DJ Focus

Just had to post this. See what Kelvin Doe, a.k.a. "DJ Focus", of Sierra Leone is doing HERE. He is young, bright, and one of our finalists in the inaugural Innovate Salone competition that I was involved in setting up.

DJ Focus at work

To the Picathartes in the Gola Forest

The odd looking yellow headed picathartes. Picture from here.

I’ve been getting into birding lately, and it’s been sent up a few notches since Katie and I were given a bird book by a kind-hearted Dutch birder called Barend. It’s awesome when you meet great people like that; we had only met him once before he sent us the bird book from Holland. Last weekend was probably the best weekend of birding I’ve had yet. Katie and I went to the Gola forest to see a yellow headed picathartes.

Awhile ago we went on a mission to the Guma Valley near Freetown to try and see a picathartes. It is a rare, strange looking bird that hops on rocks and doesn’t fly much. Our bird book says that it is “mostly silent… secretive but not shy”, they don’t mention annoying. In Guma we trekked to the base of a rocky overhang in the forest, sat there staring at their mud nests on the rock face, and saw nothing. Ever since then we’ve had a bit of a grudge against the pica-frikin-thartes, especially Katie, who had been twice unlucky.

However, our trusty guide Kenneth had told us that we would be sure to see the picathartes in Kenema or in the Gola forest. We really wanted to get to the Gola forest anyway, which is a big stretch of conserved land in the South East of Sierra Leone, right on the border with Liberia. So, for Katie’s birthday, which happened to fall on the long weekend that marks Sierra Leone’s independents day anniversary, 27^th April, I tried to organise us some picathartes in the Gola forest.

Our able guide, Kenneth.

I organized the trip to Gola through Kenneth, who took care of just about everything. Kenneth comes highly recommended from me as a both a bird guide and host. We not only learnt a lot from him about birding, but we were looked after and fed excellently. Having Kenneth to haggle for us with the okada drivers and others expecting payment gave a tangible sense of relief. It's kind of similar to how holidays were more fun when mom and dad did all of the organising. You can contact Kenneth by phone (+23276520122) or email (factsfinding@yahoo.com). His business is called "Fact Finding Tours".

In some preliminary research done before the expedition, I came across a YouTube clip of a picathartes, that features a clip from David Attenborough's first ever filmed appearance back in 1955 when he was 28!!! Even better, his expedition led him to the same area that we were going to in Sierra Leone.

We left Freetown for Kenema straight after work on Thursday, and then left Kenema for the Gola forest by okada early on Friday morning. We were joined by another guy keen to see some birds called "the Gooseboy", a Peace Corps Volunteer that had also made contact with Kenneth. The birding started on the road. We saw white necked bee-eaters, palm nut vultures, a lizard buzzard, a red-necked buzzard and a pair of Hartluab’s ducks. After about an hour and half of traveling we reached Lalehun village, right on the edge of Gola North, and picked up a community guide called Moses and a porter for all of Kenneth’s pots and pans that he would use to grill us fish, cook up some relish, and fry us banana pancakes. We didn’t lack much

Kenneth preparing us some lunch on the trail: Grilled fish, potatoes and relish.

Moses, our character filled community guide that I really enjoyed walking with. Here he is with a great blue turaco's feather in his hair.

 We followed an old logging trail, which speaks to the relief that the area is now conserved. All but the deep interior of the forest was logged quite heavily in the last century, before things slowed down in the lead up to the rebel war. The graded sides of the trail showed that it had once been a road, and in places there were large rusted cables that had been used to load massive trees onto trucks. As a result, the forest around us was not pristine. However, it was visibly recovering, with large trees, less than 50 years old, taking over the road with their big, buttressing roots. We heard a rifle fire while we were walking; a poacher collecting ‘beef’. The forest had also been a refuge for the RUF during the war, and a safe passage for rebels coming from Liberia.

Katie, Kenneth and me at the foot of some big buttressing roots, of a cotton tree I think.

The bridges that we used in the forest were built by Moses, completely out of branches and vines.

