Mama Hokey Kemoh

Bockarie Su Gande - Master Mende Carver

Master Carver, Bockarie Su Gande, carves a game board called warri for me. A Bondo helmet mask that he is also
in the process of carving sits behind the pole. The picture was taken on Su Gande's back veranda in Kenema in
1969-70.  -  photo © by Chad Finer

From the village town near Panguma in Lower Bambara Chiefdom, Bockarie Su Gande settled on the east side of Kenema where he lived quietly and spent a good deal of his time either hunting for wood to use (he was a carver), or in carving. It was on his back veranda that he spent his hours carving Bondo Masks for area Bondo Society leaders. Self taught, his neighbors gave him space as he was thought to posses magical level powers. Somehow I learned about him - I do not remember from whom. Someone told me about his carvings and I paid him a visit to see if he would be willing to carve me - on commission - 3 Bondo masks. At first I remember him being a bit standoffish and distant. I am sure he was puzzled by my presence and my request. However, he agreed to carve me the 3 helmet masks and also to carve me (seen in this picture) a game called Warri - a game that was played with cowrie shells. Later on he carved me a sculpture of a man's spirit. I do not remember the costs for his work but I do remember that it was reasonable. A quiet man - whose Krio was limited (his language was Mende; he did not speak English), he and I did develop a limited friendship such that he allowed me to travel with him to his village to see the raw wood cut up into sections for the mask. I also traveled with him to his village to obtain a Nomoli or soapstone carving that had been found in his village and that he was willing to sell. Our conversations were limited yet his concern for my safety when we traveled to Panguma area was great. There was one time when a soldier, in hopes of intimidating me, put me in a bush cell jail with other men and Su Gande was in tears of concern that I was going to be harmed. After a few hours - I was released and his relief was almost palpable. So in the end Su Gande made me the 3 different Bondo masks, the game of Warri, and a statue of a men's devil. It was also with his help that I was able to obtain the Nomoli. 

Where are you now, Pa Sam?

Pa Sam at his farmhouse near Vaama Nongowa  c. 1969
photo © by Chad Finer

In the village of Vaama, a village about 4 to 6 miles from Kenema, Pa Sam and his wife Massa lived. He was friends and perhaps family of the Garloughs, a family that befriended us when we moved to Kenema in August 1968. Although a very generous man, he was more businesslike then friendly. It was at sometime in my first year in Kenema that our paths crossed. Massa made regular visits to Kenema to visit the Garloughs and to shop in Kenema. I best remember her for her wonderful smile and friendliness. Although she only spoke Mende (I was quite limited in my Mende conversation), we could communicate to some degree. I remember also that during Bondo activity she would play the segburre, a woman's instrument used to accompany song. Pa Sam, on the other hand, rarely came through town and was more likely to be out there in Vaama working on his farm. Diminutive, wiry, yet strong, he could work all day in the hot  sun and never seem to tire. His hands were weathered from all the farm labor. With cutlass in hand he would brush his farm in preparation for the planting of upland rice. On the hills by Vaama he would plant acres of rice, see to it that birds were driven from eating the ripening rice kernels, and when harvest time arrived, he and Massa would pick the rice, bag it, store some for their own use, and give the rest away to family and needy friends. There was a time when I went to help him as he prepared his farm for planting. I remember it because, unlike Pa Sam who had hands of leather, my hands were far from used to brushing with a cutlass. It was in the village of Tokpombu that I had commissioned a local blacksmith to make me two cutlasses. He crafted them out of car springs and made the handle out of car tires. My brushing skills were minimal, yet on that day Pa Sam and I worked side by side getting the land ready. However, I was to last a short time. My hand blistered terribly and though Pa Sam admirably labored the entire day, I had to give up as my hand became painful and useless. Much to his credit, he ignored my plight as I apologized for not being able to keep on. By mid-day I headed home to nurse my wounds. A lesson learned. 

I have my doubts that the village of Vaama, a tiny settlement of maybe ten houses, survived the war. And what of Pa Sam and his wife Massa?  Such noble folks, I wonder where they are now and whether they are alive. 

Massa plays the segburreh - taken on Dama Road in Kenema c. 1969 Massa was married to Pa Sam -
taken across the road from our house  -  photo © by Chad Finer

Rice on the Upland

An upland rice farm near Panguma - Lower Bambara Chiefdom c. 1970 Pictured here in the back is a typical 
upland farm house, and rice growing among stumps of trees and brush - a very typical farm in Mendeland.
photo © by Chad Finer

Rice was the staple food in Sierra Leone, and the upland rice grown there was very tasty. In comparison to the Carolina bleached white rice that most of us knew the Mende brown rice was meaty, tasty, and as we got used to the pepper - this became our staple as well. Rice was grown with the slash (cutting the brush with a machete) and burn (burn the areas where the rice was to be planted) method. During the end of the dry season the brushing of the farms took place and just before the rains the rice was broadcast planted. Although at first the farms appeared messy with remnant tree stumps interspersed with the growing rice, but we became used to this method of farming and its appearance. Farmers would built their shelters (farm houses) to get out of the sun and/or rain.  Here they might cook a late meal. In the farm house was stored a warm overcoat,  an umbrella, cooking utensils, tools for farming, or even a sling to drive birds.  Under the palm leaf roof a farmer might get out of the hot day and rest a bit. However, at the end of the day, the farmer would pack up and head home to the nearby village to sleep in his house. From early March until late September or October the rice, grown on the hills (the Mende did not like to work in the swamps) grew tall and green, and as the dry season began (November) the rice dried and was harvested by hand. It was a one time a year harvest. Despite the introduction of new types of rice that could be grown 2 or even 3 times a year, the Mende stuck to their traditional rice which was grown in sufficient amounts and in fact tasted much better. 

