A Sad Story

No update on the Ground Pig yet, Abdul Rahman was decidedly absent at 'trap setting' time yesterday - although I am starting to doubt his ability to set the things correctly because each time he sets it the ground pig eats the cassava without setting off the trap!  If we ever catch the elusive monster I will be sure to post some photos.

I feel that I have had a very blessed life with very little tragedy, it was always very sad when a family pet died, but on a global scale I think I have been very sheltered from the storm and have a very different perspective to most people who live here.  This difference is one of the most difficult to overcome and apart from feeling sometimes guilty at how easy I have had it and at times a little silly, it has sometimes made me incredibly sad. 

During our first visit we travelled around in the beloved Defender to several villages to which Winston had affiliations, at each of these villages we would be given a live chicken as a blessing from either relatives or the village chief.  After sometime we had accumulated about three cockrels (they are always cockrels as not to take the egg layers!) tied in the back of the truck, we also had Mama and several brothers and sisters so the vehicle was pretty full.  It was blisteringly hot and as we were making the long drive home the chickens were making a real racket.  I was not dealing with it well, I felt incredibly sorry for these poor cockrels, I was thinking they had been in this hot truck all day with their wings tied and everytime they sqwarked someone would kick them to shut them up.  I began to get really upset and Winston had to stop the truck, everyone came down as I tearfully explained to Winston what my problem was.  Everyone, whilst trying to be sympathetic, was completely perplexed offering even, to kill the chickens now so they would stop making a noise.

In October 2008 when we had been here for about three weeks, I was sitting in Mama's compound with Winston's sisters when an earsplitting scream came from the next compound along.  Of course everyone else ran to see what the noise was all about, I, my English self, sat still not wanting to intrude into what was clearly a personal matter.  After a couple of minutes one of Winston's sisters came back explaining that a young girl's baby was choking, at this I ran to see if there was anything I could do, there were close to a hundred people crowding around the mother and child and I could not get anywhere near them.  After trying to get closer someone came running saying that they were a Community Support Officer (now here that is the term for a senior nurse) so I backed away and returned to Mama's house.  After about twenty minutes someone came to the compound and I asked them what had happened, they said that the CSO had told the girl to take the baby to the hospital after giving no first aid or attempt to clear the baby's airway.  Mama explained that the young mother had been weaning her three month old baby on something called pap (a cornmeal porrige) which involves using your hand as a funnel into the baby's mouth and pouring the pap in.  Inexperienced, the girl had not known when to stop, and the crying baby had inhaled the porrige leading to it choking.

It was 21st October 2008 and the baby died that day before he reached hospital. 

This is only one story and a demonstration of the difference between life in England and life in Sierra Leone, I cried because I thought that the chickens (that I later ate) were uncomfortable in the back of our truck, and this young mother's baby died because neither the mother or the local CSO (a senior nurse!) knew how to turn the baby up side down and hit him on the back, or CPR, something that at least 1 in 5 people in the UK know how to do.  When my daughter was about three months old I took a baby first aid course so I would be sure to know what to do if I should ever be in that position again.

Eleven years of war will certainly dampen a persons sensitivity to death but here there is so much more for people to contend with; illness, lack of medical facilities, lack of money, lack of basic education, dangerous vehicles, dangerous roads, the list is really endless.  Death is also encountered close up here, it happens in closed hospital rooms or closed houses it is a public affair.

My experience here has made me question myself and some of my attitudes, it is easy for me to have such a sensitivity towards the cockrels feelings because of two things I have not been exposed, throughout my life, to death 'close up' and I have never felt truly hungry.

Sorry for the sad story but I think that my blog should be a real account.