We walked and sweated our way to a stream in the forest, which had some small rock pools that were cool and obliging. About 30 meters up the other bank of the gulley, hidden behind the trees, was the picathartes nesting colony. Kenneth said that the picathartes became more active at about 5pm. It was also apparently the breeding season, so they were expected to be hanging around in pairs. So, at 4:30pm we headed up to the colony of mud nests for the evening matinee in honour of Katie’s birthday. We sat on the forest floor, waiting silently, staring up the hill at a rocky overhang, which was spotted with empty mud nests. Not a picathartes in sight. We waited, more or less motionless, except for the occasional mandatory bum shift and Kenneth, who was being attacked mercilessly by some bugs. He was frequently flailing his sandal at them, and making a big noise to my chagrin. We waited for two and half hours. As light was fading and I was preparing myself for Katie to declare war on all picathartes, a dark shouldered, white breasted, yellow headed bird with big black eyes and a big black beak flitted onto the rock in front of us. It's head looked like it had a tight yellow Mexican wrestling mask pulled over it. It hopped forwards twice, back again, paused, and then was gone. Soon after, Kenneth pointed out a pair of picathartes perched on a low branch 15 meters away, peering at us through the forest.

It was a brief sighting, but, in the words of David Attenborough when he saw the yellow headed picathartes, “it was enormous excitement”. In the words of Murray Bridgman, it was a “picathartic catharsis”. It was a successful expedition.

A yellow headed picathartes, peering through the forest. Picture from here.

Katie beneath the picathartes nests, victoriously holding a picathartes' feather in her teeth.

 After calming down, we camped in the forest nearby the stream, contented. The forest was alive with the sounds of frogs, owls asnd crickets by night, all good noises. Apparently some scientists had camped in our same campsite recently, studying trees and tree frogs.

We headed back to Lalehun village the next day. Interestingly, the variety of the birds we saw was much better around the village, where the land had been cleared more, giving greater visibility. Trees and leaves really make forest birding tricky. Unless a bird makes a noise, you won't know it's there until you get really close. The birding highlights around Lalehun were a beautiful pair of great blue turacos, a black bee-eater and the broad-billed rollers. Here is a list of all the birds that we managed to see and identify in and around the Gola forest during the whole trip:

·         Hartlaub’s Duck

·         Palm-nut Vulture

·         African Harrier Hawk

·         Lizard Buzzard

·         Red-necked Buzzard

·         Latham’s Forest Francolin

·         Tambourine Dove

·         Great Blue Turaco

·         Yellowbill

·         Senegal Coucal

·         Black Bee-Eater

·         White-throated Bee-Eater

·         Broad-billed Roller

·         Red-billed Dwarf Hornbill

·         African Pied Hornbill

·         Yellow-Casqued Hornbill

·         Brown-Cheeked Hornbill

·         Buff-Spotted Woodpecker

·         Yellow-Throated Longclaw

·         Greenbul (not 100% sure which one)

·         White-Tailed Alethe

·         Chestnut Wattle-Eye

·         Western Black-Headed Oriole

·         Shining Drongo

·         Red-Vented Malimbe

·         Grey-headed Negrofinch

·         Bronze Mannikin

·         And… Yellow-Headed Picathartes!

Dew on a grass roof in Lalehun village on the edge of the Gola North forest reserve, early on Sunday morning.

Doucki with Hassan Bah, in the Fouta Djalon of Guinea

Hyena Rock and a vista in Doucki.

The village of Doucki is tucked behind a rocky dirt road, about 45km East of Pita. Katie and I hired motorbikes from Pita for 60,000 franc each. We managed to find an English speaking bike rider, which was music to my non-french-speaking-ears (Osman: +24465484996). We were headed to Hassan Bah’s place in Doucki, where we had heard reports of beautiful hikes and Hassan’s spunk. The bikes wound through a dusty and dry April countryside, spotted with brilliantly yellow flowering trees and bursting with ripe mangos and citrus. We stopped on the way at a village holding a weekly market to buy some mangos and some locally woven blue cloth. The tradesman that I bought the ‘leppe’ from happened to be Hassan’s brother Abdul. Abdul asked us if we were headed to Doucki – evident by our white faces – and then he helped us to send word to Hassan that he had visitors on their way.

