Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
The last day...
Today was my last day at YAI. I worked at the internet café all morning and when I got back to the office, the staff surprised me with a going away party. They all made touching speeches and then presented me with a traditional Liberian robe as a parting gift. We danced and ate and partied all afternoon—and the press even showed up to cover the event! I thanked them all profusely for the party and reminded them they weren’t going to be getting rid of me this easily because Liberia is part of me now and I will be back.
I am not leaving Liberia until Monday and I still have to finish writing my Fellowship paper, but technically, today was also my last day of the Fellowship. I am not really sure what to say about this year. I am so preoccupied with Jessi right now that it’s hard for me to clear my mind and have any kind of thoughtful perspective on these eventful 12 months and two weeks.
Ultimately, there are different ways to evaluate this year. Quantitatively, I traveled over 35,000 miles all around the world and visit 22 countries along the way. I worked with 6 different organizations and taught 60 students. And I saved at least 1 life.
Qualitatively, the Fellowship year was such a varied experience, with high ups, low downs and lots in between, that it doesn’t seem to do it justice to conclude everything with some perfunctory final sentences. Reading through my journals entries, which are essentially the shortest and yet most profound summaries of my placements, helps to get a sense of what I took from this year. However, I think what matters most is not the experiences of this year, because they are behind me, but what I choose to do with them moving forward and how I will build on this Fellowship experience. As time goes on, I am sure I will gain new perspectives on this Fellowship; the opportunities the program allowed me to develop, the challenges I faced, the insights I gained about my profession and myself, and the relationships I built. Certain elements will likely wax or wane in importance and value to me depending on where life takes me, but one thing I know is that, thanks to the variety and uniqueness of these experiences, the Insight Fellowship will always be a relevant and uniquely important part of my life.
I am not leaving Liberia until Monday and I still have to finish writing my Fellowship paper, but technically, today was also my last day of the Fellowship. I am not really sure what to say about this year. I am so preoccupied with Jessi right now that it’s hard for me to clear my mind and have any kind of thoughtful perspective on these eventful 12 months and two weeks.
Ultimately, there are different ways to evaluate this year. Quantitatively, I traveled over 35,000 miles all around the world and visit 22 countries along the way. I worked with 6 different organizations and taught 60 students. And I saved at least 1 life.
Qualitatively, the Fellowship year was such a varied experience, with high ups, low downs and lots in between, that it doesn’t seem to do it justice to conclude everything with some perfunctory final sentences. Reading through my journals entries, which are essentially the shortest and yet most profound summaries of my placements, helps to get a sense of what I took from this year. However, I think what matters most is not the experiences of this year, because they are behind me, but what I choose to do with them moving forward and how I will build on this Fellowship experience. As time goes on, I am sure I will gain new perspectives on this Fellowship; the opportunities the program allowed me to develop, the challenges I faced, the insights I gained about my profession and myself, and the relationships I built. Certain elements will likely wax or wane in importance and value to me depending on where life takes me, but one thing I know is that, thanks to the variety and uniqueness of these experiences, the Insight Fellowship will always be a relevant and uniquely important part of my life.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The battle for Jessi
The past few days have been extremely long and exhausting, bouncing between several different clinics and overcrowded hospitals in Monrovia trying to help Jessi. I've battled with arrogant, corrupt, callous doctors and administrators and also met some lovely caring people who are grateful and supportive of what I'm doing. I also have found Jessi's family and have a better understanding of how Jessi got into this terrible situation in the first place (long story) and what exactly is wrong with him. As it turns out, he has a very serious condition known as chronic osteomyelitis, basically a severe bone infection in both his right arm and leg. It is likely that he will be in the hospital for a couple of months and that he will require surgery. It is also likely that I will come back to Liberia to follow-up in person and oversee some of his treatment.
In my few remaining days in Liberia, I am going to make sure that there is a system in place here so that he is taken care of once I'm gone. Thankfully, I have amazing friends and colleagues who are going to keep an eye on him for me and who will help me communicate with his doctors and pay for his care and treatment. It's going to be excruciating to leave on Monday, but at least I can leave knowing that this boy, my boy, is alive and off the streets. I know I've undertaken an enormous long-term responsibility, but I cannot think of a more worthy cause than saving the life of this child.
In my few remaining days in Liberia, I am going to make sure that there is a system in place here so that he is taken care of once I'm gone. Thankfully, I have amazing friends and colleagues who are going to keep an eye on him for me and who will help me communicate with his doctors and pay for his care and treatment. It's going to be excruciating to leave on Monday, but at least I can leave knowing that this boy, my boy, is alive and off the streets. I know I've undertaken an enormous long-term responsibility, but I cannot think of a more worthy cause than saving the life of this child.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Jessi
Well, the time has come to leave Liberia and wrap up this long intercontinental roller coaster ride of a Fellowship year... I was planning to write my usual type of update, highlighting some of the funny experiences and describing my life here in this postwar African nation. But something happened to me yesterday that changed everything...
