Building a School, Building a Future 1 of 3

The Yams Farm community is a breath of fresh air

As I drive down the hill I am struck by the beauty of my surroundings. Just outside of Freetown, compared to the busy, messy, smelly, craziness of the city, Yams Farm Warf is like a peaceful haven. Since the rains came and settled the dust, the stark brown rocky hillside explode into green, replacing the dusty gravel with head high grass. Down below the estuary winds it’s way through the knotted mangroves, the life blood of this small community. With shouts of “Abpoto,” “Rhymes” and “Bambalela,” children chase after the big Landrover Bakkie. Grannies smile and wave from their stoeps and men just look up briefly, wiping the sweat out their eyes before continuing breaking stones, repairing vehicles, building or doing whatever it is they are doing.

The Mudblock school/church is extremely crowded

From inside the whitewashed mud walls the sound of learning spills out. Pastor Mark established this church in the predominantly Muslim community a few years back despite being met with death threats and hostilities. The church is used by a small congregation on the week end and during the week it is crammed full with about 200 students on wooden benches with five years being taught consecutively by various teachers. Despite the limited resources, cramped conditions and that there was no government support, the children’s scores in standard government tests were amongst the highest in their district for the two years it has been in operation. After completing the external  pit latrines, we offered to construct a school building as well. A second Gateway group of new recruits would be heading out in November and we would put them to work on the school.

The Design

The initial design of the school

Roof Truss Design

There was a lot input from Helen Clark who is a professional architect back home, and in collaboration with the community we decided on a design, trying to make the largest space possible, for as cheap as possible, without jeopardizing functionality and form. The walls are built of cement blocks  with circular vent blocks being used instead of windows and are strengthened with reinforce concrete columns and ring beams. The roof is a lattice scissor truss structure fabricated from sapling poles, with sawn battens and corrugated zinc sheeting as a covering. The lattice scissor design of the truss allows the walls to be lower, saving on materials, without compromising ceiling height. It also allows good air circulation and lighting and the steep gradient of the roof reflects more sunlight, helping to keep the school from turning into a sauna.

Collecting Materials

Making blocks in preparation for the school construction

Prior to the arrival of the Gateway group, the preparations all needed to be completed so that we could get as much done as possible during the two weeks that the Gateway group were out there. I had to arrange building sand, stone, cement, timber and poles for the roof, door and door frames as well as a long list of other bits and pieces. In order to maximise the size of the building for the money we had, the village elders promice both stone and sand at a minimal cost. They also advised on where to get timber and poles direct from the lumber jacks at a much lower price than would be possible from retailers.

Loading sand from the 'wharf'

Building sand is collected from sand banks in the estuary using a wooden boat which could carry about 5 cubes. At high tide the boat pulls up at the “wharf” where the sand is offloaded. Once the water recedes enough I would reverse the 4x4 Land Rover bakkie onto the mud flat where we would load it up to transport it the 500 meters to the school. A special driveway of rocks had been lade so the vehicles tires would not sink into the mud. The one time I strayed from the path, the loaded vehicle sank to its axle in the sticky goo which looked so firm a few moments before. We had to unload it, dig out the mud and push it free.

The Yams Farm hillside is covered in a red rock. One of the majour incomes for the village is from collecting this rock, breaking it down into small pieces and selling it for construction. Several people donated their laboriously collected piles, one gentleman allowed us to come and scrape up all the gravel from his yard and collect a few loads of rocks which we could then further break down to the correct size. The villagers donated most of the rock for their school and the outstanding balance was purchased at a very low price.

In order collect the timber for the roof, Myself, Pastor Mark and Mr. Abass Kamara headed out into the local villages. Mr Abass guided us down dirt tracks to a small village in a forested area just outside Waterloo. An agreement was made to collect 70 ‘Forest Tree’ planks 2”x6”x12’. Unfortunately the village could not get the poles we needed as the trees were not the right size. All the forests surrounding Freetown had been stripped of this commonly used construction material. We needed a particular species of tree which grew long and straight and repelled wood eating insects, in order to get the right size and species we would have to go further afield. Fortunately Mr. Abass knew just the village and once again we headed out.  Winding down dirt tracks through small villages, we arrived at our destination. Most of the men were involved in the rice harvest, but after a small wait and some minor negotiations, we loaded up 10 dozen ‘fence posts’ and with a further 20 dozen ordered we headed back.


