FREETOWN // Living in this boisterous west African capital, it is easy to find things to complain about - sporadic electricity and running water, overcrowded streets choked with diesel fumes and pickpockets. But it is hard to deny the city's irrepressible charm.
Dilapidated clapboard houses stand as remnants from a bygone era, while newer concrete and aluminium dwellings pop up between emerald green hills that stretch like fingers to the sea. Rivers tumble down from the mountains through dense neighbourhoods, filling pools where residents bathe and wash their clothes. For a visitor, however, Freetown's best asset has to be Lumley beach, a two-kilometre stretch of white sand on the west side of the city.
On evenings and weekends, locals and expatriates swim and play football as fishermen pull their nets on to the shore. Other beachgoers prefer to simply sit under an umbrella on a plastic chair on the sand at a rustic bar, sipping cold drinks and watching the sun sink into the Atlantic Ocean. If the best thing about Freetown is the beach, the best part of the beach was the beach restaurants. Note the past tense. Last week, as part of an ill-defined plan to develop Sierra Leone's tourism industry, the government demolished them.
Hundreds of army and police officers - some in riot gear - stood by as crews tore down bamboo walls, ripped apart aluminium roofs and uprooted fences. Just a day before, these were lively establishments, serving up fresh grilled fish to be eaten as infectious Sierra Leonean music pumped through the sound system. All that remains is rubble. "Paradise finished," said Papa Yansane, manager of the popular Paradise restaurant. "I don't understand this. Now we don't have jobs."
According to a letter sent from the National Tourist Board to owners about three months ago, their establishments were deemed "unsightly". "Government is planning to undertake a holistic transformation of Lumley beach area," wrote Cecil Williams, the bureau's general manager. The government has yet to unveil the details of its plan, but the letter mentioned planting trees and installing lights along the beach, as well as taking measures to stop erosion. "It is therefore against this backdrop that government views your operations as a hindrance to its developmental aspirations," the letter said.
The restaurant owners argued they could renovate to bring their establishments up to standards, but attempts to lobby the tourism minister were unsuccessful. "We were hoping for discussion," said Umaru Deen Kapu, the owner of Sea View, which boasted a well-used volleyball court. "The minister and his deputies were very arrogant." Although the government owns the beach, Mr Kapu said the proprietors had obtained leases, which they paid annually until this year, when their cheques were rejected. "The National Tourist Board gave us permission to come here."
Mr Kapu said he started out selling cold drinks from a cooler on the beach. He eventually gained enough capital to start building his bar. "I'm a very good entrepreneur," he said, and blasted the government for penalising small business owners in a country racked by extreme poverty and unemployment. His 15 former employees are among about 150 people who worked at the beach bars and are now jobless.
Sahr Mongorquee, a building inspector, said the beach restaurants had been given ample time to shut down operations. The controversy has been simmering for months, but the government refused to compromise with owners. On a local radio station about a month ago, Hindolo Trye, the tourism minister, insisted the bars were eyesores, and were not up to health standards because they had no latrines. Ramatu Osola, co-owner of Ramada's, said they would have installed latrines, but the government refused to discuss it. The government also refused to compensate owners.
"This is the typical Sierra Leone style," she said, choking back tears as workmen dismantled the solidly built bamboo structure. "We have to do what they tell us to do - that's it." The controversy appears to centre around two approaches to development that are divided by a thin strip of cracked asphalt. Across the road from the beach bars, hulking grey concrete masses are slowly rising up, someday to be hotels.
The completed China Town complex features a Chinese restaurant and food market. The second-floor restaurant offers an excellent view of the ocean, perhaps enhanced now that the beach bars are gone. Other restaurants on that side of the road, although not quite as chic, are also permanent affairs, complete with plumbing. "So many investments take place on the other side of the beach," said Mr Trye during the interview on local radio. "It falls within our vision of tourism."
In this sense, the government's decision to demolish the beach bars is not surprising. In urban development all over the world, the interests of big business tend to trump those with little money to invest, even if they lend the neighbourhood a frayed but colourful character. Think Starbucks-led gentrification in cities all over North America. It is possible that the government's vision of tourism will succeed, making up for the jobs lost this month. Perhaps Sierra Leone will become a Caribbean-style destination of five-star resorts and package tours. But at the moment, that is hard to imagine. The country is ranked last on the UN's development index, and tourism consists of the odd backpacker straying off the beaten track in west Africa.
For the time being, the only foreigners frequenting Lumley beach are Freetown's contingent of development workers and journalists, for whom the beach bars were the main draw. To them, the government's decision only underscores Mr Yansane's observation: "Paradise finished." jferrie@thenational.ae