Yesterday evening, I walked out of the internet café, frustrated as usual by the slow connection and exhausted from a long day at the office. As I walked down the street, I glanced at a young boy sitting by the road cradling an injured arm. He had a long cut down his right arm with small regular abscesses--it looked like he had been cut by barbed wire. He was sitting by himself, peering down at his injuries and picking at the cuts, like a puppy licking its wounds.
I looked away and kept walking. Yet another poor injured kid in this war torn shell of a city. I walked about halfway down the block but could not get this boy out of my head. Those abscesses were oozing with pus and no one seemed to be taking any care of him. I cannot be this callous. I cannot be this blasé. I stopped walking and turned around. And this is how Jessi came into my life.
I approached the boy and starting talking to him. He was shy and introverted. He couldn’t or wouldn't answer my questions. A Liberian couple stopped as they saw me struggling to help this boy. He clearly needed medical attention, not just a trip to the pharmacy, and they offered to walk him there with me. He trailed behind me, his emaciated frame limping severely... Clearly these injuries were more extensive than I thought.
The clinic was dank and dim. People were sitting around the waiting room watching a fuzzy TV screen, broadcasting the Euro 2008 football match. Nothing could seem more distant or frivolous than a bunch of boys kicking a ball around a field for a trophy and some cash. Thanks to my vociferous persistence (which has paid off this week), we got in quickly to see the doctor. This was clearly an emergency: a purulent infection, a broken arm, a malnourished boy.
After insisting I pay the admittance fee first, they put him on intravenous antibiotics and injected some painkillers too. He cried out when they stuck him with the needle. I grabbed his leg and told him to look away, to be strong… As if this kid needed me to tell him to be strong. Finally, after cleaning and dressing the messy wounds on his arm, they prepared his bed and he lay down to rest. I said goodnight, carefully explaining that I would be back first thing in the morning. He looked away and whispered ‘thank you’ in a little voice that broke my heart. I didn’t need the thanks, just like I didn’t need my friends to congratulate me for doing the right thing… But the feeling of that moment, the feeling that I was reaching out and directly helping someone, that was an indescribable feeling.
I could not stop crying when I left the clinic for the night. I cannot help but think of what this kid has suffered for the past few months, alone on the streets with this badly injured arm. What if I hadn't stopped to help him? Would anyone else have been able to help? Would anyone else have cared? Those questions still torture me...
I know I cannot save everyone. I know. But I can help this boy--this one, right here. I can help heal his wounds. I can feed him. I can hold his hand.
As we walked home, my friend Oliver turned to me and said, “this is why you came to Africa.” Actually, it’s not. I didn’t come to Africa to give hand outs to needy children. I would lose myself that way. My soul would be crushed if my mission were to go from village to village scooping up and rescuing sick kids. My heart would surely break a thousand times over with the knowledge that there were always more who I could never help. Helping just one is bittersweet. I feel good about doing it, but angry that I had to. Angry no, furious, at the structural inequalities in the world that made it so 14-year old Jessi was sick and hungry and alone, while 10 years ago, 14-year old Eve was healthy, happy and blissfully ignorant of true pain and suffering. I feel frustrated and guilty that I can't do more, but I feel resolved to continue working and fighting for Jessi and for what I believe in…
Yesterday evening, I walked out of the internet café, frustrated as usual by the slow connection and exhausted from a long day at the office. As I walked down the street, I glanced at a young boy sitting by the road cradling an injured arm. He had a long cut down his right arm with small regular abscesses--it looked like he had been cut by barbed wire. He was sitting by himself, peering down at his injuries and picking at the cuts, like a puppy licking its wounds.
I looked away and kept walking. Yet another poor injured kid in this war torn shell of a city. I walked about halfway down the block but could not get this boy out of my head. Those abscesses were oozing with pus and no one seemed to be taking any care of him. I cannot be this callous. I cannot be this blasé. I stopped walking and turned around. And this is how Jessi came into my life.
I approached the boy and starting talking to him. He was shy and introverted. He couldn’t or wouldn't answer my questions. A Liberian couple stopped as they saw me struggling to help this boy. He clearly needed medical attention, not just a trip to the pharmacy, and they offered to walk him there with me. He trailed behind me, his emaciated frame limping severely... Clearly these injuries were more extensive than I thought.
The clinic was dank and dim. People were sitting around the waiting room watching a fuzzy TV screen, broadcasting the Euro 2008 football match. Nothing could seem more distant or frivolous than a bunch of boys kicking a ball around a field for a trophy and some cash. Thanks to my vociferous persistence (which has paid off this week), we got in quickly to see the doctor. This was clearly an emergency: a purulent infection, a broken arm, a malnourished boy.
