's the way it works and without incentives I guess they would never stop-certainly didn't before. But it was good to meet with this guy and I would have liked to meet his CDF counterpart from the other side, but he was in Freetown all week while we were in Makeni.
We filmed Amy jogging through police road blocks, filmed her changing money in Krio, filmed her shopping for fresh tomatos in the local market-Colin won't shop for food in the local market, preferring to eat boxed pasta from the UN store in Freetown. He feels that he'll stay healthy that way, and he may be right--Amy's currently suffering from the "Apollo," what we would call pink eye--but they call it "Apollo" here after the space shuttle crackup because they think that the particles have affected the cosmos here and can still fly into your eyes.
Rob got to watch a green mamba snake cross the highway and then got to be in the UN vehicle that smashed it into the road after it apparently reared its head in a very dramatic way. I missed the snake, though I may see one at some point. It's snake season and the green and black mambas seem to be out in force, at least in the provinces.
The most amazing scene we shot, however, was the helicopter story, which was even better than I had hoped. We cruised out to the scene of the crime, a small village a 20-minute drive from Makeni, where we met the local headmaster, his colleagues, and an Italian Catholic priest with a mouthful for the UN. As a Civil Affairs volunteer, Amy was the local representative who these guys were all venting to, though Colin and Uwe were present. It seemed that the village had just received a check from the UN for the amount of $6,000 for the destroyed roof that had been torn off by an errant helicopter last May. But in the meantime, as we witnessed, the rains had destroyed the entire structure of the school, necessitating a complete rehaul and more money. Amy withstood the firey rhetoric bravely, pink eye and all. But the picture of the entire village crowded around a cluster of school desks set outside in the middle of the village was something we'll never forget. I wonder how the story will go. As these things are never simple, the headmaster later suggested to Amy that he would really rather go to America in the end. I think Amy will manage to postpone that one until her departure in December, which I hope postdates a new school. I'll be following that one.
Otherwise, we attended a going-away party for a MILOP in Makeni. It was held in the bottom floor of the UN container that Amy Colin and co use as offices. Flourescent lights, cold fish and chips, bad music, warm beer and cheap scotch about defined it. Fifteen or so different nationalities between them. Which is one of the beauties of the UN.
A much more satisfying scene was last night's meal at the CIVPOL group house (Colin lives alone at the guest house where we stayed-the one with a generator). Nor, the Malaysian, cooked a traditional (read HOT!) meal for all of us by candlelight and his headlamp-over a small charcol brazier outside. Like a barbecue but a bigger pain in the ass. Fabulous food, great company. Uwe ran around to cook us some interesting vegetables from a bag he'd picked up at the UN compound in Freetown.
We were hot and heavy into the speculation of how exactly we were going to put 'Fred's feet to the coals, given that he'd postponed his Wednesday, then Thursday trip to Makeni. It was 8:30 Friday night and we got the call. Alfred, in Makeni, wondering where to meet me. I hadn't mentioned the money outright since our conversation in Freetown, so we weren't sure what to expect. The boys drove us out in the big UN forerunner to meet 'Fred and I hopped into his SUV, guiding him back to the UN compound, a formidable sight with its barbed wire and deserted watchtower in the daylight. Alfred and the ICG driver, Edward, were quiet for the ride, probably terrified. When we stopped the car in front of the UN container/offices Colin parked his car behind the SUV, to block it in.
Imagine an empty office at night, squalid, flourescent lights, ugly. Two cops still in uniform present, Rob, Edward, Alfred, and me. I didn't try too hard to make small talk, and Alfred handed me an envelope, which I gave to Uwe to count. It was money, and it was real. Alfred saw him checking the money and showed me a bank receipt. I didn't ask any more questions and he didn't offer any more answers. I was also missing a mini-disc recorder (and still am), which I highly suspect disappeared during my residence at ICG, but I don't think I'll see it again. Alfred says he's looking into it. The funny thing was that it didn't seem like such a triumph, though it had been such a stressor. Alfred just looked sad and defeated, and I still think that he is a basically good man who got himself into a bad situation. I still also think that I may get a call for a drink before I go and if I do I'll take him up on it because I would love to know what really happened.
Expect the unexpected, always. Our Makeni trip went so smoothly, I am convinced, because we had our little Africa hiccup at the beginning of the week.
That's about it for now. We drove down with Amy and Colin for lobster in Freetown this morning and they've now gone. I think that our work in Makeni is good-we have some amazing footage. I don't yet know how the film is going to come together, especially since we haven't hit our biggest X factor yet-Liberia. We're off to Monrovia early Monday morning. I'm very glad that Rob will be going with me.
Over and out from Freetown-
Jessie and Rob