Early Days

As humanitarians would say, I 'deployed' three weeks ago with a suitcase full of alcohol gel from dad, a 6-pack of Handy Andies from mum and a guitar, a last minute purchase from Amazon. In hindsight, I'm not sure that teaching myself how to play the guitar in the middle of an epidemic was the best idea I've had, but it certainly wasn't the worst.

Connecting in Casablanca, my initial thoughts were that the plane to Sierra Leone would be empty as who in their right mind would be heading that way? I was wrong - the airport was full of young, white, European NGO workers all congregating in eager huddles talking about life post-Ebola.

So here I am in Africa again. West Africa this time, with a humanitarian NGO not a development one and during the 18th known outbreak of the viral haemorrhagic disease, Ebola. In truth I see very little of the real Sierra Leone. For an hour each day on the drive to and from the Ebola Treatment Centre (ETC) I see the country that is my home for the next 6 months through the windows of an air-conditioned minibus. It looks very similar to Tanzania in terms of poverty and social structure judged only by the simply constructed houses, the scantily clad children and the goats and dogs making unpredictable forays into the path of oncoming traffic. But actually it is much lower down the UN Development Index with a life expectancy of only 45 years and a GDP per capita of $1586. Sierra Leone sits at position 183 out of 187 countries on the Human Development Index which takes into account a long and healthy life, knowledge and a decent standard of living.

The remaining 23 hours a day I am either at the ETC officially working or at the hotel unofficially working. By that I mean many of the most productive conversations about how to improve the way things work at the ETC are done on the journeys to and from it or over the table at breakfast or dinner. Most people here are on secondment from the NHS for 5-6 weeks so the passion for talking about Ebola doesn't wane. Ten minutes ne'er pass without a mention of work, one of the patients, national case numbers or Ebola in some context or other.

The ETC

We are incredibly lucky to stay in lovely hotels due to a lack of other local accommodation that could house so many staff. The Place, The Sands and The Palms offer varying levels of comfort and privacy with upgrade from one hotel to another forming the main bone of contention between us 'deployed'. Politics are rife and relations are tested if someone moves further up the beach before you do. Heaven forbid should somebody get a room at The Place without first staying at The Palms or The Sands. The Place has become the epicentre of our lives outside the ETC. With 24 hour electricity, air-con and Wi-Fi, The Place is also where all meals are served and where minibuses to and from the ETC depart. I think this goes a long way to explain why people would exchange their first born child for a room here. Needless to say as an old hand with three weeks experience, I am comfortably interned in my shiny room at The Place where the bathroom is bigger than my bedroom in London and the hot water rain shower and mini-fridge make it hard to believe that outside the hotel walls is one of the poorest countries in the world. 

Our bosses are protective of us and we aren't encouraged to leave the hotel grounds. Several people have made a break for it and gone for runs along the beach but it's only a few kilometres before an estuary blocks the way and you have to turn back. One person who shall remain unnamed escaped all the way to Freetown for a night but this required much planning and friends in high places. As the daily routine remains the same, the weekdays and weekends merge into one and life in Sierra Leone becomes much like that of Groundhog Day or The Truman Show. Only usually without the cameras unless the BBC pops by again...