After insisting I pay the admittance fee first, they put him on intravenous antibiotics and injected some painkillers too. He cried out when they stuck him with the needle. I grabbed his leg and told him to look away, to be strong… As if this kid needed me to tell him to be strong. Finally, after cleaning and dressing the messy wounds on his arm, they prepared his bed and he lay down to rest. I said goodnight, carefully explaining that I would be back first thing in the morning. He looked away and whispered ‘thank you’ in a little voice that broke my heart. I didn’t need the thanks, just like I didn’t need my friends to congratulate me for doing the right thing… But the feeling of that moment, the feeling that I was reaching out and directly helping someone, that was an indescribable feeling.
I could not stop crying when I left the clinic for the night. I cannot help but think of what this kid has suffered for the past few months, alone on the streets with this badly injured arm. What if I hadn't stopped to help him? Would anyone else have been able to help? Would anyone else have cared? Those questions still torture me...
I know I cannot save everyone. I know. But I can help this boy--this one, right here. I can help heal his wounds. I can feed him. I can hold his hand.
As we walked home, my friend Oliver turned to me and said, “this is why you came to Africa.” Actually, it’s not. I didn’t come to Africa to give hand outs to needy children. I would lose myself that way. My soul would be crushed if my mission were to go from village to village scooping up and rescuing sick kids. My heart would surely break a thousand times over with the knowledge that there were always more who I could never help. Helping just one is bittersweet. I feel good about doing it, but angry that I had to. Angry no, furious, at the structural inequalities in the world that made it so 14-year old Jessi was sick and hungry and alone, while 10 years ago, 14-year old Eve was healthy, happy and blissfully ignorant of true pain and suffering. I feel frustrated and guilty that I can't do more, but I feel resolved to continue working and fighting for Jessi and for what I believe in…
Monday, June 09, 2008
I bless the rains down in Africa...
In the early part of the rainy season last month, we had monsoon-like downpours that thundered down for an hour or so and then just as quickly dissipated. After the first month of intense nearly nightly thundershowers, the climate is shifting. Now it’s sometimes gray all day with a light misty drizzle. Last month, you could clearly see a sliver of the Atlantic from my office balcony, but recently, clear days are rare as the rainy season progresses… Despite the lack of view, when it starts to pour, I like to stand out on my little balcony and watch the street scenes. Small children play and splash in puddles. Sometimes they even bathe in the flowing fresh water. Schoolchildren in uniforms take off their shoes and race home, protectively shielding their notebooks. The Nigerian UNMIL soldiers abandon traffic duty and doze under the awning of the Ministry of Defense. Teenagers crowd under shared umbrellas. The market mamas pack up their wares and sit in shop entrances, gossiping with their friends. For a couple of hours, all activity halts and everything is quiet and cool…
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Reactions to my response
Someone posted my response on their blog and got the following 2 responses:
1-
Thank you for posting "the other side" of the issue. It was a breath of fresh air. I for one, after many years of living in West Africa, grow weary of being criticized for having a nice meal out, typically by a reporter who is only here for two weeks. I applaud the Sister's of Charity for their vow of poverty--but let's face it, most of us are not quite in their league. For those that leave behind the comforts of home to serve those who need it most -- and on a long term basis--is it really a crime to have some sushi in an air conditioned restaurant every now and then? If it is, then I think I need to go home...
---------------------------------------------
2-
As a foreigner who has lived, worked in Liberia for several years (from the war days on), I would say that the situation is very complex, although the writer of the original story did bring out some truths. He did NOT use any statistics in his claims, which may have backed some of his opinions or observations, and was biased in some ways. I find that SOME of today's journalists are not responsible in their writing - they fly in for a few days into a country they have never lived in and write something they feel is about a topic only they have opened....if you get what I mean. (even some that are living there write nonsense....)
Salaries for NGO workers vary greatly from very slim (even volunteer) to decent by western standards. The work can also be very gruelling and hours above and beyond what most people would want to work. It is the salaries for UN staff that are huge (beyond even what I expected), but the UN and some NGOs also pay very good salaries to Liberian staff at management levels. Many NGOs are mostly staffed by Liberians and there are local NGOs also only staffed by Liberians. I think he would also have to look into the yearly fees for all foreigners to live and work in Monrovia - which a VISITING journalist would not pay. Although NGO workers do not pay a work permit fee, all other foreigners are suppose to and everyone pays resident permit, if they are following the rules. ( A visa to enter the country is also high compared to other countries and must be paid each time you enter unless you get a re-entry permit which is also paid yearly and was 150 These fees are high, US dollars and yearly. A good question would be to
find out how much the government is receiving from these fees. Also, what of the amazing amount of Chinese citizens working in the country. Since many of them also do labor jobs, are they not taking jobs from Liberians? There was a time when they were selling cool-aid on the street - this is a job for locals only - no? Are they paying those fees also?
I would also look at the exploitation of Liberians by their own Liberians bosses. This is rampant. Some very wealthy Liberians are known for not even paying their workers or owe workers money for years on end. Some of those very people owe me money for work I performed but I have written it off! This topic is so complex and complicated and the NGO worker also brought up points the writer did not point out because today's journalists are not what they use to be. I have read many articles by western journalists about Liberia that are the same...no real substance and full of their own views, as if they are writing for their own blog.
