United Nations and Sierra Leone: The war is not what scared me!

Chapter 2 — Finding a house

My first days in UNAMSIL were all about orienting myself. The entire setup of the headquarters in the UN was novel to me. In terms of scenery, the headquarters were in a beautiful location right next to the Atlantic Ocean and away from the city centre. The road leading to the hotel is a 3 kilometre stretch directly on the beach providing endless confrontations with gorgeous sunsets and sunrises.

They called the headquarters Mammy Yoko Hotel because basically everything was based around a large hotel that the UN mission took over which had exactly that name. Apparently it was in a terrible state when they first came in to a point that the rebels had ripped out all the wires and even the tiles from the floor. Now most of the rooms had been converted to offices, the swimming pool was in full use and a small portion of the hotel still functioned as a hotel. In the bottom floor they also had a duty free shop called the px where UN staff and local diplomats could buy in U.S. dollars at low import prices all the normal things you would buy in a duty free shop including electronics, and also some kinds of food. I was soon to find out that though Sierra Leone was a beautiful fertile country, vegetables were still a rare commodity, so the px did provide some not so fresh but still available imports from Europe.

In addition to the main hotel building there were surrounding offices made of containers piled on top of each other to form little units that we referred to as container ‘cities’. In the headquarters you can find things that are often scarce in the city. Apparently, all the missions are like that. They come equipped to be living in basically nothing. We had our own generators to provide 24-hour electricity, our own water filtration systems, our own separate phone and internet system. All of these things are provided for the headquarters and it makes the incentive to come to work much stronger, because in the country itself, such luxuries were not always functioning well. The main function of the engineering section that I was working in was to back up all of these systems to the personnel and also the many battalions dispersed throughout the country. My new environment at the UN was like a sub-environment within my new environment of Sierra Leone. It almost felt like I had to learn about two separate new cultures.
After checking in, I was introduced to my new colleagues, my new boss, and the UN system and slowly introduced to my new job. I had come to Sierra Leone as a water treatment specialist. It was quite different from my normal career. I had a Master of Science in Chemistry. I had spent a lot of time doing research in chemistry. The work I was going to do for the UN was actually much easier than anything I had studied. It was just a bit different. I really had no idea what to expect. Even when the job was offered to me the woman in Bonn asked me if I’d really want something so easy. But I just didn’t know. Maybe I could apply my knowledge and actually improve the system. In any case it was a change that I welcomed. Perhaps it was my chance to perhaps improve someone’s life in a visible way.
Before I even began my job, everyone I was introduced to in the Engineering department kept telling me I was badly needed in the mission and my expertise was badly needed. I started to feel nervous since my expertise was not exactly what I would be doing there. It appeared that they had been looking for someone to fill my position for more than a year, and desperately for 6 months. They had problems with funding I later learned. I then remembered that I had actually received a phone call from Bonn about 6 months before asking if I would be interested in such a position. She was trying to explain what the job was and then said she would phone me back to explain. She never did phone back, so at the time I thought it wasn’t really serious.

After checking in, I was introduced to my new boss or ‘chief’ as it is referred to in the UN system. His name was Samuel and he was from Tanzania. My first impression as I met him was that he gave himself an heir of importance and he had shady eyes that seemed to be leering at me the whole time I talked to him. I was also introduced to my new colleagues in the water and sanitation unit. There were four engineers, a number of what they called plumbers (they were all National staff ), and I was the only water treatment specialist. My job had never been done before and it appeared that I was the one that was going to explain to them what my job was. My colleagues were all men. There was David from Myanmar, Mulaki from Tanzania, Kidjo from Benin and Gaur from India. Yes, it really was the United Nations.
We had a meeting in my honour to introduce me to the team and get me familiar with my job requirements. What I didn’t know was that this was a very rare event and it would be the last meeting I would have during my year of work in Sierra Leone. There was no real form to the meeting. In fact in the briefing it seemed more like they wanted me to tell them what to do. That was fine, though on my arrival I discovered I was the first person to do water analysis in the mission. Nobody had been checking the water for the 2 years the mission had been in full function. It didn’t make any sense to me, but I was just beginning to learn how things were managed.
Though it was expected, I became very conscious as I was introduced to more and more people that there were very few women in the Engineering section. I felt a little bit strange. Most of the women working in the department were working as secretaries or administration. I wondered what kind of challenges this would present. I wondered how different the work environment would be with respect to my being female, in comparison to Canada. You hear complaints constantly in Canada about employment inequity. To a point that it feels overdone and the overdone complaints about men sometimes make Canadian men wary of casual flirtation which can make life a little bit boring at times. It’s not an easy thing to deal with because when men do overstep their boundaries it is a horrible thing. But sometimes things do seem to be misinterpreted or exaggerated and it just seems to take the spice out of life.