As soon as we arrived on Hassan’s grounds in Doucki we were escorted to our very own open air chill area under a low Fulla-style grass roof, complete with hammocks and a host of children to fetch mangos, cool water, hot water and millet for lunch; it was luxury. We hadn’t been relaxing for long when Hassan Bah himself glided (actually) under the low roof. Hassan gave us a warm and spritely welcome, made sure that we were being looked after to his standard, and then provided us with his old visitors’ book which was full of comments and pictures to inform us of the places that we could go. Hassan has been guiding tours of the gorges and cliffs around Doucki for about 10 years now. At the age of 63, he is still going strong. Peace corps volunteers seem to have been very much a part of the setting up of the establishment, and were evidently now also among the regular visitors.

In the cool under a low Fulla roof.

An extra note on Hassan: he grew up in Kabala in the Northern district of Sierra Leone. Since Katie and I live Sierra Leone and can speak (broken) Krio, we connect well on that. Along with his native Fulla, Hassan also speaks English, Spanish and French. If you want to reach Hassan, call +24462457553. When we were in Doucki the accommodation, food, guided tours, everything, cost a flat rate of $25 per person per day; well worth it.

Hassan Bah just chilling in the Indian Jones gorge, wearing blue 'lepe' pants.

We went on two guided tours while in Doucki. On the afternoon of our first day we went to the ‘Indiana Jones’ gorge, which is a narrow opening in the ground in which you descend into a forested wonderland of vines and roots covering sandstone boulders. Hassan nimbly displayed how we could scale rock faces using roots as ropes. There is a small, clear stream that runs through the gorge, often completely enclosed by the sandstone walls, with red-finned and green-finned minnows in it. Hassan led us to a good pool to dip ourselves in, called ‘the Jacuzzi’.

Roots over the rocks.

'the Jacuzzi'

View from the Bob Marley stage that we passed on our way down the cliff face.

 The next morning we went on a longer walk. It is called the ‘Chutes and Ladders’, and comprises of a 14km circuit that took us down a large cliff face, along the valley below, and then back up the large cliff face to the plateau on which Doucki sits. This time we were guided by Hassan’s brother, Abdul. Abdul led us passed Hyena rock, and then down a path that hugs the cliff face. A stream shoots out of the rock at one point, and the path is largely one with the stream until you reach the ‘Bob Marley Stage’ viewpoint (named by some peace corps volunteers). We dined on locally grown potatoes and tomatoes, as well as ubiquitous tinned sardines, next to a stream that was absolutely teaming with red-finned minnows. Monkeys were playing around nearby every now and then as well.

Katie with red-finned minnows. A bit like Escher's Three Worlds print.

Ladders leading up the cleft in the cliff, back to Doucki.

The path back up the cliff face comprised of a series of ladders following a narrow cleft in the cliff face. The ladders were made from young trees tied together with vines. The trimmed branches of the trees and the vines holding everything together served us the rungs of the ladder. The path looked like one that the ancients had used, and possibly even made. The thick shade, damp moss and cobwebs on the ladders added to a certain mystique. Apparently women commute between villages on these ladders carrying bundles on their heads, wearing sandals, which made us feel less hardcore – we were actually overtaken by one such woman on our way down.

There is plenty of water along the route, and at one point we stopped for a drink at a water source that percolates through the sandstone cliff. There is a sawn in half batta to catch the water droplets, which replaced the 80 year old wooden bowl next to it. The water tasted pristine, which the view added to. There were similar water points dotting the entire route. Although it was the dry season, there was no shortage of water in the Fouta Djalon. It sees enough rain here in June-December to be a major feeder of the Niger, Gambia and Senegal rivers in West Africa. Apparently the Fouta Djalon's beauty is at it's height during the rainy season.

We enjoyed ourselves so much in Doucki, and the journey getting there from Freetown was so long, that we decided to extend our stay by a day. We spent half of the third day lounging back in the Indiana Jones gorge, watching the birds and eating locally made honey on baked bread.

Playing around in Doucki.

To the Fouta Djalon by many taxis

The days in which I am still within striking distance of sweet West African places to journey to are ticking away. I am likely to finish up work in Freetown in July. Katie and I made good use of the long Easter weekend though. We journeyed from Freetown in Sierra Leone to the village of Doucki in the Fouta Djalon region of Guinea last weekend, by many taxis. One of the taxis that we rode had two very special features to it: Some butchered meat tied to the windscreen wiper in the front, and a live chicken dangling by its tied feet from the rear wind shield.

