'Early Morning Run... Des The Fish'

"For me", he said, in a strong Yorkshire accent, "It's all about the fish, man." I'd only met Des 10 minutes earlier in a bar on Lumley Beach, Freetown. The sort of place where one expat quickly strikes up a conversation with another. A long way from home, you're instant blood brothers...

Early evening, the sun was setting. A cool breeze. High tide. Roy's Beach Bar. Des asked what I was doing in Sierra Leone. How long I'd been here. Working for an oil company, and about three months was the reply. How about you?

Des told me he was on holiday. Now that was strange. Few come here for time off. He said he'd come fishing for a few months. He didn't know when and if he was going home. He'd come to fish. Similar to Diamond Dave, he pricked my interest. Another character, a traveller, a misfit.

Des was a well worn pushing 60 type of fellow. He'd had an arduous paper round as a kid; this was for sure. A lived-in face. Hard earned lines. He had character. Long grey hair. An easy style. He laughed a lot. He also had a funny way of adding 'man' to the end of most sentences. Didn't quite work, he was from Sheffield, not LA. He smoked roll-ups one after another, I suspect this habit wasn't limited to tobacco.

He offered his abridged life story. The way guys do. Want to hear it? Well, he and his life partner had run a successful bed & breakfast in Sheffield for many years. A major falling out happened. In a fit of rage, he murdered her with a pickaxe. She's apparently under the patio. He said most people on the run go to either Spain or Venezuela. Instead, he chose Sierra Leone. He was keeping a low profile in a low-key Chinese guest house, near the beach. He spent his time fishing.

Now I know my first question should have been, why did you do it? Why a pickaxe? Messy? Instead, and I'm not sure why, I asked about fishing... and wondered too about the Chinese guest house...

Kidding, of course, he didn't say he'd killed her. There was no pickaxe, no patio. Had you hooked though? In fact, he'd split with his partner of over 30 years, sold the B & B, and decided to travel with his share of the proceeds. Mid-life crisis? I have two fail-safe checks. First, out of nowhere, and with no musical background, mid-life crisis guy takes up an instrument, usually the saxophone. You're in a house and see a horn on a stand near the fireplace, oh, oh.

The other key indicator is the urge to buy a big motorbike. Because this fellow is in his 40's/50's, he naturally buys all the accessories brand new; meaning ridiculously tight-fitting leathers, new clunky boots with a heel, and a big bright helmet. Now then, visit a house with a saxophone and a brand new Harley in the garage, there's trouble afoot. Only a matter of time, it will end in tears.

Turns out Des had the requisite bike. No saxophone. However, Des was an unexpected pleasure.

As my old Drill Sergeant used to say, you always have to expect the unexpected. He's dead now. Killed by a low flying pterodactyls a few years back. I miss him...

Des asked if I fished. Not really, but I was ready to learn. Sierra Leone is a lesser-known fishing haven. Fish everywhere and catching a Barracuda nearly half the size of your body is not unusual. I know....'how big'. Des said, let's start tomorrow, put a couple of 'rods, man' at the ocean's edge. Drink beer, check the rods every now and again. Anything not to like? The fellow below would have been 116 years old last week. He knew a thing or two about fishing.

Later at the water's edge, Des told me about an on-going dispute with his Chinese landlords. They wanted him out. He refused. He was paying $15 a night. He was going nowhere. He had his fishing gear blocking the corridor along with a double ring gas burner to make his bacon sarnies. The Chinese told him the stove goes. Des said, no way, man. He also had a hole in his roof and the rain soaked through his gear. He even suspected the place was the local knocking shop. He seemed to be the only long-term resident. I stood barefooted, my leather trousers rolled up to the knee, laughing with this mad nomad at the edge of the Atlantic, I considered taking up the sax...

I fished with Des a couple more times. The entertainment was first rate. Des stayed around four months I think, and then moved on, south to Liberia. We all need to know people like Des.

We had some excellent conversations sat with the 'rods'. I liked Des. He was fearless. I didn't see him again after he said he was going upcountry to explore for diamonds. He'd somehow bought all the gear from someone who was leaving. I advised him against mixing in those circles. I said, don't go, man. Catching. There's some hard folk and pitfalls all the way in diamonds, especially if like Des, you didn't have a clue. It didn't put Des off. The last time I saw or heard from him...