Living in Liberia is not easy at all and I speak as someone who has not lived as a rich expat ever. I did eat at the first sushi bar once as a treat from a friend and I was excited and happy it existed, even if I could not afford to eat there. That hotel too has a long reputation of having the best restaurants in town and I am talking before Taylor, during Taylor, and after Taylor. The family that owns the hotel are very progressive. I think there are so much more important issues to talk about in Liberia and also stories that are not being written to encourage those positive things that are happening in Liberia and are not part of any expat community. Personally, many of my Liberian friends, educated and not, would be so grateful if I could help them get a job working for a foreigner or foreign organization, mainly because the pay is much better and they are paid on time. This is a reality in Liberia.....one of the many realities.
We could also talk of the huge influx of other Africans into Monrovia - they have swelled the city. Some jobs and businesses that were only done by Liberians before the UN came in are now almost exclusively done or owned by other Africans. The borders are very fluid. These are my observations over the years and the observations of the Liberians I work and LIVE with - but I am not writing a journalistic piece for a major paper - if I was......I would try to back up my observations by facts/stats and quotes from different sectors of society of Liberia - not just one or two people. My 2 cents!
1-
Thank you for posting "the other side" of the issue. It was a breath of fresh air. I for one, after many years of living in West Africa, grow weary of being criticized for having a nice meal out, typically by a reporter who is only here for two weeks. I applaud the Sister's of Charity for their vow of poverty--but let's face it, most of us are not quite in their league. For those that leave behind the comforts of home to serve those who need it most -- and on a long term basis--is it really a crime to have some sushi in an air conditioned restaurant every now and then? If it is, then I think I need to go home...
---------------------------------------------
2-
As a foreigner who has lived, worked in Liberia for several years (from the war days on), I would say that the situation is very complex, although the writer of the original story did bring out some truths. He did NOT use any statistics in his claims, which may have backed some of his opinions or observations, and was biased in some ways. I find that SOME of today's journalists are not responsible in their writing - they fly in for a few days into a country they have never lived in and write something they feel is about a topic only they have opened....if you get what I mean. (even some that are living there write nonsense....)
Salaries for NGO workers vary greatly from very slim (even volunteer) to decent by western standards. The work can also be very gruelling and hours above and beyond what most people would want to work. It is the salaries for UN staff that are huge (beyond even what I expected), but the UN and some NGOs also pay very good salaries to Liberian staff at management levels. Many NGOs are mostly staffed by Liberians and there are local NGOs also only staffed by Liberians. I think he would also have to look into the yearly fees for all foreigners to live and work in Monrovia - which a VISITING journalist would not pay. Although NGO workers do not pay a work permit fee, all other foreigners are suppose to and everyone pays resident permit, if they are following the rules. ( A visa to enter the country is also high compared to other countries and must be paid each time you enter unless you get a re-entry permit which is also paid yearly and was 150 These fees are high, US dollars and yearly. A good question would be to
find out how much the government is receiving from these fees. Also, what of the amazing amount of Chinese citizens working in the country. Since many of them also do labor jobs, are they not taking jobs from Liberians? There was a time when they were selling cool-aid on the street - this is a job for locals only - no? Are they paying those fees also?
I would also look at the exploitation of Liberians by their own Liberians bosses. This is rampant. Some very wealthy Liberians are known for not even paying their workers or owe workers money for years on end. Some of those very people owe me money for work I performed but I have written it off! This topic is so complex and complicated and the NGO worker also brought up points the writer did not point out because today's journalists are not what they use to be. I have read many articles by western journalists about Liberia that are the same...no real substance and full of their own views, as if they are writing for their own blog.
Living in Liberia is not easy at all and I speak as someone who has not lived as a rich expat ever. I did eat at the first sushi bar once as a treat from a friend and I was excited and happy it existed, even if I could not afford to eat there. That hotel too has a long reputation of having the best restaurants in town and I am talking before Taylor, during Taylor, and after Taylor. The family that owns the hotel are very progressive. I think there are so much more important issues to talk about in Liberia and also stories that are not being written to encourage those positive things that are happening in Liberia and are not part of any expat community. Personally, many of my Liberian friends, educated and not, would be so grateful if I could help them get a job working for a foreigner or foreign organization, mainly because the pay is much better and they are paid on time. This is a reality in Liberia.....one of the many realities.
We could also talk of the huge influx of other Africans into Monrovia - they have swelled the city. Some jobs and businesses that were only done by Liberians before the UN came in are now almost exclusively done or owned by other Africans. The borders are very fluid. These are my observations over the years and the observations of the Liberians I work and LIVE with - but I am not writing a journalistic piece for a major paper - if I was......I would try to back up my observations by facts/stats and quotes from different sectors of society of Liberia - not just one or two people. My 2 cents!
