On March 8, 1999 BBC’s world renowned Journalist Fergal Keane posted a story on life in Freetown, Sierra Leone during that massive rebel attack.—->

 

“At first I thought it was an animal - a beaten dog maybe. A strangulated wailing sound that filled the hotel lobby. A sound you could not escape, a sound full of bad news.

I walked outside, following the direction of the wailing. There in the hotel garden, near the glittering blue pool and the flame trees a man in a red T-shirt was begging for his life. He was surrounded by soldiers - three of them I counted, crowding in around him, pushing and then punching and kicking. A dark trickle of blood flowed from a wound in his neck. I walked towards them with one of my colleagues but they kept punching the man.

Then one of them cocked his rifle and the man began to scream. I understood now why he wailed so. It was not the beating, it was the expectation of imminent death.

The soldiers hustled him away out of the hotel. I did not run up and intervene. I did not throw myself in to the middle of that malevolent swarm. I would like to be able to say I behaved like a hero but I was too afraid.


Thousands have been buried in shallow graves
That is the kind of place Freetown is these days - full of rage and brutality. You move slowly and carefully. No sudden moves at checkpoints. Stop when they tell you to stop. And when they hustle somebody away at gunpoint? Observe, note it all down, remember their faces. But take care not to follow lest they offer you the bullet instead.

Death comes easily

As it happened the man survived. We saw him an hour later by the beachfront. A hotel porter explained that the soldiers had found him fishing on the rocks at the back of our hotel. They accused him of being a rebel spy.

A suspected rebel was shot as he begged for mercy
He told them he was just fishing to feed his family. And then he ran out of words and began screaming. I do not know what saved him. But he was a very lucky man. For this ramshackle city on the golden peninsula is a place of murderous rumours and easy deaths.

We were down at the estuary not far from the Aberdeen Bridge. It was early morning and the clam gatherers were out, wading in the shallows of the Mangrove swamp.

It was a very beautiful morning full of haze and soft light and the call of the birds brought to us on the wind from their nesting places among the mangroves.

And then we saw a group of locals pointing at a spot almost directly beneath us. There was a human shape - bloated and twisted, neither black nor white, but a strange blue, green colour. We moved closer and saw that it was a man.


 

His hands were tied behind his back andhis legs were tied together. There were five bullet holes in his back. It was clear that he had been badly tortured.

The Nigerian soldiers who were escorting us were impressed. “That will teach him to be a rebel,” one of them said. The one who said that was a nice man. He was quiet and cultivated and dreamed of quitting the army and studying sociology in college. And I had no doubt that had he been present during the poor bloated wretch’s final hours he would have added his own bullet for good measure.

Freetown in the time of war. I have seldom been in a stranger place. It is where Graham Greene meets Joseph Conrad. At night, after the six o’clock curfew the Nigerian officers would arrive for dinner, followed by their hungry and weary bodyguards.

Moses (in blue) has been clearly traumatised by the war
And then the girls - Jo Jo and Juliette and god knows how many others. In their teens and twenties, in the long dresses of much older women, they paraded in hope of business. But the hotel lacked the steady flow of customers which would have given them an income.

And so the bored girls would come by our table and keep us posted on the latest gossip and rumours from the town. They were sad, sweet creatures. Jo Jo wanted out - badly. She produced her passport and it showed that she was 20 years old.

In the photograph she was wearing a large west African wrap around her head. “Hey I look like a real African lady hah,” she said, and then laughed at herself and at us and at the whole crazy situation. She had a German boyfriend. But he had gone home. Jo Jo said he had promised to send for her. And she believed him. She believed him.

Later in the night we would sit and drink with the mercenaries. Neil, the white south African who flew the helicopter and Fred - Fijian Fred - the former SAS man and living legend who was his door gunner.

I make no judgement on these men or their trade. Except I knew that neither was any longer in it for the money. They had crossed the line from the mercenary self-interest into belief in the cause.


Children are forced to serve in both armies
Of course, they had seen the interior, flying day after day over the villages devastated by the rebels. And after years in the country I guess they had seen enough of the massacres and amputations and sheer nihilism of the rebels to convince them that here - at the end of their mercenary days - was a cause worth fighting for, something bigger than money.

On our last night in Freetown we bought some fish and cooked them in the moonlight just above the beach. Freetown was quiet as far as we could hear. But then the waves and the Atlantic breezes in the palm trees tended to drown out all but the loudest noises.

“What a country this could be,” said Fred. He was drunk now, but then so was everybody. “What a country. With all its diamonds and fishing and these lovely people. It could be such a country,” he said. I agreed with him and we all raised our glasses for a toast.

And then I wondered what was happening on the other side of the bay at that moment. The art of the bay near the Mangrove swamp - where men are beaten and shot and heaved into the water. It was not that far away at all. Just across the water in fact.”

This narrative review makes me ask: What can we do to create change in Sierra Leone? How hard do we have to work? Will we see the results in our lifetime? We won’t know until
we start working diligently towards making the necessary changes. If not now, when?#TheLifestyleContinues

This was sent to me by my great friend Aisha. After reading it, I felt mentally naked. It broke down Ralph Diesel to a science. People would ask me whats’ going through my mind and I couldn’t describe it in words. Until today. Enjoy.

Ambition.

A lot can be said about it.

How it is innate, almost as if you were born with it.

Kind of like your genes, it’s passed down to you along with the color of your eyes, your stature and your ability to sift thru life’s bullshit.

