Travel Journals

"Impressions--Village People & Health" by Kathy Schulenberg

1700 Words & 6 Photos in 1 Entry

Trip Journals

Hazy, smoky, red-dusty air - perspiration odors - children everywhere – a single tall tree atop a mountain range –  cooking fires consisting of three long skinny sticks and three stones – orange stained palms - the special three part hand shake ending with a touch to the soul.

We came – sixteen of us from the U.S.A., to see how we could help three villages continue to lift themselves up from the ravages of a decade of war.  Did we image what and who we’d encounter- the war stories of hiding in the bush, the destroyed homes, and the refugee camps? We were stunned to see the rusted tank in the ditch as we rode between villages.  Also the bullet holes in the school building brought home once more the turmoil our friends lived with for so many years.

We arrived in a daze to the emotional welcome ceremony complete with song, dance, and banners. We were thrilled to see the many shiny new roofs already in place. Somehow we felt that our recent fundraising had produced the intended result of continuing Jeff’s roof replacement campaign.

After finally settling into our assigned new beds, complete with nets, we experienced our first 90-degree, non-air-conditioned village sleep. In the morning we awakened to the cacophony – goats bleating, roosters crowing, gongs ringing, the chanting of prayers.  Then the murmur of voices began and the village was alive again. We soon became accustomed to this start to our days.

We encountered oodles of children reaching out to touch our hands and then rewarding us with magic smiles.  We saw them marching in lines to school, in uniforms that color coordinated with their two-toned buildings.  Some carried their school stools on their heads.   These children learn by rote –they can verbalize arithmetic sums, and learn simple songs quickly – mimicking inflections wonderfully. They deserve books!  Little boys have closely cropped or shaved heads and little girls sport corn-row braids. Play is the work of children everywhere. We saw children playing soccer with a small ball and a few others rolling a wheel with a stick – (pretending it was a car). Toddlers grasp a small token, a key, a goat’s horn -- who knows what they were imagining? Often we would see younger ones in clean, sometimes ragged clothing wander about on the paths – the children are eventually escorted home by various neighbors – there is an unspoken sense of safety.  It takes a village….

We were awed by the agility of mothers, sisters and grandmothers in looping fabric about their torso to envelope the infant on their back, then to walk regally with any manner of goods balanced atop their heads. We saw beauty parlors on porches - small groups of women braiding each other’s hair. The women wore colorful fabric skirts and sometimes matching scarves wrapped about their heads. The men wore more traditional clothing, shirts and trousers or shorts and sandals.  (Remember Brima’s brown dress shoes?)

The village committee members were filled with enthusiasm and seemed to take their responsibilities very seriously –their strong desire to better their lot was evident. Their zeal and cooperation helped us with our own village research. We found the adults have their recreation also when one morning we came upon the village version of a corner tavern, with two rows of men on benches drinking 3 cent palm wine – probably not discussing current events.

Disease/infirmity was evidenced by occasional crutches, canes, children with mud/lotion on bed bug bites, adults wearing woolen hats and heavy jackets to fend off malaria chills. Not so evident were those who were confined to their beds – unable to get out and dependent on family members for total care.

I noticed a child with healing burns on his feet, and another one limping from an open cut on the sole of her foot. We saw infants with amulets strung about their necks and wrists to ward off illness or evil or both.

We learned to “take time” – sometimes there was no choice – when tires blew out, a log blocked the road, or we had a fuel line problem in our boat. We also learned to “take time” by walking slowly in the villages, both to deal with the heat and also hopscotch over the baby chicks and the goat droppings. 

We witnessed ceremonies/meetings that were always begun with two prayers, the Lord’s Prayer and one to Allah, followed by introductions of all dignitaries, then speeches, and sometime percussion bands and dancers in coordinated colorful costumes. There was a series of translators for our benefit. We learned how some things do get lost in translation:

            "Kakakakakakakaka" = etc.

            "Shit all around"

            "Helter skelter"

            "We are over-happy [or over-glad] to see you."

            "I want everyone present to be here."

            "Dr. Joseph is both a doctor and a teacher because he needs to
              teach the people to take their medicine."

Everyone is welcome to attend any meeting. The children sit on the floor oozing closer and closer to us – by the end of a program we found them sitting on our laps.