Preparation Work

Casting the schools footings

The idea was that prior to the Gateway team arriving the foundations, earthworks would be complete, all the blocks were to be cast and all the building materials were supposed to be onsite. Then during the two weeks that the crew were in the village, the walls would go up and the roof would be constructed. This would achieve two things, firstly the Village builders would be motivated for the construction through the most difficult part by the excitement of visitors. Considering this was all volunteer community work, it would be difficult to motivate the Villagers once the Gateway crew left. Secondly it would give the Gateway crew a sense of accomplishment. Rather than just digging holes in the ground they would be able to see the walls of the building go up. Unfortunately, we hit some snags, namely changes in the price of sand and a broken boat motor. The Gateway team was just in time to help with the first foundations, and cast the outstanding blocks.
While  the first part of the project did not go quite as per the program, I could only smile and look on what had been achieved and what was coming, rather than what had gone wrong. 

The Road to Bintumani

  

We were on our way! Four of us crammed into the back seat of a taxi we were headed out to Kabalah, a large town in Northern Sierra Leone. Some of the Sierra Leonean volunteers working with us on the Africa Mercy, Mercy Ship’s flag ship, had helped us get onto the right Taxi. They left us hidden in the Landrover until the price had been agreed on so that our white faces did not encourage the driver to push it up. The intention was to catch a taxi to Kabalah, a 6 hour drive away, and then the following day take motor bikes to the base of Mount Bintumani. We would then spend three days climbing the highest peak in Sierra Leone and West Africa before heading back to the ship in Freetown.

Ryan, Ingrid, Nathan and Reka, on the way to Kabalah

“What you must be crazy! That is way too much! Are you trying to get rich off of us?” This is why we wait in the Landover and leave the bartering to the locals. The motor bike chairman was asking for an extortional price to take us to and from the mountain. Eventually we organise a 4x4 for the price we are willing to pay. The remaining 70km to the mountain are all on dirt track that can only be navigated on a bike or a 4x4. Feeling thoroughly ripped off and irritated at how long it took we head off into the mountains. We pass through through villages, rice paddies, streams and thick bush covered hills.

Riding in the 4x4 we past through many villages

The scenery is beautiful, but the road is terrible. After four hours into the trip we find out the road is impassable, even for a 4x4. Four trenches for culverts have been dug across the road and we had no way of bridging the gap. It was still too far to walk and with heavy hearts we turned around and headed back to Kabalah. The fun was not over though and the four of us jumped onto the roof racks of the vehicle and enjoyed the ride. It was quite funny seeing the surprised faces of the locals as they saw the 4x4 driving past with it’s roof loaded with white people instead of sacks of rice.

The road was so bad, we had to turn around, so we drove back on the roof. 

The following day we headed out to Lake Sonfon. This time we managed to arrange bikes for an acceptable price and we headed out with the local motorbike chairman escorting us. As we raced along the dirt roads, the dirt from the bikes in front blinded those behind. I managed to make a mask out of a plastic coke bottle and grass. The others decided they would laugh at me and eat dirt rather than join me. Each to his own I suppose.

Protective glasses made from a plastic Coke bottle. 

What we thought was going to be a pristine lake with animals grazing on the edges and small villages scattered around on the hills turned out to be prime gold mining property. There was a large village of mud huts with palm thatched roofs. Around us were rolling bushveld covered hills. Below us the lake stretched into the distance, a green mat of thick elephant grass. From the hillside it looked more like a meadow than a lake. To our right a huge brown scar was ripped into the hillside where the gold mining took place.

The ramshackle mud huts provided shelter for the gold miners

We met with the headman of the village who walked with us along the edge of the lake, telling us stories of buffalo hunters, Chinese gold miners, and a shipwrecked ferry. He told us how a wounded buffalo would run into the lake and die, but no man would follow it because of the parasites in the water. The old man took us to a small stream where there were some men digging for gold. They showed us how it was done and showed us the small flakes which were nowhere near the size of the nuggets in movies.

After a lunch in the shade of a tree we headed back to the larger mine at the village. The main excavation had been flooded and the commercial mining had stopped. This did not stop the villagers mining though. Along the edges men, women and children waded and dug and sprayed and rinsed, trying to eek out a few flakes of gold.

Gold Miners on Lake Sonfons edge

Cooling down in a riverside waterfall.

After saying our goodbyes we headed back. The scenery reminded me a lot of the Kwazulu-Natal. The grassy hills were perfect for stock farming and the forested valleys were a cool respite from the hot sun. In one such valley we stopped at a waterfall and took a dip/shower. It was great.







In one of the villages on the way back we met a guy who tried to scare us with stories of a demonic monster living in the lake that would come up when called and chase us down. One of our drivers who was a devoted Muslim was disgusted that another ‘Muslim’ would believe such stories. It amused me to see that this, professing to be, but not actually believing or living out, was not something unique to Christianity.