As they say, you can always tell a fellow from Yorkshire, can't tell them much though. I suspect he was probably cleaned out. Sierra Leone is a rough and challenging place. The Des's keep coming, a place for dreamers.

'Early Morning Run... Diamond Dave'

Dave smiled at the group, adjusted his ponytail, "I've only been shot down twice," he said, "in a helicopter." Silence.

Graham Greene said on a visit back to Sierra Leone in 1968, "Freetown a home from home for men who had not encountered success at any turn of the long road and who no longer expected it…”. I thought of Dave...

I've written previously of the 3 M's typically found in Africa amongst the expats. Mercenaries, Missionaries & Misfits. Dave is most certainly the latter.

A true character. He currently lives somewhere near Freetown. He's been around West Africa more than 30 years. He's a Canadian. From Toronto. He's nowhere left to go. He's stayed too long. He's recently entered his 8th decade. His girlfriend, a much earlier decade. He dreams of the 'big one'. He's running out of time...

He's made money. He's lost money. He's survived plenty of scrapes. He's had plenty of adventure. If a third of his stories are close to the truth, then he's lived at least two lives.

This is a tale of woe. Double-dealing partners. Flakey investors. Misfortune. Treachery. Conspiracies. If only they'd believed. He wouldn't now be stuck in some West African backwater.

He drinks plenty, not now. He chases women, not so much these days. He talks of menace and violence against those who've betrayed him. If only he could raise $10k for his latest venture, his life would take off. He's mostly bald on top. Has a ponytail, sometimes worn in a tight bob. He wears mostly black...

Diamond Dave has enjoyed previous incarnations. Coltan Dave, Gold Dave, Iron Dave, and more. For some reason, enduring success has never visited. Unlikely now, but you never know... You do, but you don't...

That's the background. Here's the tale. A funny one...

I first met Diamond Dave in 2012 at a private dinner. The second time, a few months later, at a beach restaurant out of town. He joined the group I was with. The regular expat fare on a Sunday afternoon. A long lazy lunch of lobster, prawns, crab, barracuda, and a few bottles of wine. Dave only knew me. We'd met only briefly. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

Go around the table and tell 2 stories about yourself. One should be true, the other bull sh*t. I was worried about Diamond Dave, he'd already delivered a few tall tales. One involved a chimpanzee. Would he understand the concept? Dave was the last storyteller. The mood was excellent. Lots of laughing and banter.

Diamond Dave began his first story. He told of being a carpenter in the 1970s. A sort of handyman to the stars in Hollywood. Barbra Streisand would call him up, and he'd fix her kitchen. Kris Kristofferson needed a door hanging. Rod Steiger, and so on... stunned silence.

Following a pause, Dave proceeded with his second story. This one was about some scrapes he'd been caught up in during various African conflicts. Resulted in him being shot down 3 times in a helicopter. More silence...

Everyone had to guess which story was genuine and which one was bull sh*t...

It's no good Dave, you'll have to tell us. He explained he'd been a sort of carpenter/handyman for a period of time in LA. And... wait for it... he'd only, in fact, been shot down twice. More wine anyone... deadpan delivery. You had to love this fellow.

I once asked him what he'd do if his boat finally came in. Just suppose his latest project/dream actually played out? A million bucks. What would he do? The reply was sad, but also strangely uplifting. Without missing a beat, he told me he'd open a nightclub on a Greek island. He'd invite me to the opening night.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I could imagine it. I really could. Dave would be stood there with a young lady on each arm, a sharp tuxedo, tanned, his remaining hair tight to his head in a neat ponytail, surveying with satisfaction a long line of patrons waiting to come into his club. The club would be called... 'Diamonds'.

I put the chances somewhere between being struck by lightning on a Monday afternoon on the 18th hole following an eagle putt, then surviving a shark attack Tuesday morning, then winning the lottery rollover Wednesday, and finally, and really stretching the odds, meeting a charming fragrant Frenchman for breakfast Thursday...

Diamond Dave, I wish you all the luck in the world. If a future post on this blog is flagged for a Greek island... his boat came in. I wanted to ask Dave if knew the capital of Greece. Of course, we all know the answer to this one. About 27 Euros...

