West Africa Journal

I sat on my veranda for a while, played with the cats and enjoyed the various birds flitting around in the trees. It was so peaceful after all the Christmas celebrations. Glancing over at the pile of furniture needing to be moved back into my living room I decided it was time to get back to work. Visitors had helped move all the chairs and tables after Christmas dinner but I needed to put the couches and rugs back in. I lifted the small tables beside me that were stacked on the couch. Seeing a large, greenish yellow thing lumped on the couch, various instant thoughts raced through my mind – why is there a lizard sitting there, what have the cats dragged home and left for dead…as I leaned towards it, the hair on my arms stood straight up and I began to shake. It was a spider. Not just a spider, it was a hairy monster the size of my hand, its legs the size of my fingers, with spikes all over them.
I love living in the tropics and I find the various creatures fascinating including the many snakes that roam our compound jungle. The one thing I cannot bear are spiders. And this one was big enough to be classed as an animal! I began to shake with the overdose of adrenalin rushing through my body. The ‘fight or flight’ syndrome was definitely screaming FLIGHT. I obeyed, ran inside the house and slammed the door, expecting the ‘thing’ to come thumping after me. I tried to sort out what to do and chose the ‘call a friend’ option. I knew from 10 miles away he wouldn’t come, with machete drawn, to slay the monster, but I did want someone to know what happened if they found me dead from spider venom. He suggested I lay something beside the spider and photograph it so there would be a point of reference for the size of it. I screeched into the phone at the thought of getting close enough to lay something beside it. My friend told me to be brave, that he would stay on the phone with me. Shaking, I went back outside where the ‘thing’ still appeared to be sleeping. Taking a scrub brush I tossed it towards the spider, an unfortunate decision on my part. It woke up and JUMPED towards me, landing on all of its feet. According to my friend on the phone, I gave a blood-curdling yell that made him think I was being eaten. In fact, I was tripping over cats and upending chairs, trying to get back inside the house, leaving the phone laying on the ground near the spider. Meanwhile he was yelling in the phone, take a picture, take a picture.
I tried to pull myself together and, grabbing several cans of White Death, a serious bug killer and a long handled broom, I peered around the door. I couldn’t see the spider! Now I was sure it was stalking me. I used the broom to slide the phone back towards me and asked my friend if he was still there. He said ‘What? I can’t hear you. I am deaf in one ear from your screaming’. I turned slowly in a half circle, scanning for the ‘thing’ and saw its legs poking out from behind some boards on the veranda. I began to spray as I moved towards it. I moved the board slightly with the broom. The spider didn’t move. I sprayed half the can on him until his hairy body looked frosty with it. He still didn’t move. I began to tremble again as I was sure he was playing dead to lure me closer for his counter attack. I sprayed him some more and waited. When he still didn’t move, I backed slowly into the house, never taking my eyes of it, and slammed the door shut.
My friend on the phone encouraged me to be brave so I took some deep breaths and went back to check and…the monster was gone! I knew it! I knew he had been playing dead. I felt prickles all over my body as I was sure he was going to jump out at me from somewhere and pay me back for spraying him with poison. I carefully poked around the furniture with a broom until I saw him trying to escape off the veranda. I sprayed him some more and waited till his hind legs stopped moving. After half an hour I was sure he was dead, no faking it this time. Still shaking, I shuffled closer to him and took a good look. I went online and checked him out. Sure enough, he was a tarantula. He is ground dwelling (and that will end my walks through the jungle for sure) and even though he bites and the bite is painful, it is not fatal. Tarantulas come in a myriad of colours, can be the size of a tea cup and according the website, they are fascinating to have as pets. I CAN’T imagine. In fact, no one in my circle of friends will be keeping spiders as pets, ok?! In my 23 years living in Sierra Leone, I have never come across one before and hopefully never will again. It was hours before I stopped shaking and was able to move the furniture back in the house. I used another can of spray just making sure there were no spider babies or relatives hiding in it. It will probably be weeks before I sit on the couch again – if ever .

Filed under: Uncategorized on January 16th, 2012 | No Comments »

Happy New Year We No Die-O rings across Sierra Leone this week.  It is easily translated into “We didn’t die this year and we are happy ”.

While most of us who live here or have in the past, we use this as a sort of joke with each other.  Today I am fervently saying and meaning it.