Friday, June 06, 2008
Yours truly in the news
My presence in the Liberian media continued throughout the week. My article was published on Tuesday and then several articles about my workshops appeared on Wednesday.
Then today, I was all over the radio. This morning, I was a guest on a morning radio program called “Coffee Break” to talk about the content and purpose of last week’s workshops as well as share information about YAI’s projects. As part of my project on increasing youth awareness and participation in the TRC process, I was one of the special guests on the UNMIL radio show “Looking at the TRC” this afternoon. My friend and fellow radio guest posted an MP3 of the program here: Here
This weeklong media blitz made me a bit of a local celebrity but I tried not to let it get to my head. Basically it just felt great to reach out to a broader audience and hopefully have a little impact beyond Monrovia.
(Please note that the photo in the article was from a speech I gave at Smith 2 years ago and it seems that they flipped it around for layout purposes... The quality of Liberian media... *sigh*)
Then today, I was all over the radio. This morning, I was a guest on a morning radio program called “Coffee Break” to talk about the content and purpose of last week’s workshops as well as share information about YAI’s projects. As part of my project on increasing youth awareness and participation in the TRC process, I was one of the special guests on the UNMIL radio show “Looking at the TRC” this afternoon. My friend and fellow radio guest posted an MP3 of the program here: Here
This weeklong media blitz made me a bit of a local celebrity but I tried not to let it get to my head. Basically it just felt great to reach out to a broader audience and hopefully have a little impact beyond Monrovia.
Monday, June 02, 2008
"In Postwar Liberia, Paradise Amid the Poverty"
My response to Craig Timberg's May 30 Washington Post article:
It is facile to see the slow progress of development in postwar Liberia and point a blaming finger at the Western NGO workers who enjoy a “lavish lifestyle,” but these indictments fail to assess the true impact of the Western presence here in Monrovia and also misrepresent the real lifestyles of Western NGO workers in Monrovia.
Firstly, for the record, most expatriates do not live in the “paradise” described. Amenities that most of your readers take for granted are luxuries here. For examples, many Westerners living in Monrovia do without running water or 24h electricity in our homes. I live in a local-style apartment in downtown Monrovia with six Liberian roommates. We don’t have running water and have only sporadic electricity. In addition, most NGOs do not have huge disposable budgets and shiny new SUVs. The office of Youth Action International (YAI), the NGO where I am currently serving as a consultant, does not have the convenience of private transportation or the luxury of high-speed internet or air-conditioning.
Secondly, the so-called profligate lifestyle of European and American expatriates actually helps stimulate the capital city’s economy. Those sushi bars that are so easily critiqued employ dozens of local Liberians as cooks, waiters, busboys, and bartenders and are supporting the livelihood of fishermen who otherwise would not have a market for their fish. Expatriate dollars are trickling down into the impoverished local economy and are providing jobs and stimulating business growth.
In addition to the jobs in the burgeoning hospitality industry, NGO community employs hundreds of Liberians as drivers, secretaries, domestic helpers, and security guards, at wages that are very generous by Liberian standards. These otherwise unemployed Liberians can now afford to pay their children’s school fees and can contribute to their households’ rising food expenses.
While most of the jobs offered are low-ranking as the author accurately mentions, few Liberians have the experience or education necessary to fill high-ranking posts. The 13-year civil war all but eradicated the educational system and most of what has been rebuilt so far is laughable in quality. Those Liberians who are educated often choose to go into sectors that are more personally profitable such as business or government rather than non-profit work. However, many NGOs try to fill mid-ranking positions with Liberians so they can gain the experience and knowledge to eventually take over for themselves—and some have already succeeded. For instance, all the YAI – Liberia staff are Liberian.
Finally, the Western expatriates who come to work here are motivated, bright, hard-working individuals. We are taking risks to our personal health and safety to live and work here, far from our families and friends. We are distant from the comfort and familiarity of home in a postwar nation with a security situation still so precarious it demands the 2nd largest peacekeeping force in the world. Why should we be made to feel guilty for patronizing innovative local businesses that cater to our palates and provide employment opportunities for Liberians? And for all our hard work and all the challenges we encounter working to improve a postwar impoverished country that is not our own, are we not entitled to a little escapism?
We truly care about Liberia and Liberians and the fact that we want to sit back and enjoy some California rolls on a Friday night does not negate that.
It is facile to see the slow progress of development in postwar Liberia and point a blaming finger at the Western NGO workers who enjoy a “lavish lifestyle,” but these indictments fail to assess the true impact of the Western presence here in Monrovia and also misrepresent the real lifestyles of Western NGO workers in Monrovia.