So, something different in this post, introducing you to characters still around these parts. Perhaps the secret is to get out while you can. Don't stay too long. Diamond Dave a loser? Not in my book. I sit with him, I laugh. I always feel better for having sat with him. He's no loser.

Oh, and...

... when you've worked in Africa a long time, you take pride in not being scammed as much as the greenhorns.

Walking along Lumley Beach two Fridays ago with 'Our Man in Port Loko', we came across a 'sad sight'. A woman on her knees trying to scoop broken eggs back on to cardboard trays. She was crying and wailing with an apparent bystander trying to console her.

The 'scene' suggested the trays balanced on her head had fallen. I reached into my pocket and gave her Le 20,000 ($4). We started to walk on, the wailing intensified. 'Our Man in Port Loko' gave her a further Le 50,000 ($10). The lady was grateful and mentioned the Good Lord.

Turns out, when retelling this story, we were not the first to encounter the 'egg dropper'. A pleasure to be seen off.... yet again. In the local argot, 'ow fo do...' (what can you do). Just like Diamond Dave, it brings a smile, and it feels better to have met her.

'Early Morning Run in... Dubai'

I've swapped Sierra Leone, one of the worlds poorest countries for one of the richest. Dubai. Six days in the Middle East, six days out of Africa.

From the bar 72nd Floor, JW Marriott. Worlds tallest building in the background.

I've been in the United Arab Emirates (Dubai is the largest of the seven states) numerous times since the late 80s/early 90s. Sometimes wearing army clothes, sometimes whatever oil companies wear. I've seen the growth in development, and the expansion of wealth, first hand over the past 25 years. UAE became a country in 1971. In the Emirates 9 people out of 10 are foreigners.

Could I swap the grit, the divas, the heartbeat, the soul of Freetown? For what; high-end luxury, comfortable living, shopping, wealth, the shallowness and artificiality of everything.

... bloody right I could, where do I sign?

Only kidding, the real answer in the last paragraph.

I've come from one continent to another for a conference. It's entirely different to my corporate days. Choices are no longer driven by loyalty programmes, points on BA, hotel gym facilities, or keeping up appearances with peers. Could I swap my existing more frugal approach, sitting next to the tail gunner, feeling virtuous, the divas, keeping it real? For what; business travel, a fantastic hotel, the shallowness?

... bloody right I could, where do I sign?

Only kidding, the real answer in the last paragraph.

Just popping out into the hot air for a 20 mins leg stretch.

I'm back. Phew. Hot. I met Mohamed. He appeared on the side streets, looking like Omar Sherif, with a big bushy moustache and wearing a red baseball cap. He brandishes an iPhone 6+. Do I want it? Er, yes I do. Says he has the box and everything. What could go wrong? Tells me it's mine for a thousand D's. Do I want some cheap gold? Er, yes I do. Handy birthday prezzie for 'O'. Rolex? Mohamed, be sensible you're overdoing things. I tell him the iPhone is a possibility. Forget the rest. Best price time. We're quickly down to 500 D's. £100. Bargain. Change my mind at last minute. Enjoyed the banter, but have a blog to write. Mohamed, you're starring.

Th location for this post is a Starbucks in Deira, 'old' Dubai. Late breakfast with plenty of coffee is the order of the day. Some of my former shipmates reside here. 'The Mexican' took me to some expensive watering holes until the early hours. Many thanks as well to 'The Gambler' for the other night...

The significant differences between Freetown & Dubai? Let's go with the similarities instead. Here's my top 10.

1. The expat divas here are something else entirely. Here they're called 'Jumeirah Janes' (an exclusive suburb where they live, want to live, or say they live). They potter around the super malls all day on high heels, wearing designer shades indoors, carrying huge designer handbags; they keep busy at the hairdressers, the spa, the beauty salon, upmarket coffee shops, the large SUV, bitching about their useless maids to each and spending their wealthy partner's cash. Who'd wish for a life like that? My divas back over in Freetown? Never.

Then there are the 'FILTHs'. Meaning 'Failed In London Trying Here'. Quite a few of them around the bazaars.