Yesterday I walked onto my front step, intending to make an outdoor pen for my three week old puppies who have taken over my living room.  At the same time as my foot touched the step, my mind registered the dogs’ growl/bark that they use exclusively for snake hunting.  With one foot out the door, I stared in horror at a huge hooded cobra who was on his way up to my door.  In split second thought I tried to remember if hooded cobras also spit poisonous acid. Also in that split second I decided it didn’t matter as we were at a stand -off.  Three of my dogs went into ‘kill’ mode, not caring whether this species spit or not, they knew it didn’t belong in my house. They began biting it, each grabbing a portion of its thick, six foot body, trying to tear it apart.  They are amazing to watch as they kill snakes but this one was a bit big for their usual method.

While I have seen many snakes, I have never seen a hooded cobra with its hood fully expanded.  As it raised itself up a third of its body,  head and hood fully open and tried to fight the dogs, I had to marvel at the majestic beauty of this creature.  I felt sorry for the fact that we had to kill it while at the same time terrified that it would bite and kill one of my dogs as they snapped and bit at it and tried to throw it in the air.  I also was very aware that if it broke free from the dogs, I was probably standing right in its escape path!  I ran back in the house and grabbed my machete and started screaming for the guard.  I knew I didn’t want to get close enough to cut the head off this snake who measured a good 3 inches around and I still wasn’t sure if it was the spitting variety.  Spitting cobras can shoot acid from their fangs and hit the eyes of their targets up to 20 feet away.

The guard came running up the hill and when he saw the size of the snake he said a swear word and I didn’t blame him a bit.  I tried to ask him how we kill something this big without getting close but  he was dancing around, swearing in fear.  He finally raced over and grabbed a huge stick which he tried to hit the snake with in between the swarming dogs.  The snake merely raised up higher and turned its head towards us.  “This is it” I thought, “here comes the spit and I will probably be blinded for life”.  I turned quickly to hide behind the guard but he had already run away. He came back then with  a huge cement block.  As he ran back and forth, trying to get closer to the snake I became afraid he would hit and kill one of the dogs so I screamed at him to wait! 

The snake began to tire as the dogs repeatedly tore at its body, its hood retracted and it dropped its head.  I again felt sorry for it as it knew it was going to die. When it dropped its head the guard threw the cement block on it and the snake stopped moving other than its body swinging slowlyback and forth.  I called the dogs off and handed my machete to the guard and watched a bit  sadly as he cut the head off.  We have many stories of snakes resurrecting themselves after we thought they were dead so we always cut their head off now to be sure.  I usually have the honor of cutting off the heads and in fact I usually do not hesitate to kill the snakes but this one was different. My bravery did not match the size of its body.

Still shaking, I layed the snake out, measured it and took notes on colouring and patterns on its body for identification, impressed again by its size and width. The bit of sadness  in my heart for killing it evaporated immediately when the guard spoke at my elbow – “bad news Mummy Judy, this snake is a baby. There will be more.” I can’t wait….. Happy New Year, We No Die-O!

Filed under: Uncategorized on January 1st, 2011 | No Comments »