Firstly, for the record, most expatriates do not live in the “paradise” described. Amenities that most of your readers take for granted are luxuries here. For examples, many Westerners living in Monrovia do without running water or 24h electricity in our homes. I live in a local-style apartment in downtown Monrovia with six Liberian roommates. We don’t have running water and have only sporadic electricity. In addition, most NGOs do not have huge disposable budgets and shiny new SUVs. The office of Youth Action International (YAI), the NGO where I am currently serving as a consultant, does not have the convenience of private transportation or the luxury of high-speed internet or air-conditioning.
Secondly, the so-called profligate lifestyle of European and American expatriates actually helps stimulate the capital city’s economy. Those sushi bars that are so easily critiqued employ dozens of local Liberians as cooks, waiters, busboys, and bartenders and are supporting the livelihood of fishermen who otherwise would not have a market for their fish. Expatriate dollars are trickling down into the impoverished local economy and are providing jobs and stimulating business growth.
In addition to the jobs in the burgeoning hospitality industry, NGO community employs hundreds of Liberians as drivers, secretaries, domestic helpers, and security guards, at wages that are very generous by Liberian standards. These otherwise unemployed Liberians can now afford to pay their children’s school fees and can contribute to their households’ rising food expenses.
While most of the jobs offered are low-ranking as the author accurately mentions, few Liberians have the experience or education necessary to fill high-ranking posts. The 13-year civil war all but eradicated the educational system and most of what has been rebuilt so far is laughable in quality. Those Liberians who are educated often choose to go into sectors that are more personally profitable such as business or government rather than non-profit work. However, many NGOs try to fill mid-ranking positions with Liberians so they can gain the experience and knowledge to eventually take over for themselves—and some have already succeeded. For instance, all the YAI – Liberia staff are Liberian.
Finally, the Western expatriates who come to work here are motivated, bright, hard-working individuals. We are taking risks to our personal health and safety to live and work here, far from our families and friends. We are distant from the comfort and familiarity of home in a postwar nation with a security situation still so precarious it demands the 2nd largest peacekeeping force in the world. Why should we be made to feel guilty for patronizing innovative local businesses that cater to our palates and provide employment opportunities for Liberians? And for all our hard work and all the challenges we encounter working to improve a postwar impoverished country that is not our own, are we not entitled to a little escapism?
We truly care about Liberia and Liberians and the fact that we want to sit back and enjoy some California rolls on a Friday night does not negate that.
Friday, May 30, 2008
YAI Workshop
Exhausted doesn’t begin to describe how tired I am right now. My entire body is heavy and the fatigue sits deep in my bones. Breathing feels laborious and I have lost my voice. But even though my body is depleted, my mind is invigorated. For the past 2 days, I’ve been facilitating a workshop for Liberian youths. There were 25 participants from roughly 12 different youth groups. The theme yesterday was transitional justice, which was essentially the same workshop I developed for one of the groups in Thailand, with more emphasis on truth commissions and specifically the Liberian Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). Today, conflict management was the focus. Again, I used the same workshop template that I developed for my Burmese students in Thailand. We practiced some effective communication skills and then I taught them some problem-solving techniques, including the Circle Chart (also known as the 4 Quadrant Tool).
However, the similarity with my work with the Burmese groups in Thailand ends there. The Liberian group was the antithesis of the quiet, punctual, and focused Burmese students. However, I was expecting it. Firstly, I am familiar with “Africa time,” which means that everything starts at least an hour behind schedule. (I once went to a meeting in Kenya that started nearly 4 hours after the supposed start time. Seriously.) In addition, the setup was not ideal for teaching: we were in a bit of a cramped space with limited ventilation. In order to have at least a little air circulating so we didn’t pass out in the 90 degree heat, we had to open the windows, which allowed the cacophony from below to stream in from one of the busiest streets in downtown Monrovia. So I spent most of the day sweating and nearly shouting to compete with the dissonant mix of American rap, gospel music, and car horns.
Despite these annoyances, the workshop was a real success. Not only did the participants have fun, but they really engaged in the material. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised at just how engaged some individuals were. Despite all the challenges they’ve faced, most were incredibly well-informed, articulate, and passionate. At times, it was tempting for me to just sit back and let them have a group discussion. In fact, yesterday, while I didn’t retire from my role as a facilitator entirely, I changed tactics in the afternoon and facilitated with a very light touch, just subtly guiding the conversation and making sure that people took turns speaking. What made these discussions particularly fascinating for me is the fact that the theoretical material I was teaching was really coming to life. Rather than talking about truth commissions in general terms, we talked about the current Liberian TRC and the issues surrounding it such as legitimacy, participation, corruption, results, misconceptions etc. Today, when discussing various conflict management skills, the group brought up challenging questions and poignant personal examples. Nearly everything we discussed was relevant to everyday life in postwar Liberia, which made for a vibrant and thought-provoking couple of days
However, the similarity with my work with the Burmese groups in Thailand ends there. The Liberian group was the antithesis of the quiet, punctual, and focused Burmese students. However, I was expecting it. Firstly, I am familiar with “Africa time,” which means that everything starts at least an hour behind schedule. (I once went to a meeting in Kenya that started nearly 4 hours after the supposed start time. Seriously.) In addition, the setup was not ideal for teaching: we were in a bit of a cramped space with limited ventilation. In order to have at least a little air circulating so we didn’t pass out in the 90 degree heat, we had to open the windows, which allowed the cacophony from below to stream in from one of the busiest streets in downtown Monrovia. So I spent most of the day sweating and nearly shouting to compete with the dissonant mix of American rap, gospel music, and car horns.