First priority on the list was to find a house. My temporary guest house was much beyond my budget, so Karim took me to a cheaper guest house the next day that could last a while longer. This guest house was owned by a very bubbly woman with a strong British accent named Suriya. She obviously had African blood, she had an Arab name, and her skin was brown and she had blonde, wild, all over the place hair. I immediately felt more comfortable with my new temporary home.
I figured out Suriya was at least partly Lebanese when I heard her speaking Arabic on her phone. I later found out she was some kind of mixture of Lebanese, British and Sierra Leonean. She spoke English, Arabic and also Krio. She was not part of the UN and yet she seemed so modern and comfortable with things. She was Lebanese, therefore part of the Arab world and this also made me feel closer to her. But like so many times in my life, I felt so ashamed. I felt so much a part of my identity as an Egyptian, and yet the most important part of this identity I was lacking. Here this mixed woman with a British accent and living so comfortably in this war torn country of Sierra Leone could speak better Arabic than me. A familiar internal question plagued me, asking myself what my identity really is.
Suriya’s place was up in the hills and every morning those first few days Karim would come to pick me up to take me to the headquarters. I had no idea where to even buy food and I was yet to find local currency or even to know where to go. The small street leading to her house was full of stray dogs and I still wasn’t sure if they’d smell my fear and attack me as I walked around. While there were so many dogs on the street, it was also as noticeable that on the contrary there were very few cats. I asked the security guard why and he told me they ate the cats as food, especially during the war. He also told me I would notice there were very few birds flying around for the same reason. During the war, there was very little meat to eat, so they resorted to many different types of game food, and had been become habituated with eating it. Strangely enough, just as he was explaining it to me, I heard the distinctive squeal of a cat and a lot of banging from the street. A few minutes later, 2 men walked by with a moving bag that had cat sounds coming from within. He purposely asked them in front of me what they were doing with it, and they replied back “chop chop”, which I quickly learned was Krio for food. They must have seen my surprise and also told me the meat was “sweet”.

The guest house had its own small kitchen, a small salon, my bedroom including mosquito net, an extra bedroom which had no bed and seemed to be used more for storage, a shower, servants that could wash clothes and security guards. There was a generator that she would run after 7pm, though my first days I had no flashlight and by the time it came on it was already dark, and I had to spend at least half an hour sitting in the dark.
I felt very nervous about not having a permanent place to live and had no idea where to look, how I should look, where I was going or whom to ask. I wanted to live with women; I knew that was a priority. I did not want any extra complications and wanted to feel free. In the Engineering section that I was working, it was mostly men. The entire mission seemed to be highly male, since it was full of military.

My colleague Kidjo however, was also looking for a house. I had to be practical and consider the idea, since it would be very expensive to stay in a guest house for a long period of time, and I needed to settle down. Kidjo seemed to know of some houses and told me to think of it. He made me feel silly for being scared of living with men. He said everyone in the UN was like that, I’d have my own room, and we could share money. He started to make me see things in the opposite direction, and told me it’s safer to live with men, because when people know there is a house of women, they tend to disturb them. His offer was becoming more appealing.
The next day after my first day at work, I came home to my temporary guest house and a strange feeling hit me. I felt like someone else was there. I called out “hello?” and received an answer from the bathroom, even though the door was wide open. It was a male voice! I was shocked. Suriya had mentioned that her guest house was made for 2, but I assumed she would tell me and the other room had looked in complete disarray the night before.

Inside the bathroom, my new uninvited roommate was taking a shower, so I shyly waited outside and waited for him to finish. I was deadly shy that it was a man that was in the house with me and on top of it, he was taking a shower. I had to turn around when he called that he was coming out, because he also did not expect my arrival and for a brief moment I saw that he was only wearing a towel and I quickly turned around and stared at the ceiling. At the same time I also felt slightly relieved. I was scared sitting alone in the dark the previous night. There was no form of entertainment either. No radio, no television.
My new hotel mate introduced himself as Tshilomba, and he was wearing traditional clothes from his native Congo. He was in his mid 40’s, athletic build, slightly bald with sprinkles of grey hair, but with a closely shaved head regardless. He had just arrived that morning as the latest UNV. My identification was number 174, and he was directly after me with 175. He also looked kind of lost, but he was friendly and had a smooth deep, calming voice similar to James Earl Jones, the man that introduces CNN’s ‘This is CNN’.

