Kono is the main diamond mining district in Sierra Leone. The origin of Blood Diamonds is right here. Even today, the buildings that were damaged and or destroyed during the rebel occupation and war still pockmark this small mining town. The streets are mostly unpaved, or the roads have more holes than pavement. Burnt-out buildings are the testimony to the tragedy this place experienced and endured. I will not mention the names of the foreign and domestic mining companies which reap large profits from the area and give nothing back to fix this town up. This is a small town, about the size of Nevada City. It really would not cost much to improve basic conditions. Labor is cheap (one to two dollars a day per worker) and because it is a mining town, there are giant bulldozers everywhere. How hard is it to grade the damn roads? Sorry about the language, my bum is sore. I have a team who works with me here. My driver is the chauffeur for an ambassador who is currently overseas. He is a portly man in his early 40s and loves to laugh and talk. He drives me crazy, but is trained in combat driving and is trustworthy. My security man is from State House and is on loan to me on my trips in Sierra Leone. He is one of the presidential guards, special forces and a famous, highly decorated war hero. He is 6 feet, 4 inches and 260 pounds of lean, mean, fighting machine. He is called the “Night Tiger” by both his men and the population. During the war, he would go into the rebel jungle areas alone at night and hunt down the men who were raping, torturing and killing the local villagers. But he is a gentle soul, and a good friend. My life is in his hands. The other member of my team is a local Kono woman. She comes from a powerful family, but has led a tragic life. Her mother died when she was a small child and her father, who was the police chief, was executed by the rebels. They shot her father in the head as they forced her to watch. She was just 15 years old. She is my government go-to woman. Many of the ministers and government officials are related to her in one way or the other. Whatever I need from the government, she can get it done. She is an intelligent woman, around 30 years old, short, and with a bad temper. She is never afraid to express her anger at officials (or anyone else) who is foolish enough to block her way. The remarkable thing is, she gets very complicated documents properly prepared and registered, even though she is completely illiterate. Today, we received the report that there were no new Ebola cases in Kono in the last few days. This was good news. I dared to go to an Internet café. I never thought I would say this, but it was a scary place to be. There were seven old computers in a windowless, 4-foot wide, 15-foot long, depressingly dark and dank room. The chairs were a mere three inches from each other and if someone sneezed or coughed, there was no escape. It took me an hour to do my work. As soon as I left the café, I sanitized my hands a few times, and went back to the hotel as it was nearly curfew time. All the hotels in Kono are closed, except the one at which we are staying. My team are the only guests. When you go though the massive, orange steel gate of the hotel, you are greeted by the smiling door man, who just happens to have an AK-47 slung across his chest. There is no air conditioning, Internet, TV, or hot water. They turn on the electricity at 7 p.m. until 6 a.m. The food is edible, but you wouldn’t like it. Home sweet home. The Lebanese, who own many of the hotels and businesses here, have abandoned the town. All their workers were fired, many without any money to help them get through the trials and tribulations of Ebola. I am the only white man in town. People are shocked to see me. I do not see any doctors, nurses or NGOs anywhere. I would like to think that is a good thing, but I know better. Maybe we should send 4,000 troops to Kono. There is no unrest here, but the town could use the customers. On a different note, I find it very interesting that war, disasters and disease have their own morbid humor associated with them. The driver and my security man watched as an ambulance with lights flashing and sirens wailing went speeding by us. Our driver said there is a shortage of ambulances in Sierra Leone. When the medics get two calls for an ambulance at the same time, they pick up both patients. If one of the patients did not have Ebola when he got into the ambulance, he will certainly have it by the time he gets out. This, to them, was very funny and they laughed excessively. It was the same kind of humor and laughter one finds among soldiers, when soldiers have to cope with the carnage of war. It’s so funny, you could laugh until you cry a river.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 17:02:49 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015