Despite these annoyances, the workshop was a real success. Not only did the participants have fun, but they really engaged in the material. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised at just how engaged some individuals were. Despite all the challenges they’ve faced, most were incredibly well-informed, articulate, and passionate. At times, it was tempting for me to just sit back and let them have a group discussion. In fact, yesterday, while I didn’t retire from my role as a facilitator entirely, I changed tactics in the afternoon and facilitated with a very light touch, just subtly guiding the conversation and making sure that people took turns speaking. What made these discussions particularly fascinating for me is the fact that the theoretical material I was teaching was really coming to life. Rather than talking about truth commissions in general terms, we talked about the current Liberian TRC and the issues surrounding it such as legitimacy, participation, corruption, results, misconceptions etc. Today, when discussing various conflict management skills, the group brought up challenging questions and poignant personal examples. Nearly everything we discussed was relevant to everyday life in postwar Liberia, which made for a vibrant and thought-provoking couple of days
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Photo journal
This weekend I decided to take a day to walk around town and take some snapshots. My mildly overprotective roommate and colleague Isaac insisted that it was not safe for me to walk around by myself, especially with a camera. While I do walk around every day with my laptop and camera in my bag, I rarely go beyond the 4-block radius of my office and apartment by myself—and certainly never ever at night. Criminality is extremely high in Liberia, as in every postwar country where so many are desperately poor and with no prospects. So when Isaac offered to accompany me for the afternoon, I accepted, and we spent a couple of hours walking and driving around in share taxis all around Monrovia.
Common downtown street scene: women in colorful fabrics, little children running every which way, little shops selling miscellany, a cracked sidewalk…
Young boy selling cold bags of water and bottles of soda.
To dissuade people from urinating on the wall
The little kids from my street who chase after me and call me “Aunty”
A billboard near the Executive Mansion
A share taxi in the Red Light Market
Common downtown street scene: women in colorful fabrics, little children running every which way, little shops selling miscellany, a cracked sidewalk…
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
In-House Training
Using the example of last week’s miscommunication and several other incidents in the office, I held an in-office training today on effective communication skills. Using some of the same exercises I used in Thailand, we worked on active listening skills. Then I introduced the Two-Column tool and we worked on bridging the gap between the two columns, i.e. “what we think and feel” vs. “what we say.” The YAI staff is small, only 5 people, and the intimate setting and trust between the participants made the training really dynamic, fun, and interesting.
I had been planning on holding weekly trainings for the YAI staff for some time now, but several factors intervened to delay the first training to today. Between my hectic meeting schedule and the holiday in the middle of last week, I never had a sufficient chunk of time to run a real training session. In addition, all of the YAI staff are also full-time university students—despite being in their late twenties. This is due to the suspension of education during the civil war, which causes the majority of Liberians to be far behind in their studies. Juggling a full course load plus their work responsibilities means that the YAI staff members also have limited time to allocate to trainings. However, I think the success of today’s training has made us all more devoted to really making time for these sessions every week.
The 3-hour training this afternoon was also a good warm up for me since next week YAI is sponsoring a 2-day workshop that I am facilitating for representatives from several youth groups in Monrovia.
I had been planning on holding weekly trainings for the YAI staff for some time now, but several factors intervened to delay the first training to today. Between my hectic meeting schedule and the holiday in the middle of last week, I never had a sufficient chunk of time to run a real training session. In addition, all of the YAI staff are also full-time university students—despite being in their late twenties. This is due to the suspension of education during the civil war, which causes the majority of Liberians to be far behind in their studies. Juggling a full course load plus their work responsibilities means that the YAI staff members also have limited time to allocate to trainings. However, I think the success of today’s training has made us all more devoted to really making time for these sessions every week.
The 3-hour training this afternoon was also a good warm up for me since next week YAI is sponsoring a 2-day workshop that I am facilitating for representatives from several youth groups in Monrovia.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Meeting the 2nd Lady of Liberia
I woke up today feeling refreshed after my unexpected day off and trip to the beach. After a busy morning in the office, I walked across town to the headquarters of the Group of 77, a government-sponsored program for handicapped Liberians. The head of the Group of 77 with whom I met is actually the Second Lady of Liberia, i.e. the Vice President’s wife, i.e. the Lynne Cheney of Liberia. While it was an honor to meet her, I realized about 20 minutes into the meeting that there was no possibility for developing a partnership between our organizations for a very simple reason: the “Enabled” program that YAI is developing specifically targets people who were handicapped because of the war, while the Group of 77 only works with people who are handicapped due to disease (polio etc) or accident. Thankfully, the Second Lady completely understood that we were restricted by the project proposal and the desire of our funders, and graciously passed on the information about other government-sponsored programs for people handicapped because of the conflict. I was a little embarrassed by this obvious miscommunication, but comforted to know that there were people out there who actually wanted to help Liberians in need, even if it wouldn’t benefit them or their organization.