We’ll remember the wonderful Sunday service where we watched through the open windows or we crowded into the pews of the church. Boisterous music was accompanied by a full percussion band and a choir.  The sermon “Love Me – Feed My Lambs” was so appropriate to all, but especially to us, the visitors.  When Jim introduced the Final hymn, the congregation had its special way of stretching that last hymn into at least six. Will we ever forget “He Will Lift Me Up” – glorious! The villagers can’t understand how other countries have trouble with differing religions – we all worship God – why the problem?

We had unusual police protection:

• NO SNAP photo policy harshly enforced at new and old U.S. embassies

• Road stop sign “on a rope” operated from afar by the local police
                 

• Our Village Protection by the friendly officer with no hair or teeth, but eye glasses sporting the 3.25 label on the lens and a very official uniform

We’ll remember the farms we trekked to - ½ hour into bush, over streams and marshes.  They were not the organized grids we are accustomed to but yet with a sense of order – trees, corn, rice, ground nuts, and cassava plants sometimes intermingled. We saw the pits where farmers had to “dance” on the palm fruit to release the oil.

 In the ride from Freetown we saw many piles of red rocks graduated in size at the side of the road and people squatting next to them mindlessly breaking the rocks into the next smaller size – there has to be a better way.  The adults in our villages were attempting to begin business enterprises- furniture fabrication, bakery, basket weaving, sewing, cloth weaving, soap making and small shops. Small starts but starts nonetheless.

The peanut grinding machines were a hit with the women - they took immediate ownership and would not even allow the men to move them. They were thrilled with the versatility of the machines and relief from the current pounding process. Hopefully they will learn to use them for processing more of their food products.

The people were all clean and neatly dressed; laundry was always in view – on poles, lines, bushes, rocks, and sometimes stretched out on the ground. Clothing was washed early in the day, in rivers or in pails with crude bars of homemade soap. Women carried water by the pail-full from wells located in the center of one village and from a well two miles into the bush in another village.

We saw some evidence of contact with the outside world – nail polish, baseball hats, sneakers, jeans, battery powered radios, all manner of plastic shoes, a few bikes, and also motor bikes.

Since we spent so many hours in our autos, we named them – Robert’s Benchmobile, Horn-honking Waltermobile, Flat Tire Popemobile, and the White Guy Speedmobile. We also called our music group the Flat Tire Choir for obvious reasons.

Our meals were often incidental – simple food was all we really needed. We ate Spam, bread, water, peanut butter and the always abundant, freshly picked fruits.  We found our bathroom situation to be the most basic interpretation of the word – a bath room.  We began the procedure by dipping our head into a bucket of water placed on the ground – a great stretching exercise - then soaping up, rinsing, drying and dressing only to be drenched in perspiration within the next 30 minutes. We brushed our teeth with toothbrush in one hand and our ever present liter of water in the other. We slept under our nets as directed but didn’t notice the mosquitoes we were warned against.  However, we did have friendly little spiders in the latrine.

The last-day chaos of doling out our few possessions to the villagers was met by the majority with appreciation in accepting our cast offs, but some were a bit anxious about being left out.  They all had given so much to us through the week – the shirts, hats, hammocks, their food, security, constant escorting, daily laundry service – and especially the loving care.

We all had numerous whispered – as well as written – requests for help with education, tuition, books: proof they have the sense that schooling is the best road to improving their lives. 

My last encounter was a quick stop at the clinic in Jokibu to leave our bed linens, where I glimpsed an exhausted 17-year-old girl lying with her newborn child on a bare mattress. My last vision as we left the villages was a young man holding a tea kettle in one hand while brushing his teeth with his new toothbrush in the other. And then, of course, there were the waves and shouted goodbyes as we drove past the last of the homes.

 We must return to aid the villagers to continue the challenging work they’ve begun. Perhaps they may realize they are aiding us to meet our own challenge of helping a few of God’s children in our own small way.

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Girl in wheelchair at Pujehun School

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The security officer hired for the week

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Each village had at least one Christian church and one Muslim mosque.  This Methodist church was in Foindu.

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Some of the U.S. guys in the "Flat Tire Popemobile"

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Happy students outside Pujehun School

Text Copyright (©) 2006 by Kathy Schulenberg.  Photos Copyright (©) 2006 by R. Jewell