2. No one pays tax in either country, in one people should.

3. People in both locations get stuck in traffic for hours every day.

4. Terrible driving is a national sport. Zebra crossings are only, so ambulances know where to pick up the pedestrians.

5. Dubai has less than 20cm of rain a year. Sierra Leone has that in an hour during the height of the wet season.

6. There are few house numbers, street names, or addresses. You need to know descriptions, landmarks, be able to tell a visual story. I used taxis every day. Taxi drivers are great folk in both countries.

7. Crime is 'officially' low in both. You also wouldn't want end up in prison in either. Both are friendly and liberal until you cross a line. Don't expect to cross that line then tell everyone what your 'rights' are. You'll likely have somewhere between few and none.

8. Both have super malls. Here there's the 'Dubai Mall'. 1,200 stores. Massive play areas. Huge aquarium. Skating rink. Waterfalls. Fountains. Designer stores. Cineplex. In Sierra Leone, we have the 'Freetown Mall', with a working escalator, a handful of shops, one of which sells furniture...

9. Dubai has a self-proclaimed 7-star hotel. The Burj al Arab (Tower of the Arabs). Shaped like a sail on a private island with a helipad on the roof. In Freetown, on my first night, I saw seven stars... through my hotel ceiling...

10. Both governments take Friday off.

Like I say, many similarities.

In closing, an immensely enjoyable trip to Dubai. So, where would I prefer to be? Has to be the place with the happiest people, the one that makes you laugh the most. Readers, that is Freetown.

Mind you, the last evening in Dubai? JW Steakhouse, a beautiful cut of tenderloin with pepper sauce, homemade fat chips, sautéed broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, a lovely bottle of Chilean white, followed by a cheese board and a glass of port... My best meal in over two months.

'Early Morning Run... A Farewell to Arms'

Title? A nod to Hemingway. He also maintained keeping the first paragraph short.

The real title, 'Farewell to Talisman'. Later.

Remaining on Hemingway for a moment. He once made a bet claiming he could write a story in six words. On a restaurant napkin, he wrote, 'For Sale: Baby Shoes. Never Worn'. He collected his winnings.

My best effort. 15 words. 'Lost Dog: Missing one eye. Missing one leg. Neutered. Answers to the name of 'Lucky'. OK, not entirely in the same class.

'A Farewell to Talisman Energy'. 8-May 2015. The sale to Repsol finally closed. I haven't mentioned Talisman previously. 14 years service, until end 2013. A sad day to see such an excellent Canadian oil company being taken over. Not too many years ago; well, more likely the other way round.

So many memories. Some wonderful times. I learned so much coming from the British Army. I'd never had a real job. The Army is a laugh, an adventure, a journey, a vocation, with a few scary moments thrown in along the way. It turned out the oil sector was similar. OK, perhaps fewer laughs.

The real glory years lasted until a significant management upheaval in 2007, which afterwards began the slow descent towards, 'se vende'. I worked for, and alongside, many special people. Dr Jim Buckee, the CEO, led the company superbly. A group of people who represented the best of Canadian values at home, and overseas. My first posting with TLM was in Sudan. I lived in Khartoum more than four years (below, boat trip on the Nile). The most protracted ten years of my life. I later lived in Calgary for four years. A pleasure.

How do you get 43 drunk Canadians out of a swimming pool? Pause, 'please leave the pool'. That's why I love Canadians. The fact being, this old joke was like a badge of honour.

The final day three weeks ago rekindled many flashbacks.  Of Sudan mostly. Sudan was constant drama and the investment mired in controversy. The company had an early inkling of a bumpy ride ahead when a Cruise missile landed in Khartoum, courtesy of Bill Clinton. Some claimed the target was a chemical weapons factory. Others said a distraction over a certain dalliance in the Oval Office. An oil company Security Manager later commented, if the old warehouse near the Nile was a chemical weapons factory, then his backside was a fire engine.

However, throughout the company never wavered and always did the right thing. We all knew what the company stood for. We all knew the values. I was proud to work for them. TLM successfully defended a massive lawsuit, which ultimately went all the way to the US Supreme Court. Sudan saw four rig attacks by SPLA rebels, land-mines, helicopters shot at, an armed attack on the main field base camp (Les, get off the phone, take cover) and plenty more besides. In the words of Cpl Jones, there was a war on (below, Bentiu, southern Sudan, 2001).