Diamonds

a small, raw diamond of industrial quality - this was shown to me as I traveled on the bush road from our house

 to the village of Vaama Nongowa  c. 1969 -  photo © by Chad Finer

There was much talk regarding diamonds and diamond mining during our days of training and before we received our assignments. We were told, or warned not to get involved in this enterprise. Diamond mining in Sierra Leone was surface or alluvial mining. The Diamond Corporation in those days had to some degree been nationalized, but this seemed to me to be in name only. The higher echelon seemed to be orchestrated by Europeans (white men)- some from Europe, and some from South Africa, which in those days still suffered from apartheid.  Warned not to buy or even dig for diamonds, we kept away from the frequent offers to buy them from the many illicit dealers in our area. It was common to be accosted by men in my travels who would try and sell me a diamond - I always refused.  I might be passing by on a remote bush trail when I would be passed by someone carrying diamonds. The usual scenario was as follows: as I crossed paths with one of these men he would stick out his tongue to reveal a number of diamonds that he carried in his mouth. When this happened at first I was not sure what was going on. Usually - a friend that I was traveling with let me know what I was being shown.  As I spent a lot of time trekking in our area - this became a common occurrence. Most of the concentration in diamond digging and mining took place to our east (Kenema District and Kono District). In these areas the mining was controlled partially by government soldiers, and mostly by Diamond Corporation security that to me seemed somewhat outside the law. These areas were controlled and required passes to be there if you did not live there. In all cases an identity card was required. However, these areas were vast and controlling who entered and left the area was challenging for the Corporation. Illicit diamond was rampant. Many of my treks in the bush passed by illicit miners in remote sections of the bush.  Alluvial or surface mining involved mainly a simple process of digging along the surface and then sifting the diggings trying to find a diamond. It was labor intensive. Many a village man abandoned their village life and headed to the diamond digging areas to seek their fortune. Very few succeeded. This translocation of men led to wild and lawless settlements in the diamond digging areas. Women, children, and the old were left in their villages to try and manage, while these illicit diamond diggers headed off. Many of the settlements - predominantly men who also left behind many of their village traditions in the process - were at times scary areas to be in. Periodically the government soldiers would drive off the illicit miners from the area, and these men would head to nearby towns like Kailahun or Kenema. Usually penniless and hungry, this influx of men would for a while result in the increase in petty crimes in the towns. What was clear was that the great lure of diamonds in these areas led to a dislocation of traditional values. Men, driven to find their fortune, left behind their wives, their parents, and their children. In these  areas they found lawlessness, crime, and lack of social structure.  Just as in the Gold Rush Days (in the US) these areas became boom towns and dangerous. I have written elsewhere about my occasional travels through these diamond areas.  In fact, one such trip left me detained in a bush jail for several hours by a soldier bent more on intimidation of me than anything else. As my Sierra Leone friend worried about my plight, I was more amused, knowing both that I was in the area legally and with a Peace Corps pass (ID). The soldier's purpose was to make me squirm a bit. When his superior came to the post - he asked, "What's the Peace Corps doing there?"  The soldier - unable to come up with an adequate response was chastised and I was released.   
Although this rich supply of diamonds in Sierra Leone had some potential to help the country's economy - most of the time it did not. Too many times this industry led to corruption of officials and to a smuggling undercurrent being driven by both the artificial pricing of diamonds in Europe and America which kept the value of diamonds and very high levels, and being driven by greed. This industry, which had great potential to support many in country ventures such as education and other infrastructure projects unfortunately was more likely to lead to men abandoning their villages and families, and heading off to find their fortunes in these wild areas where crime was rampant, where there was little in the way of social structures, and where less than a handful ever met with success. Many times these diamond digging areas turned into wastelands where lawlessness and chaos seemed more likely.   And who really benefited?  Those in power. Those across the seas in Europe and America. Europeans if you will. The average Sierra Leone citizen saw little if anything. And as the corruption became more prominent - greed became overwhelming. Diamond selling became a means by the few to become rich. It was diamonds that was later to become the means by which some could finance armaments that had never before been seen in Sierra Leone. Automatic weaponry financed by the blood diamonds snuck its way into the Sierra Leone persona and charismatic, quixotic, and evil men drove this charge, bent on control, drunk on power,and with their selling of  diamonds, able to finance the horror that became an 11 year battle to steal a country. They bought this sophisticated weaponry and handed it to a youth that was ready to be bad. They kidnapped children and made them (coerced them if you will) into child soldiers. They created camps where women were used as sex slaves - and this was all done as a war policy. And they made the children kill their own. These war crimes included the maiming and killing of its own citizens as a policy of horror and terror. This all had never been seen in Sierra Leone before. From 1991 to 2002 this horror - this civil war - sat down on a poor country. Folks left in droves to escape the killing and the maiming. As rebels and others roamed the country creating havoc, those who could ran away. For a decade there was little schooling. For ten years the social fabric of the country was in stress and challenge. And the scars of this horror - have left a disheartening memory on the psyche of this proud country. 

Pa Maju Bah - Al Hajji and Fula Section Chief - Kenema, Sierra Leone

Pa Maju Bah of Kenema was the Fula section chief. Photo taken  c. 1969 during Ramadan at Pa Maju's 
house on Dama Road. Fula musicians play typical Fula instruments, and wear typical traditional Fula 
clothing.  -  photo © by Chad Finer

Al Hajji Pa Maju Bah was the Fula section chief in the area of Kenema where we lived. A gentle and distinguished man, he was the prominent cattle dealer in Kenema Town, and the leader of all the Fula in the area. He lived modestly, had many visitors daily, had been on a pilgrimage to Mecca, and was disappointed in the United States trying to be God by traveling to and landing on the moon (1969). As he complained to me on one of my visits to his house, he was disappointed that, "Americans were trying to play God."  

Talent

Mama Mabinty makes wax prints. Aminata Lahai helps out.