Some meat tied to the windscreen wiper by a palm frond.

It struck me how instantly things changed as we crossed the Sierra Leone - Guinea border near Kambia Town. International borders fascinate me; they remind me that countries are indeed real, and that domestic rulers actually do exert a kind of sovereign power over you when you're in their land. Probably the first thing that I noticed across the border, apart from the immediate switch to French, was the (French) immigration officer's beautiful black mustache - hadn't seen one of those in Sierra Leone - and his not allowing Katie to fill in her own form, because he is chivalrous. Along with that, the music changed, the mangoes changed, the people changed, the land become more mountainous and open and the frequency of military checkpoints increased. Our passports and yellow-fever certificates were checked relentlessly by soldiers, which made me notice how sweet Salone only have policeman manning checkpoints; possibly as a reaction to their soldier-rebel 'sobels' in the war. Taxi drivers still paid bribes at the checkpoints though, with the frequency increased only slightly, but it was definitely done with less slight of hand than the drivers in Sierra Leone; broad daylight exchanges took precedent over the cleverly concealed handshake.
 Katie speaks an invaluable bit of French, but it was still tricky navigating the share taxis. We ended up hopping from town to town, changing taxis each time, clawing our way slowly closer to the Fouta Djalon. After a full 15 hours of traveling we stopped for the night in Seboray, a small town just passed Dalaba. By a great stroke of luck, we found a house open to travelers. We had met some Peace Corps volunteers on the long road, and they had given us the contact of Djouma Fleur (+24466116241), a French speaking, honey selling, well known man in Seboray. Djouma met us in the dark, helped us to find food, and then led us to a house. From our broken communication we understood that we had a place to stay.

Katie and Djouma outside of Nadine's beautiful, round house.

Nice ceiling.

The house is owned by a French woman called Nadine. We never met her, and still don't know who she actually is, but she generously allows travelers to stay in her beautiful private home. She asks only for a donation to her NGO that helps the disabled in Guinea, if you feel moved to do so. Nadine's house probably has some of the best interior decorations that I've seen in a West African home. In particular, the ceiling of her dining room is covered in wicker mats and rope.

The butterflies below are hers too - we saw a lot of these butterflies (alive) in Doucki - and her garden is decked out in bougainvillea and dozens offlowering plants, all well labelled with their botanical names. My garden-hearted father would have loved it.

The next day we woke up early and made haste to Doucki, after buying some delicious local honey from Djouma, made by bees living around the pine forests planted around Seboray. Pines are another thing I didn't expect to see. We nailed that bottle of honey that very weekend.

Fouta Djalon is a whole lot cooler and the vegetation is drier than the lower lying parts of West Africa. 'Cool and dry' is a very relative term here though. We were there in the dry April, but apparently the region has an epic rainy season around June-December, and it is known as one of the water points of West Africa. There are some great pictures of the Fouta Djalon on this blog called the candy trail. The pictures were taken in the lush rainy season. Our pictures were a lot more dusty.

"The Tank"

I made my last visit to "The Tank" in Segbwema for the foreseeable future. The Chinese are building a big road over the spot where the tank is literally rusting itself into the ground. I asked what would happen to the tank, and was told that it is going to get put in the middle of a traffic circle so that bike riders in Segbwema can ride around it at the junction. I'm glad that that's where it's going. It's even better than my mate Dan's plan of buying the tank and cutting it up into belt buckles; a variation of beating swords into ploughshares.

I was reading David Keen's Conflict and Collusion when I was on that trip; it is a decent analysis of Sierra Leone's confusing war. After the war, motor bikes were one of the things given to young men in exchange for their arms and ammunition. Looking past the danger of having ex-child soldiers operating motorbike taxis (which I think about often), bikes are a great way of giving young men an occupation and a way for them to continue looking legitimately cool without holding an AK47; both of which are very important for peace, stability and these guys' integration back into society. I am sure that many of the young men riding bikes around Segbwema's new traffic circle will have had first hand experience of the war, and maybe even of that tank.