Heading up the Waka Waka mountains

For our final day we headed up into the mountains above Kabalah. One of the local guys who befriended us showed us around. It was beautiful. We spent the day exploring and sampling various fruits. It was probably a good thing that we did not get to Mt Bintumani as we realised that we were actually pretty unfit. After a great day we picked up our ruksacks and headed back up into the mountains. A nice gassy spot between some trees, ontop of the mountain overlooking Kabalah was chosen as our campsite and after flattening out the chest high grass, was really comfortable.

While collecting firewood Ingrid found a scorpion. It was quite funny as I had just warned the others about scorpions and they thought I was joking. That night was great, we spent it sitting around a fire, scaring each other in the long grass and watching the lightning storms in the distance.

Sitting around the campfire, getting ready for breakfast.

On the last morning we headed back down to our B&B, had a nice bucket shower and jumped into a taxi and headed home. Striding down Bad Boy lane towards the ship, singing chariots of fire, we all realised how nice it was to have the luxury of the ship to recover on after a fun week end in Africa.

Life in Freetown, a rooftop dinner

Driving in Freetown is quite an experience. Whether you are actually moving or not. The Clocktower is the central point of congestion

As we slowly wind our way through the narrow streets of Freetown in a Mercy Ships Land Rover bakkie (that is a pickup for any American’s or a truck for the Brits), I wonder why I did not convince my friend to just catch an okada. These motor bike taxis are great for nipping in and out of the Freetown traffic and reducing the time for the 6km trip which is often more than an hour to a mere twenty minutes. The agonizingly slow traffic threads past the clock tower, the single circle that every vehicle going through town must pass, and into the Sannie Abacha street market.

A typical Freetown street corner

Lourens hoots at the pedestrians and the crowds part like the Red Sea before Moses’s staff. The sidewalks and road are choked with vendors selling shoe polish, fishing nets, soap and second hand clothes, all yelling their prices through loudspeakers, or songs. When another vehicle comes the wrong way down the one way, the vendors hurriedly pull their wares out of the vehicles way as our side mirrors brush past each other.

Siaka Steven one of the main Freetown Streets with the Cotton Tree in the background.

We finally reach the cotton tree and it is then that I am glad I am in a closed vehicle and not on a motorbike. The Cotton Tree is huge and has been the centre of Freetown since the settlement was first established by the British in 1791. It is dusk and clouds of huge fruit bats fly out from the protective shadows of the tree and surrounding gardens. As they go they pepper unlucky pedestrians, motorists and the crazy guy who sleeps there in his wheel barrow with guano. Ignoring the roads to the parliament buildings, the government warf and the referral hospital, we continue down along Siaka Stevens road and stop outside of Raju’s Electricals, just up the road from Choithram’s supermarket.

Pravesh is an Indian man who has been living in Sierra Leone since 1991. When he found out I was from Durban and enjoyed a good curry he invited me and a friend around for dinner at his place. Walking up the flight of stairs to his rooftop apartment by torch light, we had to take care not to trip on the uneven tiling. On the edge of the rooftop lined with white concrete pillars our table overlooked the sprawling, noisy Freetown streets. With the Cotton Tree and parliament buildings on one side, the national Stadium on the other and the silhouettes of peninsular mountains as a backdrop, this was definitely on of the best dinner views in Freetown.

Pravesh’s wife brings out some spicy finger snacks. She is a slim, short, kreol lady with a pretty, welcoming face. Enjoying the flavour of the spicy snacks, conversation rolls through various topics. How Freetown has changed over the last 20 years, business, economics, family, marriage, politics, diamonds and war. It turns out that Pravesh and his brother owned an electronics store in Freetown. When the city was ransacked in 1997, the fighters could not get through the shops 1/2” steel shutters, so they launched an RPG into it and then shot up the shot, destroying everything. This happened again in 1999. The second time this happened Pravesh was fortunate enough to be back in India looking for a wife. His mother had lined up 40 prospective wives for him to meet. He rejected 39 and the one he chose rejected him. The difference in culture is very interesting.

Just after tucking into the goat masala with bhakri bread, a church marching band came booming down the main street below. The band was followed by a procession of five trucks. Each truck had a massive sound system on the back of the vehicle, each sound system had different music blasting out and each a crowd of people dancing, jumping singing and shouting along. It was similar to a super club with different dance floors, except you don’t have to walk to the next dance floor, you just stand on the side of the road and let it come to you. Pravesh smiles and says his roof top is the perfect spot to watch anything happening in Freetown as everything goes down that road. Whether it is dancing devils, clouds of fruit bats, the presidential procession, booming church bands, bikes smashing into vehicles, or just Mercyships driving from the team house to the ship, he can see it all from his roof top.

The meal is finished off with a few pieces of papadum bread and we head back to the ship, feeling very privileged to have had the opportunity of seeing a bit of Freetown from a locals perspective.