We spent the night talking, and I found he hadn’t eaten anything, so I decided to play hostess. I bought what I could from the px during my first day at work, which was just some bread, drinks and tomatoes and vegetables. I decided to cook the eggs Suriya had left me in the fridge. The first one I cracked and some weird hard greenish substance precipitated to one side of the shell, even though there was no foul smell coming from the egg. The next one was the same. The third one was actually red with blood! I notice the 4th one look expanded, so I ignored it completely because I realized it would probably have a foul smell from gas and was completely rotten. The 5th and last egg, was semi-ok, but still had some of that hard substance on the side. Louis was with me through the ordeal, which I screamed and as usual laughed the entire way through. He decided he would eat the eggs anyway, because there was really nothing else and he was really hungry. I tried my best to make it delicious and fried the eggs with the vegetables I had.

It was the most memorable meal and an interesting start to my new friendship with Louis. As uncomfortable as I was having a strange man share the flat with me, I slept extremely comfortable that night and felt much better than my previous first 2 nights in Sierra Leone. I felt less vulnerable somehow, and like I’d have someone to talk to if I did have problems. I felt just a little tiny bit less alone.

Louis was also looking for a place to live, and asked me what I would do and I explained my whole predicament. He told me Kidjo was right, and perhaps we could all look for the house together, the 3 of us. I told this to Kidjo the next day, and I don’t know how, but he spotted Louis by himself the next day in the px. He had done the same thing with me my first day at the px. Kidjo seemed to know who everyone in the mission was. He was kind of like a cartoon character, always making jokes, mixing many languages together (by his account he spoke more than 12), and wearing an Australian hat and expensive sunglasses wherever he went. His self-introduction to Louis went well, and they agreed amongst themselves again, we’d all find a place together. The 2 men were both African Francophone, so they were happy with this bonus that they’d be able to speak French freely at home. And I knew French, but definitely needed practice, so I decided to take this as an added benefit as well.

My life was about work and looking for a home, and nothing else. The few times that I tried to do things outside of work and home, I never found anything that could really hold interest for me or something where I felt I fit in. Those first nights while Louis and I were still at the guest house were still isolated, but Louis knew some of his countrymen in Sierra Leone that would come to visit. One of his countrymen that worked for UNHCR would come by with his personal UNHCR white SUV, and try to take us on the town. I was really very shy and too embarrassed, but they insisted they could not leave me alone at home. They said this was “African hospitality”, and really insisted. They took me to a night club which was playing only African music called China house.
I was afraid African hospitality meant trying to invite me for beer or something, because this is often what I saw African hospitality was. But there was not, and also fortunately Louis’ friend was a Jehovah witness, so he did not drink at all. We took along one of their mutual friends that they both seemed to know. She was a French woman, also working for UNHCR. From the outside, she looked quite boring wearing spectacles, short hair, and extremely ordinary. She was in her mid 40’s, single, and spent her life traveling around the world working for international Aid organizations. Her preference was always Africa and continually spoke of how much she loved it. It seemed to give her the life her ordinary appearance lacked.
She was wild. She danced in African styles. She was constantly making flirtatious but only meant to be funny jokes with the very married Jehovah witness Congolese man, who ignored it but still liked to laugh. When we got to the club, she made a beeline straight for the dance floor, and completely insulted anyone not ‘brave’ enough to join her. (This included me and the Jehovah witness).

The club was wild. I had never seen anything like it, I found it disturbing. Sierra Leoneans dance very sexually. There was a lot of gyrating, grinding and winding on each other. Even the Congolese were commenting on this, saying in their country the dancing was just more rhythmic, but involved less contact and only now was this becoming a strange fashion in Congo. It is not like I had been living in a closet all my life, and the truth is that I love to dance. They were sometimes piling on top of each other in three’s, all gyrating in a row. But I was not comfortable with this very public and cheap display of sexuality. I was used to this with Caribbean people, but I didn’t expect to see this in Africa. I expected more tradition. It was so bad I even noticed two men doing the same thing. I couldn’t believe it; I thought Africa was a homophobic culture. But China house was where all the Africans in the mission loved to go. They played loud African music, the lighting was dark, and the place was filled with prostitutes and drugs. The country was still under curfew until 12 pm, but the bar would not close. The doors closed at midnight and everyone inside stayed until 6 am in what is called a “lock down”. Fortunately, the Congolese Jehovah witness working for UNHCR had curfew privileges, and was able to drive us home before midnight. I never went to China House again.