Kenema Town  c. 1970

photo © by Chad Finer

Pa Foday Koroma, village chief and weaver of country cloth - Bitema Nongowa   c. 1969

                                                              photo © by Chad Finer

From my earliest days in Sierra Leone I was moved by the many talented people that I came in contact with. In our Freetown training in July 1968 we, as volunteers were treated to The Sierra Leone Dance Troupe on a special night when we all had finished our summer school there and were headed on to Njala for more language training and for training in agriculture. The Dance Troupe performance was spectacular - it was always so. That night at a Freetown hotel all the Sierra Leone tribes represented themselves well with inspiring song and dance, and with marvelous costumes. I was so very moved by what I saw. Upcountry was no less inspiring. In our neighborhood were wonderful singers, wonderful musicians, and wonderful craftspeople. Traditional singing dominated the area in those days, although certainly High Life was popular and could be heard at local bars (Jattu's Bar was a short distance away from our house we could hear High Life coming from their speakers). I loved all the music - but there were other talents. In our area Country Cloth was still being made. This labor intensive cotton textile, grown with the rice, harvested also with the rice harvest, and then cotton thread was made by the women, who dyed the thread various colors (blue, brown, and white or natural), before the weavers (always men in those days) would line their tripod looms and make the cotton cloth. Country Cloth was very valuable, but time and 'progress' was making it a rare commodity.   I found the Country Cloth unique.   In our area there were carvers who made everything from wooden carved fertility figures to helmet masks used by the iconic spirits of the secret women's society. The carvings were  incredibly artistic, abstract, and beautiful. There were also women in our area who made garrah cloth, wonderfully dyed tie-dyed material, or wax prints. These were sized as Lappas - roughly 3 feet by 6 feet in size. Talented tailors would them make this material into beautiful dresses and shirts. These were very popular with the Peace Corps Volunteers. 

Forests and Villages

Jay Clark - PCV - at Joro, Dama Chiefdom - Eastern Province - fixing furniture

photo © by Chad Finer

Jay Clark teaching at Muslim secondary School in Joro

photo © by Chad Finer

Jay Clark swimming AT Joro Falls - 1968

photo © by Chad Finer

me at Joro Falls - late 1968

photo by Susan Finer

In the Kenema area there was a vast forest of exotic and tropical hardwoods. I remember there being the headquarters of the Sierra Leone Forest Industries in Kenema Town where much of the wood was processed. This sat up toward the Kambuii Hills several miles to our north. At Forest Industries you could buy wood products such as bowls – we did purchase a number of these bowls to bring home and give as presents to our family and friends.  The most impressive part of this industry was the huge trucks that daily would pass by our house from the south (Dama). These long trucks would haul the most gigantic logs that I had ever seen – each intact and on a very long flat bed. Many of these logs were more that 80 feet in length and some as wide as 10 to 12 feet in diameter. Usually the trucks that passed by us had one or at most 2 logs. Daily, 10 or 12 trucks would pass by our house on the way to forest industry headquarters t o off load the wood and then head back out. At headquarters the wood would be processed for furniture, lumber, and other goods. It was clear, from all this activity by our house, that the tropical forest of Sierra Leone was rapidly being devoured. Except for the Kambuii Hills that ran diagonally to the north and east of Kenema – there was very little in the way of nearby and valuable forest. Most of this harvesting came from forests well to our south and east. Land in our area had been heavily farmed by the slash and burn method. In our area there were some large cottonwood trees but most of the land, depleted by the farming process, had scrub trees of little value.  Near Joro, some 25 miles from where we lived (and in Dama Chiefdom to our south) there was some untouched forestland. This spread to the east from Joro up to where there was a beautiful waterfall and swimming area that we visited several times. In Joro, two volunteers, Jay Clark and Charley Goudiss  lived and taught at the Muslim School there. A pleasant town – Joro had a large and busy Saturday market. Situated on the main road to Kenema Joro was a rural town. The falls up in the hills to the east were safe for swimming and we thus paid at least two visits to this area. A trip to Joro was easy for us – getting on a lorry in Kenema was then a straight shot of about an hour (or less) to Joro. Jay and Charley lived right on the main road – thus we could leave school on a Friday and be there easily by supper. The village had a nice rural feeling to it.  A women next door to them cooked for them – and she made tasty ‘African chop,’ that we would have. Their tin-roofed mud house with concrete floor was dusty, but typical of the houses throughout the area. A central room with large veranda through the front door, and small veranda in back, was lined by several rooms off the central area.  Covered by a tin roof Jay and Charley had some somewhat uncomfortable furniture to sit in. On each side of their house were nearby neighbors. I remember that we enjoyed visiting such villages. 

Why an interest in the Bondo?

My work as a Peace Corps volunteer in up-country Sierra Leone involved both teaching in a secondary school, and living in a rural community on the outskirts of Kenema, the headquarters of the Eastern Province of Sierra Leone.  My weekdays were spent teaching general science and mathematics, and coaching netball. My free time was spent trying to get to know the area where I lived.  My neighborhood was very typical.

The daily rhythms of life took place here  just like anywhere else – folks started their day at sunrise, went to work whether it was to local industries or to their farms – made meals – took care of their families – and worried about local and national politics.  On moonlit nights they sang wonderful songs on their verandas. At night there was darkness and quiet.  Throughout my time in Sierra Leone I was usually out and about with my cameras, and when neighbors allowed me, I took pictures. At our home I made a dark room so that I could process the black & white film, and make copies for gifts. 

I think it was about a year before word got out about my photography and my neighbors began asking me to take their pictures. In those times it was not unusual for neighborhood friends as well as strangers to come by, dressed in their best, to have me do a portrait. I suspect that many of those pictures are still in their possession.

In the process of establishing this local photo reputation, people also got wind of my interest in learning about Mende culture. It was this, that led folks to  let me know when there might be traditional activities in the area.  This ran the gamut from the making of local cotton textiles (called country-cloth) to the activities of the local area secret women’s society called the Bondo.

