Today is chock-filled with moments; moments that I wish I could bottle up and share with you somehow. My camera takes video, but doesn’t record sound, and suddenly that’s KILLING me. I so wish for you to be able to hear people talk; not only the way they speak, but the passion and personality that come through their Liberian words.
I’d been looking forward all week to getting out of Monrovia and into the countryside, so I have to say today was my favorite so far. Midmorning found us crammed in the back seat of a pickup, bouncing our way toward Gbanga (pronounced "Ban-gah"), in Bong County. The roads are actually pretty good for decent stretches at a time – they’re just, uh, punctuated with washouts that call for serious slow-downs and swerves. With us were Gladys, Siafa (the agriculturalist from Diversity Farm – hooray!), Mr. Salunteh, the County Administrator for the MOA, and an amazingly jerk-y (in both senses of the word) driver.
I know you’ll be surprised to hear this, but I peppered all four Liberians with questions about plants and animals throughout the day. When I first asked about a type of flower they pretty much laughed at me and said, “In Africa, we know ‘flower’, ‘bird’, ‘tree’ and so on, but we don’t worry about the names”. So an ongoing joke for the day was a variation of me asking, “Oh, is that a Red Flower?” and them laughing and saying “Yes, yes. That’s a red flower”.
After about three hours we stopped for a few moments at Mr. Salunteh’s home, and then drove on to Gbanga, where we got to see his office, and examine the detailed map of the county. There we discussed what villages and areas had the most potential for independent agricultural development if they had better market road access and storage.
(Right now, farmers may bring a basket of produce to market, and in the morning asking for a decent price. But buyers tell them to hold off, and basically wait till the farmers are desperate to sell in the afternoon or evening, so farmers end up making no money or losing it on the enterprise. Storage would solve this problem, but this is one of the reasons folks are not currently motivated to produce beyond what they need for subsistence).
Mr. Sulunteh is very enthusiastic about addressing these problems, which is why I think he’s been so helpful to us. Then we took off for one of the villages that recently has had a road developed for them. On the way, we picked up James S-Saah because he knows a lot about agriculture in that area. I was impressed with this: Mr. Salunteh gave up his seat in the front of the pick-up to Gladys, and went to ride in the back of the pick-up with James. I don’t know how other government officials are, but he continued to impress me with his low-key, listening approach to everyone we met.
We left the main road and bounced our way to a place where they had a gazebo-type pavilion. Here Mustafa asked James a bunch of questions, and then we walked to the nearby village. On the way Mr. Solunteh said to me, “You know, there is one type of grass that we do identify. It’s called ‘Homework’”. Mustafa found out why not too much later when he walked through some and a bunch of little sliver-type seeds stuck to his pants: “Homework” exactly describes it!
We stopped to talk to some boys that were hoeing in a cassava field,
and then in the village a bunch of the village men came to meet us (the village chief is on the far right). We asked them about agricultural infrastructure and what would most help them and – more particularly – the villages beyond them that do not have roads like the one we had used to get there. Interesting stuff. We headed back to the pavilion where Mustafa could ask Mr. Salunteh and James more questions (and they could try almonds for the first time).
Siafa and I talked to a woman who was pounding cassava and he explained the process to me (it’s really interesting – ask me about it sometime!). Then we walked over to a well – doesn’t it look fine?
I’m sure in someone’s report somewhere it says that a pump was installed in that village and it’s listed as a success, but the pump is completely worthless. It doesn’t have a valve in it. But more than that: whoever constructed it didn’t record on it who dug it it, when it was dug, how deep it goes, what organization sponsored it, or anything. I guess it’s ridiculously common for folks to dig wells during the rainy season when the water table is high, and those wells are worthless in the dry season when they’re most needed. Golly stuff like that makes me almost as cranky as the driver! Almost.
We drove Mr. Solunteh back to his house, and began the 3 hour ride back – punctuated with a lovely Snickers break. This was thanks to Jen, who had insisted on sending them with Mustafa on the trip. We all saluted her as we mowed through them.
Unfortunately, the trip ended with our first potentially serious flub-up with our unfamiliarity with the country and customs here. The driver had been complaining the entire way about pretty much everything, and one thing he was upset about was driving us back because he’d get back so late. I can imagine that that wasn’t a fun prospect, so I really don’t blame him for not liking the idea. He was Mr. Solunteh’s driver, and since Mr. Solunteh had set up things this way, we didn’t interfere. But apparently he was seriously ticked about the arrangement. We dropped Siafa off, and then wanted to drop Gladys off. But he spoke to Gladys and she said he’d said no, he’d drop us off first. Later we found out that we really should have insisted – he was so mad by the time he dropped us off that he left her off in the middle of the city, and she’d had to walk home a long way at night – something we’ve been told repeatedly is really dangerous. We both feel terrible about it, and can’t describe how glad we are that she made it home safely. We simply had no idea that such behavior was a possibility. Lesson learned – hopefully for good.