So, after all of yesterday's kick-off noise and excitement the dust settled and I realized that the one major gap in my recording of the first day of disarmament was the guns. I had made the decision to stick with Opande, who was advised to stay away from Gbarnga (pronounced "Banga") disarmament site until the afternoon, when the guns had already been collected. I was given shit for this decision by an African colleague, who apparently was at the site filming away from the beginning. But he didn't get to witness the Force Commander blowing up a bunch of surface-to-air and other missiles, a total of 150 flavors of munitions, apparently, that were found in Charles Taylor's mansion after his departure. All I know is that when the pile didn't blow the first time I had a moment of thinking, "hmmm...I wonder what happens when this shit backfires?" Like in a bad Saturday Night Live skit. Anyway, the ammo was dutifully blown up, and we were able to witness the blast cabled to us in the safety of our bunker--at least 100 meters (I'm not so good with distances) from the blast. It was large and satisfying destruction, and a good symbol of the blowing up of rebel arms that happens at the end of each day.
Have I mentioned what it's like to try to keep up with Opande? It's following a human dervish. Which is why when we visited the disarmament site yesterday it was all I could do to keep up with the General, forget about the rest of the b-roll--though let me say here and now that the site of these scarecrow kids getting searched again and again and standing in lines with their mats and their pail of toiletries really got me. For all of those kids you are skeptical about, who you think will just take the first disarmament payment and go you do see in the faces of others the fatigue that comes when you simply can't take any more. The site of Opande going up to those kids, shaking hands and telling them, "War is over," is impressive, and makes you believe. Makes you want to believe, anyway. It's good stuff. But catching it, catching Opande, his expressions, the rebels, the cutaways, the wides...it's enough to keep me doubting my skills all of the time. And then there is the missing b-roll...sorry friends, I have to geek out for a moment. I've found that a hair bobble can hold on the little rubber jobby that keeps mic attached to the camera. At least the batteries have held out on Opande's mic, thank god, because I sure as hell can't stop him once he's on a roll.
Today, I knew that Opande was office-bound and I asked him whether I could go back to Gbarnga and get some rebels disarmed. Opande generously allowed me to head with a convoy back overland--I was worried because I knew that the disarmament would be over by afternoon, and we got a late start, but my driver, "Tofee" (I'll get his spelling right), one of Opande's right-hand men (a man like Opande needs more than one right-hand man), understood my urgency and made it happen. I got some amazing footage. The thing is that some of the kids really do carry guns that are just about as long as they are tall. And then I watched and filmed as one of them, who I would have sworn was no more than 10 years old, told the UN workers that he was born in '85. He stuck to this story when he was teased and called a liar. Repeatedly. Kids like that one make me understand the whole aid worker impulse. Because I found myself wishing I had candy, a pen, a ball, money, something to give him. Maudlin, I know, but true. He was so thin. They all wear baggy, baggy jeans, which help mask how very thin they are. This guy had to have weighed less than 100 pounds.
There were 255 rebels disarmed yesterday-five more than were meant to be, versus a rumored 205 today. Apparently a couple of the LURD rebel leaders weren't playing ball today, and needed a little talking-to. The UN has so much in making it work this time. The politics also involve a love story between the Iron Lady (Aisha, the woman who loves to throw cash to her followers) and her husband. More on that to come as I can. Let's just say that the lady is not pleased.
Anyway, I'm back and off to diner at my new friend Jane's house. Jane, as in Jane Jacobs, friend of Colin's, as it turns out, and my most wonderful hostess. She lives in an oasis in the middle of chaos. Really. Those of you who felt me sweat in Makeni should be heartened that I've landed in the most incredible luxury that makes doing my job, or finishing my job, a real pleasure. Jane has AC, hot showers, a cell phone she insists on lending me and food she keeps cooking for me. Let's hear it for Jane. If I wasn't pretty sure we'll have the chance to return the favor in California one day I would feel a bit guilty, taking such complete advantage of her hospitality as I have. In the meantime I am simply grateful.
There are so many things I don't want to forget. Today's is the sign at the side of the road declaring: The Jaben Lewis Flow Family Estate. Which apparently consisted of two tiny broken brick buildings on the edge of the jungle. My other favorite was the sign for the Cryogenic Institute of Sierra Leone, found on the road to Freetown. The entire concept is wonderful.
Posted by Jessie Deeter at April 16, 2004 07:30 PM