Across the road from us lived our neighbor Mama Hokey Kemoh, who as time went on, we were to learn, was the head of the Bondo.  This traditional women’s society was active during the dry season (December through March). It’s icon – the Bondo Devil (or spirit) became of special interest to me. First off it was unusual in appearance with a wonderfully carved, shiny black helmet mask – a somewhat amorphous body of indigo dyed raffia – and usually accompanied by 1 – 2 attendants. There were other traditional ‘devils’ that were controlled by men. But The Bondo Devil was solely a women’s spirit – and as such was very unusual. There were no other women’s spirits (with masks) in West Africa.

So – in our area, when Bondo activity was out and about, neighbors would let me know, and I would be out to see the goings on and document it with my camera. And as folks became more comfortable with my presence and reputation, they allowed me to see activities in local villages and to take the pictures.  Bondo activity was not my only interest, but it became a wonderful chance for me to observe activities that were clearly very important to women growing up in up-country Mendeland.

Travel to Koindu

snake man - First saw him in Kenema at the Cacao Show there. I also saw him in Koindu, Kailahun District, Eastern Province. The picture to the right was taken in Kenema December 1968. I was told that this man died of a snake bite two weeks after I saw him in Koindu





   all photos © by Chad Finer

illicit diamond miners - Koindu, Kailahun District, Eastern Province

Travel to the international market and to Koindu from where we lived (Kenema) took a full day of travel by public transport. At some point early in our second year we

photo store with wall advertising in Koindu

decided to travel there to see this town situated in Kissi Country and at the point where the borders of Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone came together. From Kenema our transport headed south to Dama Chiefdom before turning to the east, eventually crossing into the Kailahun District, and passing through the towns of Daru, Pendembu, and Kailahun before reaching Koindu. Remember several parts of this trip including having our transport held up by soldiers who wanted to talk to me before letting us go on. They pulled me off the transport and one of the officers wanted to lecture to me about discrimination in Washington DC. When I had little to say to him in response he let me get back in the lorry and head on. At another point just outside Koindu proper we were delayed again by diamond diggers who had completely dug up our road making it impassable. The story we heard was that earlier in the day, after a rain, someone had found a diamond in the road, and soon after this discovery diamond miners came to the spot and started digging for other diamonds. By the time of our arrival the entire road was a mess and our transport had to make a considerable detour in order to get into the town. I do not remember where we stayed on that visit - perhaps with fellow Peace Corps volunteers. The international market was rich in variety and size. Here people from Sierra Leone, met up with Guineans, and Liberians. The market was vast and there was much going on. In one section I came upon men dressed in Western style suits an playing both drums and proselytizing. I was to learn that these men were from a Liberian church called Church of Lord Aladhura. I remember it being late in the day as I was walking about = and there being quite a crowd around these men listening to what they had to say. It was also in this large market that I ran into a very eccentric man who also drew quite a crowd. Very unusual in appearance and behavior, he carried with him a collection of live and poisonous snakes including spitting black cobras, a Gaboon viper, and green mambas. I think I had also seen this man in Kenema one time during the Kenema Trade Show. While the crowd surrounded him and his snakes he would dialogue with them while "playing" with the snakes. The snakes were large. Since I had made quite an effort to learn about the poisonous snakes in the area I could easily identify them and of course I knew how poisonous they were so I gave him and them plenty of room. I took a number of photos as he went through his act.

Climate as I saw it

The climate in Sierra Leone took some getting used to. Days could get hot with maximum temperatures hovering around 100ºF during the dry season. On many days the humidity could be stifling. Clothes on the line might not dry, and bed sheets felt moist when time came to sleep. In our first days I think it was the humidity that got to us most. Those days were often interspersed with both sun and clouds and rain. The rain would come off and on during those early rain season days and come in sheets. Clouds would be low in the sky, and often there would be thunder and lightening. Sometimes there would be heavy winds and heavy, heavy rain. So – our first weeks in Sierra Leone, in July 1968 I noticed the humidity and try as we might to adjust to it, there seemed nothing that we could do. We dressed in light cotton clothes and by mid morning, as sweat pored off, our clothes would be soaked and in need of change. If there was rain, it might feel a slight bit cooler, but again it was the moisture in the air that seemed to be the challenge. Early on we bought large umbrellas that we carried everywhere. Rains could come quickly and without warning, and could delay your walking about. Rain season, as it was called, began sometime in late March or early April and lasted until October. During that period, the area got between 150 and 200 inches of rain. Some days rain seemed to last all day but more likely was a day in which there might be sun intermittently mixed with periods of downpour. In Kenema, there was slightly less rain and humidity than in Freetown but this difference was minor.

So our first few months in country required adjustments with the climate being one of a number of challenges. However, as time went on we clearly started to figure it all out. The heat became increasingly tolerable. We figured out how to deal with the intense sun, and we learned how to adjust to the humidity. And – I suspect – there was a change in our physiology as well. In those first few weeks, my clothes would be drenched by mid morning and with just minimal activity walking about. And after our first few months in Kenema, I could walk from our house to downtown Kenema and back, umbrella in hand, and barely sweat at all. Something clearly changed within us. During the October to March dry season the sun during the day could get quite harsh but when we headed downtown to shop, our umbrellas would protect us not from rains, which never came during dry season, but from the sun. And as the dry season continued on in February and March, the days would get increasingly humid, but again rain did not fall. On a trip down to Kenema from our home, a distance of more than a mile, the heat could be terrific if we chose midday to head out, and with it, the humidity could be brutal. But dry season nights and early mornings could be downright comfortable. In December, dry winds off the Sahara called the Harmattan, were cooling and dusty. The air on some days might be tan tinged in color as dust off the Sahara would be blown toward our area. But there were times when we were comfortable – we even joked about being cold. Our neighbors found those mornings quite cool and they would dress with extra clothing. For us, those days would be the most pleasant.