After staying in the guest house a total of 5 nights, Kidjo informed us he had probably found us a place. We all went together that evening to a very conveniently located house. The house was only a 5 minute walk from our base of Mammy Yoko hotel. It was in a kind of bad area however, and most of the surrounding houses were very modest kind of slums owned by Sierra Leoneans. The close proximity to the UN base also meant this area had a high density of prostitutes and all the good things that go with such things. The road leading to the house, like most Sierra Leonean roads, was in shambles. It was hard to know when the potholes stopped and the road began and when it rained, it was a big giant swimming muddy pool. There were also dogs all over the street.

But the close proximity to work was definitely an asset. Particularly since none of us had vehicles, and in the Engineering unit where Kidjo and I were from, they were very strict about loaning vehicles, even when it was for work purposes. Louis, who worked in personnel, had absolutely no reason to take a vehicle in any case. So we would not have to go through the hassles other staff members had of radioing for a vehicle, and we might even be able to go home sometimes at lunch or whatever.

The house itself was not completely finished. Only the bottom floor was complete, and the top portion only half done with steel bars poking out, now windows and no paint. It did have a roof. It was actually a very large house. The downstairs that we were to occupy by itself had 5 bedrooms, a dining room, a salon, a kitchen, a large tiled veranda through the front, 2 outside bathrooms, and 2 additional bathrooms that were self-contained in the two largest bedrooms. It was furnished with beds and furniture, but did not have television, radio, generator, or even a fridge that worked very well. The area surrounding the house was also large, full of greenery, and there was the required fencing surrounding the house as was required by UN security standards. It was not high however, and even I felt I could jump over it in places, but at least it was a fence. The place was dirty for my taste when we first arrived. It was clear the Sierra Leonean family had taken the opportunity to sleep inside the house while it was vacant and it didn’t look or smell clean.

The men decided I would naturally take one of the large self-contained rooms, and let me choose which one was better for me. One room was the larger of the two, with a blue theme. What I didn’t like was that the windows were very big and at ground level, so I felt like someone could sneak on the outside and stare at me. The other room had a pink theme, was smaller, but the windows were higher then the head of any standing man, and the bathroom looked a little bit more new. It also had a rickety looking air conditioner, so they tried to make me feel better somehow and told me I could have that room. I was hesitant because of the dirt, and when I opened closed closets I’d sometimes find big huge cockroaches running out. There was also a strange moldy stench all over the house.
The house was actually separated from Mammy Yoko hotel only by a privately owned helipad owned by some Lebanese. Even for private citizens, the only way they could travel to the airport was by helicopter. Twice a week flights would come in at 4 am, and the helicopters would also go. The helicopters themselves were no less than 10 metres from the windows of my chosen bedroom. It was extremely loud, and the lights of the helicopters would also shine directly to the rooms for a few brief moments (at least there was light!). Every time there was a take off, the sand would blow all over the place and you couldn’t stand freely.

The price for the house was certainly not cheap, but apparently cheap for mission standards. They told me it was always like this in UN missions; any suitable housing for foreign staff the price of rent always became inflated and in U.S. dollars. The price of this house was still high, and it had no generator so we would have to buy this from our own money if we decided to get one. Kidjo was sure we could negotiate, and also with so many bedrooms, eventually we could have other tenants to reduce costs.
So we began negotiations with a lady we referred to as “Aunty Amina”. She was the cousin, of the cousin, of the owner, who is a rich doctor that was living in the United States. The men told me to leave the negotiations to them, because they knew how to handle all the matters. They proved to be clumsy, and Kidjo’s way was to flirt with the older lady. She was completely unwilling to negotiate and finally she had her way and we took the house, requiring 3 months deposit — at once. The men forgot to negotiate about the generator, about electricity, about anything. I quietly had to follow, but knew that from then on I would be better at negotiations no matter what they said. At least, we had finally found a house.