What's Your Rush?

Here in Sierra Leone, I’ve perfected the art of how to sit around without looking bored and how to yawn behind my hand. Nothing here moves too quickly, especially in Bo, and I’ve had some trouble adapting to the pace of life. For example, if a reporter says he will meet me at 10 a.m., I now know that really means 11 a.m., or maybe later. I was roped into being a judge at a high school beauty contest a few weeks ago and it was supposed to start at 8 p.m. My colleague Chris and I arrived promptly at 8 p.m. – our first mistake – and the event didn’t get going until 11:15. We ended up having to leave around midnight, as we were running a workshop the next morning, but we were told the event ran until 4 a.m. the next morning. I went to have photocopies made at a shop (whose sign said they did photocopying) and I was told to come back next month, when the machine would have arrived. When it rains here, it rains really hard and you have to wait inside until it stops, no matter where you are. I’ve spent many afternoons sitting inside restaurants waiting for the rain to ease up, twiddling my thumbs and playing with my cell phone.

The journalists here often ask me how journalism in Canada is different than journalism in Sierra Leone. There are a multitude of differences, but I usually tell them the pace of news is much quicker in Canada. News breaks and within minutes (and sometimes seconds), it’s on the radio, on Twitter, on blogs and on TV. It’s a race, I tell them, to get the best possible story in the least amount of time. If you take a break or miss a step, you’re quickly left behind. Journalism here doesn’t have that same sense of urgency. Last week, three out of the four reporters didn’t show up to work, so we cancelled the news. At 3 p.m. every day, we all pile into a vehicle that takes us to the radio station, which sits atop a mountain. When we arrive at the station, I expect the reporters to start working immediately, because the sooner we finish, the sooner we go home. But they hang around, chat and tease each other on benches set up outside. Sometimes it can take an hour for them to start writing. I want to snap my fingers and tell them to get to work, but that isn’t my job here. It’s a tricky balance as well, because many of these reporters are underpaid, some not paid at all, so who am I to gauge the appropriate level of dedication to their work?

Everything here takes time. The good thing about having so much time to sit around and wait is the opportunity to watch people. I often sit on the steps of the radio station’s office in the heart of the city and watch people walk by. The little kids stare at me in shock until I smile, and then I’ll usually get a smile back. Young boys try to sell me bras and underwear and women come by with mangoes and bananas. I try to relax and enjoy the time just sitting, although it goes against my nature, which demands that I be productive all the time. The last eight months of my life have been crammed with activity. I wrote a thesis proposal, wrote a second one, revised it 1,234 times, researched a documentary to film China and Hong Kong, applied for internships, interviewed for internships, had some excellent nights out in Whistler and Vancouver, worked part-time at the Vancouver Sun, flew to China and Hong Kong, helped film a documentary, helped write and edit the documentary, finished my thesis, finished my course work, applied for a job in Africa, got a job in Africa, packed up my apartment, packed for eight months in Africa, got five vaccinations and many malaria pills, hopped on a plane and now - here I am.

I suppose it’s a good idea to take a breather.

Comments

[Shira]

"...so we cancelled the news." I love that so much!