A Volunteer in Sierra Leone

We were volunteers because we had chosen to apply, and if selected, we would serve somewhere in the world where there was a need. The application process was somewhat tedious, with multiple forms to be filled out, copies of records and transcripts to be sent, and names of neighbors and friends as references. This all took time. Then, in your neighborhood, the FBI would show up to talk to your neighbors about what kind of a citizen you were. I remember neighbors talking about this – about an agent showing up at their door, and talking to them about their purpose and then, many times through a closed screen door, asking about what kind of a guy I was. I remember it being about a week that these FBI agents went door to door in the neighborhood where I lived asking about me. Where we lived it was unusual for visitors to be so well-dressed as these agents. I also remember how very unusual it was for investigations such as these to go on in my neighborhood. I suspect that some folks who agreed to comment about me felt that the FBI was investigating me for something that I had done. I was impressed by how very complete the FBI was in this process. Not only did they seek out almost every neighbor, they also went to references that I had given and spoke to each one. I guess the FBI did not find me suspect because by April 1968 – some two months before I was to leave for Sierra Leone and training – I received a phone call telling me that I was to be a new volunteer in Sierra Leone. Although I had certainly heard of the country I knew little of its history or location. Off I hustled to the family Encyclopedia Britannica to look it up and read about it. I remember being both excited and anxious. I also remember wondering what I had got myself into. The Britannica talked about the tropics, about malaria, about hardships, yet it also gave a history of the country and its people. I wondered if I could really live there. In the next month medical examinations and immunizations took place near Boston at the Chelsea Naval Station. Here, a Navy doctor went over my health record, examined me, and ordered the first shots of gamma globulin, tetanus booster, and other shots. Leaving the base I felt like a pin cushion, but I also felt proud that this organization was doing what seemed like a very careful job. In the mail, Peace Corps Washington sent me loads of information about the country, about what we would be doing there, and about what other things were expected of us before heading out. I remember May and June being quite busy. All of our friends knew of our choice and were excited for us. Our families were apprehensive.  By July 2 we were in Philadelphia being “staged” (additional immunizations were given), and by July 4 we were packed into a large plane for the cross-Atlantic journey to our host country.

More About my teaching (at HRSS)

I was a teaching neophyte on arrival in Sierra Leone struggling to figure it all out. Our In country Peace Corps training program was initially designed in both Washington at Peace Corps headquarters, and in Freetown at the Sierra Leone Department of Education and at the Freetown Peace Corps office. And this training program was well designed. Despite the Sierra Leonean Coup and takeover in April 1968, Sierra Leone in those days was in decent shape, and education was supported and was important to the country. With this in mind, incountry Sierra Leone teachers and administrators worked with Peace Corps to develop a Freetown Summer School to both teach some of us how to teach, and to ease us into the Sierra Leone system of education. There was an extra and added benefit to the Freetown schoolboys and girls who attended - they got some extra teaching and learning. So each day Monday through Friday in the month of July in 1968, from 8am to about noon we were supervised as we taught, underwent critiques of our classroom work, and this all went to increase our comfort level in the classroom, and learn a few techniques to see that class went smoothly and well. Our afternoons were spent in language training (Krio). At night we prepared for each class room day. My responsibility was to teach science and mathematics and Susan's was to teach English and History. The summer school was filled with students from Freetown - and they helped ease us into teaching by being well-behaved. This was helpful in making it easy. At the end of July 1968 the summer school training was ended and we all headed to Njala Univesity College - the agricultural college for Sierra Leone for training in agriculture, for more cultural training, and for language training. At Njala we lived on campus in school dormitories. We ate African chop in the school cafeteria. We planted swamp rice. Our free time was spent talking to our Sierra Leone language instructors or in exploring the area around Njala. We experimented with speaking Krio and sometimes even succeeded. In late August we received our teaching assignment to the newly established girl's school called Holy Rosary Secondary School in Kenema, and headed off (by public transport)from Njala to Kenema to meet our principal and to set up our living quarters. At HRSS we were the only lay teachers. Our colleagues were all sisters of the Holy Rosary. I was the only male on the staff. Our principal, Sister Joseph Miriam met us that first day, and kindly showed us about. Our other teaching colleague in that first year was Sister Kathleen Toland (Sr. Adrian), a woman who had spent much of her life in Africa, first in Nigeria before being driven out by the Biafran War. She saw her purpose as teaching young girls, getting them educated, and providing them with the tools to make something of themselves in life. It was either later in our first year, or just before our second year, that Sr. Celia Doyle (Ibar) came to teach - I remember that she also taught science. On that first day - Sr. Miriam assigned me to teach physical education and be the net ball coach. She handed me a net ball rule book to read on that first day. The school (HRSS) was small in that first year with one form of girls (perhaps 35 or 40 students). Although most of the students came from the Eastern Province - there were some from the north. Many of their names come back to me: Elizabeth Sama, Cecilia Banya, Bernadette Conteh, Alawiah Mourtada, Princess Bundu, Jalahan Sesay,Agnes Bundu,Mary Fortune, Elizabeth Karimu, Sabina Tucker, Wuya Coomber,and others.  I enjoyed my first year of teaching mainly because the students made it fun. Respectful, energetic, and although many were lacking in educational tradition - they wanted to be there and tried hard. However my teaching as I saw it was stilted, at times lacking in creativity, and at times frustrating. I needed more ideas - more input - and worked primarily on trying as best as I knew how to get the students interested in what I was teaching. From time to time the girls learned despite me. My best students were as good as students anywhere. They learned quickly - helped on occasion to teach their fellow classmates, and were fun to be with. That first year passed surprisingly quick.   With support from our colleagues and principal our first year was wonderful. In the second year of HRSS there were two forms of girls - and the school had therefore a bigger feeling. Our first year the school had an intimate feeling. In the second year, although the school was still small - it took longer to learn everyone's name. In this second year the diversity of the student body became greater as more girls from out of the area came to study.  In the second year I continued teaching general science and mathematics, ran the girls around in physical education, and from time to time took the netball team on school trips to play other schools.At the end I was appreciative that the Holy Rosary sisters had been willing to let me teach at their new school. Here I was a male, and a non-Catholic, allowed to teach at this upcountry all girls school in Kenema. I felt special that they had allowed me to be part of this new school venture for girls in upcountry Sierra Leone. It was enjoyable.