I opened a letter that just came in the mail. I glanced at the date on it, and seeing Feb on it, thought to myself “well that took its time getting here” since this is now September. As I began reading the letter I realized the news in it was very old and looked at the date on it again. It was dated Feb 2008! I immediately emailed the person to let them know I had just received their letter.
Two days later our security guard handed me another letter and said people were at the gate wanting to talk to me. I opened the letter to find a bill for my car insurance which had been due and paid last April. The letter was dated March and was reminding me that the due date in April was drawing near.
I asked the guard who was at the gate to speak to me and he said, the men that brought the letter. I decided to go speak to them, expecting to find representatives from the insurance company. I wanted to understand why they were bringing a bill 7 months out of date.
I found two postal workers in a shiny new truck with the Sierra Leone postal service logo on it. They said they came to apologize to me for the lateness delivering my letter. They had evidently opened the envelope and realized it was a ‘bit late’ as they put it.
I have been here long enough to remember stories from living in Kabala in regards to the Sierra Leone postal system, such as one Christmas when none of the missionaries received a single Christmas card. We found later that the postal employees had opened all the cards and hung them on the walls of the local post office because they were so colorful. We had to walk around and look at the walls to see which of our friends and family had sent us Christmas greetings.
Because of this, I wasn’t surprised that these men had opened my mail. However, in order to have something to say, I scolded them for the bill arriving 7 months late. They apologized again and explained that the postmaster, who lived in the village just outside my gate, had died and they found my mail at his house. They thought I would be pleased then, that they were delivering it right to my gate. I said ok, fine but when did the post master actually die, and I emphasized again that the bill was 7 months late. They said, “oh, it was 4 months ago but aren’t you glad we brought your mail right to your house?” Again, trying to get my point across I said – “lets get this straight. This bill was mailed in Freetown in March.” Yes Madam. “Freetown is 7 miles away from here.” Yes madam. “The postmaster that received this mail lived half a mile from here”. Yes madam. “And he received this letter from Freetown, 7 miles away and was supposed to deliver it to me half a mile away.” Yes madam. “And it took 7 months for me to receive this letter”. Yes madam. They stood there smiling at me because they were finally able to deliver a 7 month old letter from 7 miles away, after reading it themselves. I realized I was supposed to be pleased and thank them for their diligence.
While I really wanted to yell or scream and bang my head against the wall) I knew it would not do a bit of good as they hadn’t got the point of my questions at all. Instead, I complimented them on the fact that they now have vehicles to deliver mail, that the postal system is trying so hard and that they, themselves had made such an effort to bring me my mail instead my having to go to Freetown to pick it up. They both shook my hand, smiling from ear to ear because they had made me happy, got in their truck and drove back to Freetown.
I went back in the house and threw the bill in the garbage since it was no longer valid. I again picked up the other letter that was 2 years old and wondered…….
Authors note: PLEASE if you want to write us in Sierra Leone and you want us to receive your mail, drop us an email and we will give you an alternate address to use that is reliable.

Filed under: Uncategorized on September 30th, 2010 | No Comments »

When a flame shot out of the switch on our water pump, my heart dropped. Finances have been very tight and another maintenance problem was not what I needed. I scraped enough money together to get another switch only to find that the water pump was burned out and the broken switch was its safety. Unfortunately parts can not be returned and I felt a bit sick about wasting the money. I began to hope for early rain so I could at least pump water into my house from the rain tank, using a smaller pump. The kids could manage ok without the pump for awhile as they are close to the main cistern.
It rained once and I eagerly turned on the pump only to hear….nothing. The plumber confirmed that it too was burned out. Since there was no money to replace the pumps, for three months I paid workers with used clothing to carry 5 gallon containers of water, climb a very high ladder and dump the water in my tank. Then one of them fell off the ladder and they lost interest in helping out. Laundry and bathing had to be done in a bucket of cold water. I despise cold baths. I despise having to carry water by bucket for every need. I tried to be enthusiastic about the new muscIe tone in my arms but I grew very tired and discouraged instead. Water is HEAVY to carry.
Having company in the house forced me to find a solution and this is where life in Africa becomes unique and unbelievable at times. I borrowed money to buy a small pump to put in my rain tank. It has been raining now for several weeks and the rain tank was full. The plumber installed the new pump and I waited eagerly to switch it on and fill my house tank, dreaming of a warm shower and reducing the mountain of sheets and towels waiting to be washed in the machine. We started the generator, switched on the pump and….nothing. The new pump didn’t work. The plumber assured me he could return it for another one. As he left, I wandered over to the rain tank and looked inside, gloating about it being full to the brim, anticipating the hot shower tomorrow…..What I saw though was the bloated body of a kitten that had gone missing several days before, floating in the tank. It must have fallen in while trying to drink. I called one of the boys to come fish out the cat and with a sinking heart I opened the valve and watched all the precious but contaminated water gush onto the ground. The next day the plumber installed another pump but we couldn’t use it yet as I was waiting for one of the kids to return from town with bottles of bleach to clean out the tank. The bleach hadn’t arrived yet by the time the plumber had to leave. The much anticipated hot shower was becoming a dying dream.
We finally got all the kitten-bits cleaned out of the tank and disinfected it all and then waited for the rain to come. It is rainy season. It rains every day. But it didn’t. It didn’t rain for another 2 days while I waited. And waited.
Finally, 5 days after the purchase of the new pump, the rain came. It was only a bit but it was enough so we could flush the toilets – the first time in over 3 months and it was a joyous occasion. The hot shower…well…after being so long without water I am afraid to waste what we have so I am still bathing out of a bucket but it’s warm and its coming out of the tap! We also covered the rain tank so other animals can’t fall in….

Filed under: Uncategorized on July 18th, 2010 | No Comments »