The Army took me all around the world. TLM, on a second lap.

Below, the first visit to Kurdistan, May 2008, sadly a couple of years later several ex-pat sub-contractors died in a hotel fire in Sulaymaniyah.

Colombia saw 23 seismic sub-contractors kidnapped by FARC in 2010. Never a dull moment in overseas oil exploration (below, cocaine all around us, in its rawest form).

Peru, drilling in the Amazon.

Vietnam. Indonesia. Malaysia, Algeria. Papua New Guinea (below). Trinidad. Qatar. I worked them all, and others. These were the fun places. I haven't mentioned UK, Australia, Norway, the US & Canada. Dull in comparison.

My final piece of the Talisman story was a posting to Sierra Leone in Sept 2011 (below, testing out my 'jokes' for this blog in the southeast of the country). This posting first brought me to Freetown. After one dose of malaria too many I left TLM and co-founded a company here. Six months later; well, we were in the iron grip of Ebola. Those are the breaks.

Many former TLM folk read this blog, many of whom supported the 'Food Basket Appeal'. Canadians are amongst the most generous in the world. Many have, of course, left the company due to downsizing and the eventual sale, and are forging new careers. To those remaining with Repsol, especially you Frankie, I wish you all the best.

I've paused writing about Africa to provide this backstory. Back to the regular soap soon.

Africa? Last week a 'funny' story from Guinea. At an Ebola checkpoint, officials became suspicious of a fellow in a taxi. He was wearing a white shirt, jeans, hat and sunglasses. He was propped up among others. He wasn't saying much. He was dead. He'd died of Ebola. Others were illegally moving his body. They are now in quarantine for 21 days. Should they survive, they'll be charged and probably go to prison. I know this is no laughing matter, but...

Where next for the blog? Next Sunday, it's hello Dubai. A conference with a friend. The contrast will be immense. Only twice away from West Africa since Sept last year. I'm ready.

I hope my love of Africa comes through. But, and I have to tell you, while this love is all well and good; time in Dubai, can't wait...

A Postcard From Ghana

"This bus go," said the Chinese fellow, "to Bintumani Hotel?" Presumably his first time in Sierra Leone. Perhaps his first time out of China. He looked worried. I said, "Bus take us to boat." He said, "This wrong bus, I go hotel. No boat." I explained we have to take a boat across the estuary. 30 minutes. Then taxi to the hotel. He said, "Wrong bus, I pay $40." I tell him we all paid the same. Thankfully an Indian fellow in a rather grand purple turban stepped in. "When I arrived in 1995 there was a war on, we had to be carried out to the boats on shoulders." Helpful? The Chinaman was utterly bemused. He sat with his bag tightly clenched between his raised knees and his folded arms. I tried to visualise this strange place through his eyes. Difficult. Freetown is complete madness... right up there on the barmy-ometer.

The crossing... entrance into Freetown.

Last Tuesday I arrived back to 'Dodge' from a terrific week in Ghana. The divas by now are fully prepared for me waxing lyrical about any other African country I've recently returned from. I normally race through a list of wondrous things I've witnessed. Traffic lights, power, buses, bus stops, power, pavements, pizza ovens, street lights, smooth roads, power... Actually, Senior Diva had to handle me by herself this time. Baby Diva has taken an extended vacation to visit family in the US. Baby D, we miss you. And to show just how much, this from a beach bar in Takoradi... made me think... Senior D on the right?

Then they glance at each other. You know the look the telling glance. The divas both see where this is heading. Yep, I continue; Accra, I could live there. Bingo. Previously. Dakar - I could live there. Abidjan - I could live there. Monrovia - I could live there. Conakry (Guinea) - I could ...no, never in a million years. Wouldn't wish on my Mother-in-Law. Another glass of wine as I'm editing this and I may rethink. "Gertrude, how about a holiday in Conakry, it's great...you and Harold would love it..."

Ghanaians are open and friendly. They want to know what you think of their country and where you're from. I don't say England. For conversational purposes, I tell Sierra Leone. There's usually a pause. A taxi driver the other day made the ghost sound from Scooby Doo. Whoooo.... Freetown. Ebola. I quickly changed tack and ask how things were in Ghana. Bad was the reply. Why? Power comes the response. Now when it comes to whinging and whining Ghana is right up there. Not quite in Guinea's league, but up there all the same.