Kenema

Kenema was the seat of the Eastern Province in Sierra Leone. In those days it was a big town by Sierra Leone standards. Freetown – the capital of Sierra Leone was much larger but Kenema had its own excitement. First off it was to some degree remote sitting a day’s drive from the capitol. The old, narrow gauge railroad passed through Kenema, A trip by rail from Freetown could take 24 hours. I was struck by the way in which Kenema streets were organized. Laid out in a somewhat haphazard fashion the town had a somewhat disorganized feeling to it with main streets running in every direction. Downtown streets were paved and for the most part in good condition, and downtown buildings had a new feeling to them with many stores lining the streets with their homes above the stores on the second floor. But the somewhat boomtown atmosphere was frequently apparent where houses and stores could be juxtaposed with large gasoline (they called it petrol) storage areas sitting in their neighborhoods or across streets from them. I remember there being a large mosque at a cross roads in town from which calls to prayer came over a prominent and loud speaker system. Five times a day the speakers called local Muslims to prayer. Other religions had their churches or meeting houses on the outskirts of town. In Kenema Town, the streets could be crowded on a busy Saturday. Fula men could be seen walking about hawking their fine garrah cloth or other items, Lebanese and Indian  stores were open and busy, streets were lines with shoppers, and many of the main streets were busy with motor vehicle traffic. Saturday was a busy time especially in the mornings when most of the commerce seemed to go on. By Saturday afternoons, shoppers had moved on back to their homes or their villages, and downtown streets could be quiet, with very few people. This carried over to Sundays in which a Kenema main street felt abandoned. Sundays were quiet. In the big markets in Kenema shoppers obtained the daily staples such as upland rice or other produce. In the local markets you could buy everything from freshly butchered beef to various sauces, okra, fresh fruits, fresh vegetables, hot pepper, dry fish (called dry bunga), and so many other items. These markets were most busy on Saturdays. We tended to head to Town on Saturdays to do banking – an experience that could take several hours for us if we didn’t get there early enough. All banking transactions were done by hand – and when we deposited our Peace Corps living expense check it was not unusual for us to stand in line for an hour or more before being able to do the deposit. For us – patience became the necessity – you did not rush Sierra Leone time because it did no good. Time moved at its own local pace and impatience just made things worse. On weekdays we might head to town for food and supplies. Once every two or three weeks I would pick up a 5 gallon can of kerosene. Our fridge was a kerosene run operation. At its base was a reservoir for kerosene – and above the reservoir was the burning wick which periodically had to be trimmed. Somehow – this system kept our small fridge cold and thus our food safe. So when the kerosene ran low I made trips to the local supplier to get more. When the wick seemed to be nearly used up – I would see to it that a new wick was ready for replacement. In our neighborhood we could get wonderful bread – and lots of snack food such as roasted peanuts, or fresh oranges, or even – in season – fresh pineapple which they skinned and which you ate like lollipops. Our neighbor’s son – Amadou Bah – the local beef dealer – would deliver freshly butchered meat to us weekly. Our neighborhood sat about one mile from Town on a plateau. At the bottom of this plateau sat a large swamp that separated our neighborhood from the edge of Kenema proper. In this swamp they grew rice and on the edge of it Pah Maju grazed his cows from time to time. There were other times, when the cows would be herded down our road and to other fields for their grazing. If we headed to Town from our house we would walk north on Dama Rd, through our neighborhood, then down the north side of the plateau and by the swamp, finally reaching the edge of town. Reaching the edge was an abrupt change from where swamp rice was being either grown or depending on the season, harvested or planted. It was at this interface that the fine Lebanese houses and shops began, where streets became busy, where cars or lorries might park or drive.

Country Cloth

Pa Brimah Daru

Master Mende Weaver

c. 1970

small country cloth bed spread or lappa (5 ft 6 inches x 7 ft 6 inches)
traditional Mende men's country cloth robe
a large country cloth made by Pa Brimah Daru in 1970 (6ft 6 x 10 ft 6)In Kenema, from time to time we used to run into Pa Brimah, who was a master weaver of country cloth. In Kenema, he might meet us in town as we were shopping and try to sell us place mats for our table. With us he was successful – and sold us a number of place mats that we used while in Kenema and also brought these homes for our use as well as for gifts for our family. I was well-aware of the value of cotton country cloths.

In Sierra Leone country cloth was a very valued commodity. Given as gifts or as part of dowries this was the traditional woven material. The process in making country cloth was labor intensive. Cotton was grown along with the upland rice, and was harvested at the end of the dry season along with the rice harvest. Then picked from its pod, the cotton was then made into cotton thread, and then dyed using indigo dye or kola nut (brown) or left its natural color which was a light tan. The process by which the cotton was made into thread and dyed was in those days felt to be a woman’s responsibility. After the thread was ready this would be handed over to weavers (men did the weaving) who would then set up their simple tripod looms. This often took several days to set up. In rural areas the patterns were most commonly simple stripes of blue and tan. Sometimes the patterns would be more complicated with complex patterns of symmetric designs. And the sizes of the woven material was variable from material that was large enough to cove a small bed (about 3 or 4 feet wide by 5 or 6 feet long) to some that could easily be 3 or 4 times that size. Pa Brima’s place mats, usually had somewhat complex patterns but were clever and made more for the small expatriot market that existed in Kenema.

A weaver would work long, repetitive, and tedious hours, moving his loom along the thread weaving long and narrow bands of material. These long bands when completed, would then be placed side by side and sewn together to make a material that could then be used for bed covering, or in more rural areas for mens country robes, or women’s lappas (the term used for women’s clothing). A Lappa might be 3 or 4 feet wide by 5 or 6 feet long. If there was a small amount of cloth left over, a small country cloth hat might be made.

