A woman in China sews protective suits for those handling ebola patients. Photo: Getty
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Status update: the World Service’s reports on ebola

Having listened to the show for three weeks, I am repeatedly struck by its unusually fluctuating tone.

News About Ebola
BBC World Service

At the time of writing, the information and analysis bulletin News About Ebola (weekdays, 7.50pm) had been picked up by 53 local radio partners of the BBC World Service across West Africa – from Sierra Leone’s Radio Democracy in Freetown to Liberia’s Radio Cape Mount and Guinea’s Radio Nostalgie. Known to be a source of reliable information, the show receives up to 3,500 texts a day.

In an email, one of the presenters, Amara Bangura, tells me that the questions from the public cover everything imaginable, not least ebola’s rumoured resistance to a particular brand of rum. Having listened to the show for three weeks, I am repeatedly struck by its unusually fluctuating tone. Using an interview with a World Health Organisation official, a local politician or a person on the street, one programme might be quite formal, almost distant, where others seem to contain the delirium of wounded national identity. Most memorable was a customer at a Freetown market considering the crates of rotten eggs and mould-covered cassava leaves in front of her and saying that opportunists had priced even these too high to buy. And one sharply edited feature at the end of the first week of this month was striking: a UK medic confirmed that up to 600 NHS workers have admirably volunteered their services.

Then to a nurse on the ground in 30°C heat and 100 per cent humidity, describing her protective clothing: “One pair of boots, one waterproof overall, two pairs of gloves taped at the wrists, a waterproof protective hood, goggles, face mask and then a plastic apron over all of it.”

Recent reports that many health workers are prepared to strike unless provided with even more protective barriers couldn’t fail to fill the listener with awe. “Often the fingers in my gloves are full of liquid,” the nurse had concluded, her voice exquisitely neutral. Then she shrugged one simple word: “Sweat.” 

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 15 October 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Isis can be beaten

Gettty
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The mizzly tones of Source FM

Drewzy (male, fortysomething) composedly, gently, talks of “time condensing like dew on a damp Cornish window”.

A mizzly Thursday in Falmouth and the community radio presenters Drewzy and the Robot are playing a Fat Larry’s Band single they picked up in a local charity shop. Drewzy (male, fortysomething) composedly, gently, talks of “time condensing like dew on a damp Cornish window”, and selects a Taiwanese folk song about muntjacs co-operating with the rifles of hunters. The robot (possibly the same person using an electronic voice-changer with a volume booster, but I wouldn’t swear to it) is particularly testy today about his co-host’s music choices (“I don’t like any of it”), the pair of them broadcasting from inside two converted shipping containers off the Tregenver Road.

I am told the Source can have an audience of up to 5,500 across Falmouth and Penryn, although when I fan-mail Drewzy about this he replies: “In my mind it is just me, the listener (singular), and the robot.” Which is doubtless why on air he achieves such epigrammatic fluency – a kind of democratic ease characteristic of a lot of the station’s 60-plus volunteer presenters, some regular, some spookily quiescent, only appearing now and again. There’s Pirate Pete, who recently bewailed the scarcity of pop songs written in celebration of Pancake Day (too true); there’s the Cornish Cream slot (“showcasing artists . . . who have gone to the trouble of recording their efforts”), on which a guest recently complained that her Brazilian lover made her a compilation CD, only to disappear before itemising the bloody tracks (we’ve all been there).

But even more mysterious than the identity of Drewzy’s sweetly sour robot is the Lazy Prophet, apparently diagnosed with PTSD and refusing medication. His presenter profile states, “I’ve spent the last year in almost total isolation and reclusion observing the way we do things as a species.”

That, and allowing his energies to ascend to a whole new plateau, constructing a two-hour Sunday-morning set – no speaking: just a mash-up of movie moments, music, animal and nature sounds – so expert that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in fact someone like the La’s Salinger-esque Lee Mavers, escaped from Liverpool. I’m tempted to stake out the shipping containers.

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle