Never Loose Hope

One of my favorite things as a total newcomer to this beautiful crazy place has been the sayings on the backs of taxis. So we started trying to catch photos of 'em as we'd drive along. Usually Mustafa was in the front seat, so I'd see one and toss the camera up to him quick, and Abee would slow down while Mustafa tried to get the picture. Toward the end of the trip we got pretty efficient at the process!

Here are the photos we managed to capture (with a few non-taxi ones thrown in for good measure).

Can't believe it, really....

Today was all about wrapping up details and heading out. We stopped by Samaritan’s Purse, a good-sized and highly regarded NGO based here (not far from our guest house!). The Shanks had connected us with Bev, a program director for them. We talked quite a bit about living an expat life in Liberia, and how they manage various projects – great info. There’s a small group of women that meets to hang out and surf (!!) that she’s a part of, and that I could maybe tag along with if I come back. Here are Gladys and I outside their compound.

Chuck, a pastor in Florida who’s lived here and comes back every year to visit, has been another guest at the guest house on and off during our time here. He asked if he could ride with us to the airport. Of course we said “of course!”, so here we are packed into our car – a fitting way to wrap up the Liberia experience!

Many good-byes all around and we were off. Can't believe it, really...

[We arrived in Brussels, Belgium at 5 am, and - since our flight didn’t leave till 10:30 - we took a train into the city and bashed around the early-morning streets a bit. Here are some photos – definitely a place it would be great to explore more! So sad that not one chocolate shop was open at that early hour… I did get to try a Belgian waffle and take a picture of (what I think was!) Brussels lace….]

last full day...

Today had some of the bustling back and forth that has been fairly normal for us here. Our cancelled meeting from yesterday with the Deputy Minister of Education, Mr. Zarzar was still on today for 11:00. We had a really helpful meeting with him and LOIC and IRD (our partner organizations), and he connected us with a Ms. Pratt who focuses on school feeding programs. It will likely be she who we work with as we determine which schools will get focus. After the meeting Mustafa and I waited in the colonnade outside the building for Abee and Gladys. It was HOT so Mustafa told me to hold the expression on my face while he took a picture!

We then took our final trip “upcountry” – this time to Cape Mount County to look at one of LOIC’s technical skills schools. Since we will probably be using trainees from the program for the renovations, it was a great opportunity to see some of what they do. The students were all done with class for the day when we got there, but they must have held them back so we could see them – a tad awkward! But it was great fun to see some of the stuff they’re learning – small engine repair, hair weaving, masonry, tailoring, baking, and carpentry. We also stopped by a day care that is provided by the school so the students can attend class. All of the programs are 9 months long, and students leave being pretty competent in their trade of choice. James, the guy who had picked us up from the airport, is the administrator of the Cape Mount school. So after the students left we peppered him with more questions about how the program is run. Well – actually Gladys and I did, while Mustafa and George hammered out more details of the agriculture proposal.

The teaching staff at the school make $150 a month, regardless of their skill or level of education (very frustrating if you have a high level of education!). Because many of the students come from far away, the instructors often pay rent for them out of their own pockets, just so the students can attend class. Often their pay is delayed for up to two months because of administrative run-around with the grant that funds the school. James talked about coming down to Monrovia on Friday – the next time he’d have internet access. As we asked how some of these details could possibly work, James would explain, “it’s sacrificial, it’s sacrificial”. He’s been doing this for five years, and we get the sense that he’s getting pretty burned out with the role. He has his master’s degree and probably feels qualified and ready for something different.

We ended the day with a stop by Gladys’s sister’s home, where she’s been staying while she hangs in Monrovia. We got to meet her mom and sister, brother-in-law and ADORABLE nephew “Win”. (They had tried for five years to have a baby and had given up when he came along – hence the name!). It was great to put faces to names and chat with them for a while.

My laptop thinks its still in Wisconsin. The clock reads 7:06 PM, which means it’s just after midnight here in Liberia. That means I fly out today. I should go to bed, but I’m afraid. Afraid of the last page of the booklet that has been my time here. Not sure whether it will conclude “The End” or “To Be Continued…” and quite honestly afraid of the answer either way. At various times throughout this trip I have figuratively “surfaced” – trying to step back, step out, and consider. In my head is a continually running refrain, “I’m really, truly, in Africa. I’m seeing things and talking to people that till now I have seen only in calendars, the news and promotional material for charities.” Every moment here has been a privilege. I’m perfectly serious about that; It’s been (mostly!) easy to be a good sport about this because of that – things that are difficult here for me are everyday life for folks who live here. And I get the privilege of stepping out of one life into another, very different one. Why wouldn’t one just soak that experience in for all it’s worth? I’m scared of the day ending because I’ll no longer be able to put off making a decision about whether this becomes my life, for real, in just a few months…

Please keep your legs off the wall

Today was a fun day in Liberia. It started with me getting a new dress! For someone who really is not a fan of clothes shopping, this is definitely the way to go: have a friend who is your same size and whose mom is a seamstress and knows how to make beautiful dresses out of African lappa fabric. Pay her to make one for you! I wore it to start the day, and then a meeting we had with the deputy minister of education was cancelled till tomorrow, so I changed so I can wear it again tomorrow.

First thing we headed off to CHAP farms - an initiative based in Liberia that is working on using agriculture to enable Liberians to live sustainably and independent of outside aid. Robert showed us around their farm and explained various aspects of rice, okra, and other types of farming they're doing there. (In the picture, I'm uploading their brochure to my laptop).

We next headed to Margibi county to look at agricultural initiatives there. Mr. Willie Cooper is Mr. Solunteh’s counterpart in Margibi county and he and his staff were fantastically knowledgeable. We wandered around their experimental farm and nursery, and learned a lot more about how agriculture works here. Mustafa will use a lot of this info in his upcoming presentation for aid funding.

The day has ended in a series of unfortunate events. They didn’t have room for both of us at the guest house for tonight, so earlier today Mustafa volunteered to go to (a much less nice) one nearby. We were both struck by this sign we saw on the wall as we toured the place. The story gets more serious: as Mustafa dropped some of his stuff off in my room he was chagrined to see an unmannerly wretch, smugly sitting on my bed with about the filthiest feet you can imagine. What IS the world coming to? But that’s nothing to what comes next: about an hour after he left there was a sudden loud banging at my window. When I worked up the nerve to lift up the curtain and investigate, there was David, our building’s guard. He told me that “a guy” was outside and wanted to be let in. I went to the front door and peered through the bars to find David and… Mustafa! Perhaps there is some hope for human decency in the world after all: I happened to be in a fairly decent mood so I decided to let him in. Apparently they’d given him the wrong outside key, so he’d spent an hour with their security guard trying to make the key work or wake someone up to let him in, all to no avail. So the poor guy gets to spend the night on one of the lobby couches here.
Tuesday morning update: apparently that was NOT the end of Mustafa’s misfortunes: he had skeeters biting his feet all night, and was awakened at 5 AM by other residents who were ready to get started with their day. Guess if he’s grouchy today, I’ll try not to hold it against him.

Liberia owes me a hair band

Well, we’ve been here a week! Hardly seems possible. I hope you back in the ‘States are having a lovely Memorial Day weekend.

Today we visited Monrovia Christian Fellowship, a church that’s been recommended by probably five or six different folks I’ve spoken with. I really liked it – I knew a lot of expats are a part of that community, so was pleasantly surprised when I found that it’s pastored, strongly attended and (from what I can see) run by Liberians. Great singing, great teaching, and just plain nice to be there. 

After church, we headed to the home of Brendan and Christina – some folks that Joy had referred me to. They were marvelously hospitable; we talked of many things and feasted on spaghetti, garlic bread, and chocolate chip bars. Yum! They have five kids and another family living in their guest house, AND they’re leaving for the ‘States tomorrow, so it was really gracious of them to invite us in spite of all that’s going on. They had great stories of life here (like the time they wanted to buy ice and got eggs instead!), and it was great to learn a bit from them about how they’ve learned to make living an expat life workable.

We then headed back to the guest house where I had great intentions of being productive, but really just ended up taking a long nap! Ever since arrival here we’ve talked about wanting to go down to the beach but tonight was the first time that actually happened! 

Mustafa was wise and stayed in the “wade” zone. I played about in the crashing-ness and half drowned myself trying to body surf and generally had a lovely, refreshing time. I am holding Liberia responsible for the hair band (not the 80’s kind!) that somehow disappeared in the process. 

What Saturdays in Liberia are about - from what I can tell

Orphan Relief and Rescue

Today the pace let up a bit. In browsing around online I’d run across an organization called Orphan Relief and Rescue. Since some of what they do is the renovation of orphanages (which is similar to what I would be doing here), I had contacted them and they got me in touch with a man named Andrew Tyler. It worked for him to meet up today so we headed over there to learn what we could about their work. They’re building a new orphanage near where Firestone has their gajillions of rubber trees, so after a brief overview of their work we took off to see it. 

We got a flat on the way, but Abee (and his brother, who happened to be passing by) made short work of that problem!

The orphanage they’re building is really, really cool. When they’re done, it will be able to house 50 kids, with a wing for boys, a wing for girls, and a central cafeteria-type area. Once they’re done building this they’ll also build a school, which will serve both the orphanage, and the greater community which currently has no locally-accessible school. Andrew walked us through all sorts of details about everything from construction to material supply to how hiring and staffing in Liberia. I’m sure I didn’t absorb as much as I could, but what I did learn will be invaluable (to Mustafa, at any rate, if I don’t return ;) 

We shall live!

Since we were in Firestone already, Gladys asked if we would like to meet her son, who’s staying with her brother there while she works for Shelter this week. We said, “of course!” so got to meet Amouchen (which means “we shall live!”). He was shy, but apparently that’s not typical! It was great to meet the little guy we’ve been hearing so much about. He’s having lots of fun at his uncle’s beautiful place, but we think he can come with his mom when they drop us off at the airport on Sunday.

Henhouse

Next we stopped by the construction of a poultry run that Orphan Relief and Rescue is about to start. It’s to support a different orphanage – they’re building a big one because they think it will go a long way toward helping that orphanage become self sustaining.

Evelyn’s

We finally dropped Andrew off to let him get on with whatever else he was planning to accomplish with his day, and headed into town. All week long Gladys and Abee have been telling us how wonderful Liberian food is, but not letting us eat any because 1) finding food that’s safe for us to eat is somewhat of an issue, and 2) we’ve been eating at ‘fancier’ places to meet with all these official-types – or else eating leftovers or cereal :) back at the guest house. So today we FINALLY got to eat at Evelyn’s, which serves Liberian food. It was lovely. We shared fish gravy with boiled cassava, and dumboy soup. Spicy, but really, really good!

The National Museum

After lunch, Gladys took us to the Liberian National Museum. I’ll pretty much let the pictures speak for themselves. Oh – and you’re not supposed to take pictures, but we must have charmed the guy because he told us to take all the pictures we want. When we told him we’d share them with him, he got excited and wanted us to take even more!  We learned a lot about Liberian culture and history – but a ton of stuff was destroyed or sold during the war, so the collection was not huge. One stone idol-thing was actually in a German museum for a long time. They finally were able to bring it back, but it was so heavy they dropped it en route from the car to the door.

The Market

We wanted to get some things as gifts for folks back home and figured this would be a good time to check out the market so that’s where we headed next. It was hilarious hearing Mustafa go back to his bargaining roots – between he and Gladys the poor shopkeepers didn’t stand a chance. And it really wasn’t nice because people generally see white people and jack prices up, and Gladys was having none of that at all. I just hate disappointing peoples’ hopes of cashing in big like that! (Any bets on my chances of survival if I move here?! :) Ok, ok, so I did some bargaining also – I am my mother’s daughter, after all!)  

We returned to the car and it was covered with people and stuff – hey, it was horizontal empty space on a busy street! You can see the guy trying to sell Mustafa stuff through the windshield. It didn’t take long for them to clear it off once Abee started the car moving slowly forward. More friendly honking, and we were able to inch our way out of the area.

We headed back somewhat early compared to the rest of this week. The fruit here has been amazing, and we had picked up some “plums” (mangoes) earlier today. 

So we ended the day as probably most days SHOULD be ended – stabbing slices of mango and puttering about. 

Mustafa had to get this photo of the letter he got from the Ministry of Agriculture – it really is something to have it after less than a week in the country…

War.

One phrase we hear continually in conversations is, “before the war…”. We’ve been able to hear people’s experiences of the war; stories of lives that were turned upside down by chaos and violence. Gladys was at college when the war broke out and called everything to a halt; she and her family ended up fleeing to Cote d’Ivoire. Mr. Sulunteh and Mr. S-Saah stayed in Bong County through the entire war, and survived by fleeing and living with their families in the bush from 1991 to 2003. Before the war, all the other countries around had problems like this, but Liberia was too civilized for that kind of nonsense. But when it came, it came big and horrific. The war affected everyone here – not in the sense of just being inconvenienced: everyone I’ve talked to has seen people being shot all around them, has spent time fleeing through the bush, has had near brushes with death. They’ve watched what was a decently advanced and civilized way of living crumble to pieces. The war moved around the country, so people would go from place to place, for a while trying to resume “normal” life and then being uprooted again. Many missed elementary education, so if they were to go back to school now, they might be 20 but be in 2nd grade as far as education goes. And that only touches on the trauma: kids were drugged and forced to fight, and sometimes, to rape and kill their own parents (completely devastating to the strong African value of respect for elders). Charles Taylor was so charismatic that the kids in the army would chant, “you killed my ma, you killed my pa, I’ll fight for you”. In the US, 9/11 was a defining moment for us, but if 9/11 had come individually to every city where we live, every town; forcing us to flee on foot from one state to another, perhaps to Canada or Mexico, or – if we had connections – out of the continent, destroying and separating families bit by bit, we would have a much better sense of what these folks are going through as they deal with each bit of evidence of the brokenness and destruction that uprooted their lives.

Gonna take some time to do the things we never have

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.