They explain to me just how 'bad' things are. In some areas of Accra there's currently light for only 12 hours a day then nothing for 24 hours, and so on. All the government's fault, they say. They are useless, they say. The President will have it fixed by the end of the year, they say. You're lucky, I say. Come and live in Freetown for a week, I say. Then you'll have something to complain about. In fact, try Conakry for a long weekend. Oh, and my Mother-in-Law's in a home there, could you possibly visit...

I like Ghana a great deal. The country that's geographically the closest to the centre of the world (the notional centre, 0°, 0° is located nearby in the Atlantic Ocean). The powerhouse sub-regionally. A relatively wealthy country, certainly by African standards. Hence the current problems are hitting hard. They have high expectations and a burgeoning educated middle class. Some countries in the region can only dream of Ghana's success. No country is a land of milk and honey. Ghana is no exception, everything's relative. Most West African countries are similar in their reliance on natural resources.

'The Gold Coast' achieved independence from the United Kingdom in 1957, becoming the first sub-Saharan African nation to do so from European Colonialism. It became Ghana...

However, like many others, it's susceptible to commodity prices. Prices are down across several sectors. Gold is one example. Oh, and Ghana is the second largest cocoa producer in the world. Come on, let's fly south to Takoradi...

Short flight on 'White Knuckle Airways'. 25 minutes. We're now on the south coast of Ghana. Takoradi is one of the two major ports in the country. Timber, manganese, bauxite in the past, shipped out by train. The mothballed train station appears to have been suspended in time. Fascinating.

Now it's all about black gold. Oil. Ghana discovered oil in 2007 and is currently producing over 110,000 barrels a day. This is set to increase. The windfall for the government is significant.

I'm delighted to report Takoradi is a boom town. So it should be. Takoradi is the regions leading oil hub outside of Nigeria. Plenty of employment, proper infrastructure, good hotels, local companies supplying the oil sector, a significant port under expansion. All good. A boom town. There remain links to traditional industries, fishing... (need something like this in Basingstoke to provide some character).

An old Slave fort, of Dutch origin (1640)...

Finally, the last post I told you of Sally Hayfron Mugabe. Sally died in Harare 1992, aged 60. She came from Takoradi. She and Robert were both teachers. They were married 31 years. A son also died of malaria here, aged 3. As told to me, Mugabe last visited 2007, with his current wife, Grace. The story goes that she wasn't allowed over the thresh-hold when he called on his former family to pay his respects. Apparently quite a rumpus at the time. She sat in the car...

I've thoroughly enjoyed Ghana again. In the back catalogue, you'll find previous posts, featuring Accra and Tesano.

Back here in Freetown, the Ebola crisis is nearly done, only a matter of time. We've had eight straight days of zero new cases or deaths. A case two days ago broke the run. To be declared Ebola-free we need 42 consecutive days with zero new cases. As I say, only a matter of time.

Other good news as well. Air Chance recommences flights to Paris 30th June. Kenya Scareways, a crucial regional carrier, resumes in two weeks time. This will help open up the region. Life is gradually returning to normal. Within two months the country should be celebrating, similar to the scenes we witnessed in Liberia last weekend.

The 'Food Basket Appeal' has funds remaining. I plan to wrap it up with one further donation. Something involving children. I'd like to write a special post, just about the appeal. If possible featuring some of the folks and updating on what's happened to them since. Remember Yayah? Emmanuel Cummings? Nurse Isha? Many others. Something uplifting to mark the end of a tumultuous 12 months.

Where next? Hopefully back to the UK sometime next month. Senegal also a possibility for June. Dakar, I could live there. Senior Diva - just for you.

Follow on Twitter for more stuff and photos: @roadrunnertns

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday...

A previous unfinished post I was working on over the recent holiday, hence the title. I'm currently in Accra. 'A Postcard From Ghana' in the works. Decided to finish-up this one first. Here goes...

A recent article made me think. Favourite feel-good moments? Was it really about the simple pleasures in life? Turned out it was. Apparently taken from a BUPA survey based on 2,000 replies.