In our area I knew a number of weavers and visited them often. There were several Fula weavers who lived in our neighborhood. These men tended to use European thread that had been made and colored in Europe and then imported in Sierra Leone. In the village of Bitema I knew two or three weavers who were Mende. Most of these men of Bitema wove material for their own use – The Fula weavers tended to weave material that they later peddled in downtown Kenema. It was the Mende country cloth that I liked the best. It had a rough quality to it – and looked less modern. While in Kenema I began collecting country cloth.

Pa Brimah Daru was an older man when I met him (perhaps in his late 40's), but he was willing to invite me to his home in Daru to see him at work. He had been a weaver for years and reportedly in earlier times had been the weaver of Paramount Chiefs – making for them huge cotton cloth blankets that were both beautiful and highly valued. As pressure became greater to use European threads and dyes the more traditional cotton country cloth became harder to come by. The issue was two fold (1) it was hard to make traditional country clothes – it took a lot of effort and time (2) European cloth was becoming fashionable and to some degree preferred –this despite people still marveling and having an appreciate for beautifully woven Mende country cloth when they saw it. I paid Pa Brimah several visits and ended up commissioning him to make me a very large country cloth blanket. In his house in Daru, a town about 3 or 4 hours travel from our house in Kenema, he turned out beautiful material on his tripod loom which sat on his veranda. He was rumored to have a few apprentices who worked for him from time to time.

Peace Corps Films from my era

These are from my era as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Sierra Leone - Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjI9Hy5xzP0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGsBgtJLsMg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SiIte-1tgJA&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFCXbXO4OA0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsGlxGGnqr0

Masanga Leprasarium

Having done all my premedical education before leaving for Sierra Leone in July of 1969, we decided to stay in country and work rather than go on a trip during our first summer break. I was able to contact Dr Samuel DeShay the general surgeon and chief medical officer at the Masanga Leprasarium in the Northern Province near Magburaka and through him we arranged for six weeks of work there. In early July 1969 we finished our teaching responsibilities at Holy Rosary Secondary School and at the Kenema TTC and then packed up the house, packed a few things, and headed by public transport to the Northern Province and to Masanga. We lived with Dr. and Mrs. Deshay. My job assignment was to meet and type all new patient arrivals at the Leprasarium. This included work with scraping lesions, staining slides of the scrapings, and looking at this under the microscope to see if so-called gram negative acid fast bacilli were present. Dr. DeShay provided me with both books and daily lectures about Leprosy. In addition - Dr. DeShay ran a general medical and surgical clinic there - and for this I was to tag along and learn. Susan spent time with patients doing occupational therpy. Dr. DeShay was an African-American doctor [Loma Linda Medical School] who by then had spent years in Nigeria, and more recently in Sierra Leone. He had barely escaped with his life while in Nigeria during the Biafran War - having made his last run out via canoe to escape. His wife, Bernice, an RN had also spent her entire professional career in nursing in Africa. They were Seventh Day Adventists [SDA's], very serious about their religion, and very committed to medical care in whatever community they were a part of. They celebrated their sabbath on Saturdays, only ate vegetarian food, and were very generous people. So in early July 1969 we arrived at the Leprasarium gate, were welcomed by Dr. DeShay and his wife, and rapidly became part of the health care community that was there. The staff was made up of several Norwegian SDA's who had adjunct responsibilities, of several Sierra Leonean health care workers including several male nurses, and then ancillary staff from drivers, to laborers. All were SDA's or at least most tried to please Dr DeShay each Saturday by attending their services that Dr. DeShay ran. Additionally, Dr. DeShay was an accomplished piano player and spent a good portion of his free time playing his piano that he kept in his home. Most of his music had a religious orientation to it. Dr Deshay's passion for his religion was matched by his passion for his work.

So first day, first hour my work began first under Dr. Deshay's tutelage and then at least as the typing and triage was concerned, on my own. Operating room work included mainly observation as Dr. DeShay had a very accomplished staff of health care providers. For me, the neophyte this was all fascinating and worthwhile. The Masanga health care community was close knit and inclusive - we rapidly became a part of it. We did not participate in the religious aspects. We enjoyed the staff get togethers, picnics, medical trips to outlying community clinics, and to volleyball which seemed to be the main sport activity. The staff was quite serious about volleyball which included weekly competitions with the Soviet Staff that ran the Government Hospital in nearby (12 miles) Magburaka. And I must admit this provided considerable entertainment. We did make runs to the Magburaka Hospital daily. It was on one of these runs that I was to meet their Soviet medical staff. And on this visit I was to learn of their trials as they saw it in rural West Africa. Suffice it to say that the Soviets only saw their purpose as medical, but otherwise looked upon their work as drudgery. They had no interest in local culture. And they were mostly bored. This did occasionally result in over use of vodka - and on occasion when they drove their van to Masanga for volleyball matches this resulted in the need for us to aid them in getting their van out of a ditch. However - the games were lively and fun - the Soviets could unwind - and we all had fun. Afterwards we would all celebrate successes with a picnic get together. When one of the Soviet doctors learned of my mother's mother with Belarus origins (where he also came from) the following week he brought me several picture books of his beloved Belarus. He gave them to me.

The six weeks spent at The Masanga Leprasarium were very special for both us. We returned to Kenema in late August (1969) just in time to begin our teaching responsibilities and our second year at Holy Rosary Secondary School in Kenema. By this time the Kenema Teacher's Training College was in its last years and we continued to teach there as well. By this time HRSS was larger with two forms and with this an increase to twice the number of students. It was good to have done our time at Masanga, but it was also good to be back "home" in Kenema and back teaching. 