It can’t be bought and most definitely can’t be taught

It consumes you like a passionate lover that leaves you drained yet ironically sated

the burning taste and smell of success haunts your mind and floods your system fleetingly

you become a slave to it, a junkie scratching the surface for the remnants of an achieved goal

whoring yourself to the possibility of a brighter tomorrow

fueled by a drive that you can not comprehend

challenging yourself to take bigger risks, push the limits, flirt with danger

simply to achieve more than the mere existence of passing the phases…

Ambition…I salute you my drug!

Deep sigh. I love New Years Eve! This is the time of the year where my mental clock resets and I feel like I have a fresh start to make a difference, create history, and chase those realities we call “Dreams”. 2011 was a whirlwind of a year for most of my friends and I. We hit some fantastic ups and succumbed to the lesson teaching downs. All in all we hung in there and survived in hopes of doing things better and bigger in 2012. In January, I returned from my journey to Sierra Leone on a mission to take giant leaps of faith and prove to myself that hard work pays off. Fast forward to this very moment, those huge leaps forward and hard work paid off and have me looking at my son Kingston with butterflies in my stomach. I did it all for him and I’m still doing it for him. Tomorrow starts a whole New Year to solidify his well-being in the future. Tomorrow starts a whole New Year to spread the Royal Dynamite lifestyle globally. Tomorrow starts a whole New Year of Ralph Diesel. Who knows whats to come in 2012? Theres no telling, but I do have a subconscious feeling that there will be many more lessons learned and even more giant leaps of faith to take. I’m excited! Thanks to everyone that has supported me in all of aspects of my Life in 2011. From the birth of my son and engagement to my fiance Kim, to the launching of Royal Dynamite’s online shop, you were there and I thank you. Now, lets set our £¥€$ on the prize in 2012 and go for the gold! Your restart button comes tomorrow (1/1). Press it and go! Time waits for no man. If not now, when? Farewell to 2011. Peace and blessings in 2012. As always, #TheLifestyleContinues!

“When you have a memorable story about who you are and what your mission is, your success no longer depends on how experienced you are or how many degrees you have or who you know.” Blake Mycoskie (TOMS)

This is exactly how I felt especially after my life-changing trip to Sierra Leone in 2010. Just like Blake did, I went to the country and lost myself in the culture and it changed my Life forever. I dont have a plethora of MBA’s or Finance degrees, nor do I have Jay-Z and Brad Pitt’s number in phone on speed dial for celebrity endorsement. However, I do have a great story to tell. My goal is to use Royal Dynamite as a worthy platform to tell that story and spark REAL change around the world to end illiteracy and poverty. It’ll soon come to fruition. Until then, #TheLifestyleContinues.

LateNightsEarlyMornings

I know most people probably wonder, “Why the heck does Ralph keep saying this #LateNightsEarlyMornings crap? Well I was pondering the true meaning of what the hashtag meant to me last night. With the way my Life has shaped, and the responsiblities that are placed upon my back, there really isn’t time to go to bed early and wake up late because I have so many things that need to be accomplished that evening or the next morning in regards to business, my son on his way, my fiance, and Life in general

LateNights = going to evening meeting with business associates, staying up late on conference calls, preparing tasks to be implemented the next day, sending emails, inventory maintainence, shipping/handling RD purchases, getting my son’s room together, planning out tasks with my fiance about what needs to get done for the household, etc..

EarlyMornings = waking up pre-dawn to implement the tasks already prepared the night before, and to get as much done as humanly possible before my next #LateNight session.

It’s a revolving door. Life moves so fast for me nowadays and I work hard to keep up with whats on my plate and progress towards a brighter future. #LateNightsEarlyMornings has gotten me to the point I’m at now and is guaranteed to take me forward. That’s the lifestyle I live now in order to achieve the lifestyle I’ve always dreamt of.

I just sat back and realized “I’m freaking tired”. This can’t go in vain. I had a talk with my mom last night and se said, “Believe me, you’d rather be tired now than later.” wise words coming a wise woman that has seen her successes. On that note, my head is back in the sand for my 6 month boot camp. My son is gonna be here any minute now. My first impression has to be a GREAT one on him. Kill today and live free tomorrow. Peace.

Just a quick excerpt i was just reading. It makes sense! Peep—-> “No revenue, no business. Period. Build a sustainable business for yourself, and not one based on hypothetical acquisitions or imaginary investment capital. If your business can cut it, you may be able to buy other companies down the road or raise VC. But treating either path as a guaranteed strategy is simply stupid. Bottom line: Stop thinking about many tomorrows from now, and focus on today. Cash flow, or die.”

Every day I wake up with a head full of plans and ideas. I go to work and meet with people I respect and admire. But most of all, I love the process of taking an idea and making it a reality! That’s just what I do and that’s how Life is now.

So, I was at the barbershop yesterday, reading while I waited for my turn to get a cut and I ran across this quote excerpt that was rather interesting. Peep game:

“Another obstacle that stops people from being elite entrepreneurs is the tendency to operate in their “comfort zone”, to only seek opportunities that are familiar and local, right in their backyard. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to talk with entrepreneurs who say, “Ephren, I’m making 100K a year, but how do I make a million a year?” Truth be told, it takes the same amount of effort, time, and energy to make a million a year as it does to make the 100K. The challenge is getting those entrepreneurs to break out of their comfort zone and break their addiction to working. They need to realize that, with that mentality, they aren’t entrepreneurs, but just self-employed workers.”.

I know it’s a long excerpt but it was worth the read if you read it the right way. Quick question: What’s better than 100 thousand dollars? A MIILLION dollars. Time waits for no man. Get uncomfortable NOW. #ThankMeLater