Responses included; sleeping in a bed with fresh sheets, feeling the sun on your face, people saying ‘thank you’ or a random act of kindness by a stranger, a bargain at the sales, having a nice cup of tea (this was a British survey after all), dancing like no one is watching, freshly made bread, having time to yourself, and laughing so hard it hurts; these were among those simple pleasures.

Got me thinking of simple pleasures in West Africa. I was discussing this with Senior Diva, who incidentally is letting this new hair thing go right to her head. Now sporting a ginger comb-over. Life and business in Sierra Leone presents a constant challenge, particularly over the past 12 months. What about those simple pleasures? The good bits? In no particular order, apart from the first one...

1. Electricity

2. Water coming out of the shower (Rigsby - take note)

3. Internet speed on fire, relative term

4. African sunrise every morning, realise how lucky I am

5. African sunset every evening, realise how lucky I am

6. The divas smiling faces, every morning without fail. Their laughs...

7. Running down Lumley Beach at dark O clock, just before first light. Seeing the Atlantic Ocean from somewhere in Freetown every single day

8. The short drive to my run start point as Freetown begins a new day, listening to Kris MacCormack. Listen to Kris with the windows down stretching under the palm trees. It's dark, it's cool, then setting off along the waters edge - that's the exact moment...

9. The sound of ballistic rain on a tin roof in wet season and feeling secure, providing of course your house doesn't leak. However, the bad boys are more active in wet season. They once called on me in the middle of the night, late 2012. Took a new flat screen TV, a DVD player, my 'Little House on the Prairie' box set, and the air conditioning control unit. Left the TV remote behind. I was pretty upset, I was only half way through the box set... I did draw some comfort in the fact they couldn't change channels...

10. The unfailing and amazing happiness of Freetown residents, most of whom have little or nothing

11. This conversation I have most weeks at a certain Police checkpoint late on a Friday evening driving home;

"Good evening officer"
"Good evening Saah"
"How are you this evening?"
"I'm doing fine Saah, it's very cold" (about 23C every night)
"Officer, you and your colleagues are doing a great job, thank you"
"Thank you Saah, but we have no sugar for our tea"
"That's a pity, I wish you a good night. Keep warm"
"Goodnight Saah"
"Goodnight officer"

The officer in question has a chubby round face with a smile that could light up any room. He tries for 'something' every week (not necessarily sugar). I smile as I drive away thinking we'll do all this again next week. I'd miss it. I'd miss him

12. After nearly 4 years (come Sept), and for the first time, I have an apartment with a plumbed in washing machine. The distinctive double bing when a load finishes. Ahhh...now that's a real feel-good moment

13. Taking my once dirty sports kit out of the washing machine, holding to my face with both hands. Smelling it. Joyous! Hang on a minute, that sounds, er... a little... er, strange. Three and a half years of laundry being done on a washboard does this to one... I haven't taken to sniffing other peoples laundry yet, is that the next step? Johnny Admin?

14. Downloading a movie from iTunes in a week or less. When you finally reach that 4.5 GB, it's a real punch the air moment. Last evening was 'The Shawshank Redemption'. Always good to re watch a classic movie. The 5 day struggle is worthwhile, just to hear those classic words, 'get busy living, or get busy dying'. Not only the words, but the whole scene, the piano soundtrack; to be savoured even when you know what's coming next...

15. Laugh out loud moments in Freetown that sometimes lead to tears. Funniest place in the world... we laugh a lot...

16. Finally, and it could have been top. The day I leave to England. Time off. That 9 mile boat ride across the estuary to the airport. Boarding the plane. Traveling home to see family. Seeing 'O' for Organiser, 'H', & Cup Cake. CC is delighted to share her name with the recent birth of a Royal Princess.

There you have it. Tried to keep it to 5, then 10...

'A Postcard From Ghana' is next up. The post is set in Takoradi, in the south of the country. Regular readers will be familiar with the cast of characters, and references, which frequent this blog. Rigsby, the Divas, the French, my mother-in-law (full moon the other night, she was pretty active), the Lebanese Chuckle Brothers, The Belgian, Belgium, Robert Mugabe, Taggart, Peter Pan, Our Man in Port Loko, Johnny Admin, Lifeline, past guest runners, and numerous others. I mention this because...