Hokey "Kpokpoi"

The photo to the right is of a young girl, about the age of 6, who lived across the road from us. Her name was Hokey, named after the women who owned the house and who was the head of the area Bondo Society. Little Hokey was given the nickname of Kpokpoi which in Mende referred to her prominent chin. She was felt by the neighbors to resemble me and thus they joked that she was my sister. In this photo she is having her hair plaited by a woman named Bonya. This was somewhat of a luxury for a little girl to find the time to have her hair plaited (braided). Photo taken in 1969-70 at #55 Dama Rd in Kenema.The photo was taken on the front veranda. In the background can be seen Pa Karankey's small market. The young person on the left is a young girl named Hawa.

summit March 1970 with Kuranko hat
summit - March 1970
summit 1969
summit of Bintimani (6381ft) - March 1969 - ©  - the large tubular structure behind me marks the summit (highest point)

In March 1969 and again in March 1970 I made two rather challenging trips to the Loma Mountains in the northeast corner of Sierra Leone. Both trips were physically quite demanding - with the first one followed about a week after returning to our home in Kenema by a rather serious bout of Malaria and also hepatitis. The Loma Mountains were quite remote and the summit - Bintimani was about 6380 feet. Travel there was arduous since from Kenema, via public transport, it took a minimum of two days. From the end of the road at Kurobonla the trek began on bush roads (trails) through tiny and remote villages before reaching the base. The last 75 miles by road were treacherous with serious road disrepair, and frequently bridges across streams requiring immediate repair before vehicles could cross. I have written other posts about the many challenges of this last 75 miles - a distance that could take a full day if not more to negotiate. However, there was, for me, a romance about the far north and Bintimani. In our training other volunteers talked of the mountain, its extremely remote nature, the wondrous views, and the friendliness of the people who lived there. A fellow volunteer and I made plans (1969) to travel there  A first day was spent meeting fellow volunteer Skip Smith at his northern province station in Matotaka (near Magburaka). Form here we headed further north to Kabala where we spent the night with volunteers stationed there. It was early on the following morning that we headed east out of Kabala on the very difficult Kabala-Kurobonla Road. This section of road was an adventure itself (I have described it elsewhere). Suffice it to say the day was very hot, very dusty, and given the roughness of the road surface and the bridges - and our position straddling gear in the back of the lorry - we were quite physically beat up (and bruised) by it all. This trip eventually involved us getting smuggled illegally into Guinea - a country that we were not allowed to travel to - involved us sleeping in a remote Guinean village - and also our indirect and risky involvement, by virtue of the lorry that we had chosen, in what turned out to be a smuggling operation of goods into Guinea. However - after a 24 hr journey we set down in Kurobonla. Being ill I was forced to spend a day in Kurobonla before heading up.

The picture above - taken in March 1969 was from the summit.The climate up top was cool (temp in the 70's) and less humid. Down below we had trekked through savannah grass and heat well above 100ºF. As I sat up top, and marveled at the view in all directions, I thought of how very remote we were, and how very far from home it all was.

Mount Bintimani is the highest point in West Africa west of Cameroon.

Merriman at Gbenderoo

© by CF

photo © 

Early in the morning I was headed by lorry (public transport) to the town of Daru to visit with the well-known Mende weaver by the name of Pa Brimah Daru. I remember the day being quite cool for Sierra Leone and quite foggy. It was on the way down Dama Road (the road from Kenema and Nongowa Chiefdom to Dama Chiefdom) that we stopped at the village of Gbenderoo. It was in this village that a Merriman or medicine man lived. Conversant in Arabic, in his small house he made amulets within which were Arabic sayings that reportedly brought the owner good health and good luck. Since the transport made a stop in this village, I paid the man a visit and we talked. There were two pictures that I took - one of him reading the Koran and one, this one, in his house writing, for me, a good health wish in Arabic. Highly respected by his neighbors in the village, they gave him space, and were very hesitant to cross him. [probably 1969]

#77 Pademba Road - Freetown, Sierra Leone

On July 5, 1968 we landed at Lungi Airport, this despite having been refused landing rights by officials at the airport and by the Sierra Leone government. We were a large group of new Peace Corps volunteers who had left Philadelphia the night before with the impression that we were going to be the first in-country training program in Peace Corps history. For several hours we all sat in the plane while Sierra Leone soldiers surrounded our plane and directed their guns on us. Soldiers periodically came on board, machine guns in tow, walking the plane's isle and peering at us. To some degree we were oblivious to the politics of it all. As the Director of Peace Corps Sierra Leone was repeatedly making efforts to get us off the plane and into Freetown, we celebrated that we had "arrived' in-country. I remember the tropical rains that swarmed around us that afternoon. So typical of rain season the clouds were low, the rain came periodically in sheets, and despite the somewhat tenuous situation that surrounded us - we all continued to celebrate. Sure - there was some angst about our sitting in the hot and unpleasant plane on the Lungi tarmac. Perhaps we worried about the soldiers who from time to time seemed to have our plane in their rifle sites. But what I remember most was how unworried we all really were. Maybe some of us thought that this was just how things went on in West Africa. Maybe some of us felt that things would work out. The charged atmosphere that was ongoing in Freetown was unknown to us.

So we partied-on while negotiations to get us in-country went on and on. And at last - in the dark - Freetown lorries arrived beside the plane - we were hustled off the plane - and then hustled up to Fourah Bay College and our quarters for the night - and for the next week. And after a week of training up on the mountain (where Fourah Bay College was located) we went to live with our host family, the Nelson-Williams family of 77 Pademba Road. As you look at the picture below our room was on the 2nd floor and on the left. The veranda overlooking the street was where, from time to time we ate our meals. We had a bathroom in the back. The house was very typical of Freetown. A wooden structure of 3 floors, there was a central hallway with rooms off on each side. Our host, Lottie Nelson-Williams slept on the 3rd floor with her grandchildren. Her husband was confined to the nearby Pademba Road Prison after the April 1968 Coup [Claude Nelson-Williams]. A Krio family - the Nelson-Williams family was well known in Freetown.

77 Pademba Rd - Freetown, Sierra Leone