...well, and would you believe it, Robert Mugabe makes a return in the next post. Turns out he was a teacher in Takoradi, back in the day. He married Sally, a young Ghanaian teacher. They lost a 3 year old son here to Malaria. He couldn't attend the funeral, by this time he was in prison for 10 years. Sally remained loyal all the way through, she died in 1992. They were married 31 years. This came out at lunch the other day, what a story...  

Postscript: A favourite Mugabe joke to finish, from an earlier post last summer.

Barack Obama, David Cameron (congrats; couldn't have imagined inserting Ed Miliband into my joke) & Robert Mugabe are in a boat in the Atlantic, when suddenly the boat discovers a leak. They have only one life jacket. Obama says, "Let's do the democratic thing. Take a vote to see who gets the life jacket." They each write a name on a piece of paper and stuff it in a coffee can. Obama & Cameron get one vote each; Mugabe gets six.

Time to... get busy living...

Oh, and follow on Twitter, more photos, more stuff: @roadrunnertns

Just when you thought it was safe...

...to go back in the water. That we need a bigger boat. A tremendous shock happened yesterday. OK, not quite 'Jaws', but scary all the same. What could it be? Well, how about catching, completely by accident, your mother-in-law in her oversized bloomers? Sacre bleu. Last time I saw that much silk, I was dangling underneath it. Will undoubtedly have a lasting effect on me...

Let me try and push that frightening image, and thoughts of parachuting, completely to the back of my mind...

Let's instead return to 26th March. The day before lockdown. The second school donation. 40 more children. 40 more sets of text books. 40 more stationary packs. 40 more school uniforms.

Great news. A real turning point. Schools in Sierra Leone have been gradually reopening this past week. Including schools containing the 80 children we have assisted. Attendance countrywide has been patchy. Will take time to return to normal levels. Schools have been closed for 9 months because of Ebola.

A definite turning point, patchy or not. New cases recorded last week numbered just six. The lowest total for nearly a year.

However, we should not forget that in Sierra Leone nearly 4,000 people have died from Ebola. There's been over 12,000 cases. Heartbreakingly more than 9,000 children have been orphaned. The human cost has been incredibly high.

Let's get on with the school delivery. What about this little fellow? Let me introduce Emmanuel Cummings. Year 4. Confident, bright, and complete with his dad's waistcoat. Lovely welcome speech too. Tucked under Emmanuel's arm is my welcome gift. See final photo below. My turn as the Senegalese lottery winner.

As is custom we begin with prayers. Followed by succinct welcome statements. We had a good chairman today. The speakers focus on the importance of education. They mention the problems. Schools in poor repair. Poor hygiene and sanitation. Often no latrines. No running water. No electricity. Leaking roofs. Poor pay and incentives for teachers. Overcrowding. Sometimes 3 classes in the same room. Poor security, no perimeter fencing. Often two shifts of children a day. Young children working outside school to help support family budgets.

The positives. The children are a happy bunch, same as most places. They don't know what they don't have.

We have sufficient funds remaining for perhaps another 2 - 3 donations. We look forward to those. Never believed for one minute that we would endure this long. Thanks once again to everyone who has contributed and made this possible. Thanks as always to both divas. Talking of which, Senior Diva has miraculously grown hair since we started all this, and Baby Diva has a new member of the team arriving in August. Quite the 6 months...

Great work again as well by Violet from ‘Save the Needy Sierra Leone'. Such superb organisation, commitment, and good humour, especially at short notice. Thank you Violet.

Senior Diva above. Emmanuel, I know, I've been there...

As for me, I'm currently in UK enjoying Easter break. 3 weeks. Good rest. Good family times. Taggart, my tight-arsed Scottish neighbour, is in China cheering up the locals no doubt. Highlight of this break is tomorrow. Travelling to London by train. Reading vs. Arsenal; FA Cup semi final at Wembley. Reading's first since 1927. Taggart was in short trousers. Let's hope the wait is worth it. 'H' is pretty excited.

Next Wednesday (22nd April) return to Africa. A quick hello to Freetown, then to Ghana end of April. Looking forward to Accra. Couple of previous posts from there. Next one as well.

See you in Ghana.

Don’t forget to follow on Twitter: @roadrunnertns

P.S. Thanks Emmanuel...