Friday, May 09, 2008
YAI's projects
Today was reserved for visits to YAI’s main project sites. The first project was a community empowerment project done in partnership with the US Agency for International Development (USAID). The project was simple and consisted of two parts. The first was field research on the main social issues in some of the most conflict affected and at-risk urban communities. The second part was the development of special slogans targeting those issues that were then introduced to the people through community meetings and further disseminated on billboards, bumper stickers, radio programs, and tee-shirts.
After driving all around Greater Monrovia looking at the various billboards, we made our way to the J.C.N. Howard Memorial Playground. This playground, as with all others in Liberia, was severely dilapidated and so badly damaged during the civil war that it was nearly dangerous for children to play there. YAI’s founder and my friend, Kimmie Weeks, had particular attachment to this playground because it is where he played as a child growing up in Monrovia. As one of the organization’s first projects in Liberia, YAI renovated the playground and continues to maintain it. Now, hundreds of neighborhood children have a place to play and just be kids. It was so refreshing to see all of these children playing with real toys and on proper equipment as opposed to literally amusing themselves on the street or in ramshackle alleyways. While many could criticize this type of project, Liberia was so destroyed by the civil war that these basic projects are truly needed.
The last project I visited today was the Elwood Orphanage. Before YAI began supporting the orphanage, a courageous woman was simply taking children orphaned by the conflict into her home. As the numbers of children increased, she eventually had to move to a neighboring building, but it had no roof and no real facilities for the children. Now YAI supports Elwood and the building not only has a roof, but also windows, doors, a real classroom, and dorms for the boys and girls. There are nearly a hundred children living at the orphanage. They also have their own vegetable garden and little pig and chicken farm, with the goal of eventually becoming self-sustainable in terms of food.
After driving all around Greater Monrovia looking at the various billboards, we made our way to the J.C.N. Howard Memorial Playground. This playground, as with all others in Liberia, was severely dilapidated and so badly damaged during the civil war that it was nearly dangerous for children to play there. YAI’s founder and my friend, Kimmie Weeks, had particular attachment to this playground because it is where he played as a child growing up in Monrovia. As one of the organization’s first projects in Liberia, YAI renovated the playground and continues to maintain it. Now, hundreds of neighborhood children have a place to play and just be kids. It was so refreshing to see all of these children playing with real toys and on proper equipment as opposed to literally amusing themselves on the street or in ramshackle alleyways. While many could criticize this type of project, Liberia was so destroyed by the civil war that these basic projects are truly needed.
The last project I visited today was the Elwood Orphanage. Before YAI began supporting the orphanage, a courageous woman was simply taking children orphaned by the conflict into her home. As the numbers of children increased, she eventually had to move to a neighboring building, but it had no roof and no real facilities for the children. Now YAI supports Elwood and the building not only has a roof, but also windows, doors, a real classroom, and dorms for the boys and girls. There are nearly a hundred children living at the orphanage. They also have their own vegetable garden and little pig and chicken farm, with the goal of eventually becoming self-sustainable in terms of food.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Tacos 'n' Trivia
The past week has been a flurry of activity at work. I’m shaking things up a bit in the office with good results and getting leads on possible NGO partnerships. Yesterday I had a very interesting and productive meeting with the Country Representative of UNICEF. UNICEF sees YAI as a potential partner to help support the development of youth groups, which is exciting for YAI because that is not only the kind of program we’d really like to develop but also because it gives us an established and well-funded partner. In addition, the Country Representative introduced me to several other relevant people around the UNICEF offices and she promised to include YAI in any future NGO consultations and meetings. Unfortunately, I came down from my “productive morning” high when someone informed me that UNICEF has the unfortunate reputation in Liberia of being very slow and unreliable. Hopefully I’ll be able to instill in the YAI staff the need for regular follow-up so we can develop this relationship into a true partnership.
My energy and progress at work has come at a bit of a cost though: I really don’t have any friends besides my colleagues and roommates. This week though, I met someone through work who invited me to a “Tacos and Trivia evening. While usually exhausted from my 10-12 hour workdays in my non-air-conditioned office, I made the effort to go out tonight and mingle a bit with some fellow expatriates. Also, I really can’t resist the combination of two of my favorite things in the whole world: Mexican food and Trivial Pursuit.
My energy and progress at work has come at a bit of a cost though: I really don’t have any friends besides my colleagues and roommates. This week though, I met someone through work who invited me to a “Tacos and Trivia evening. While usually exhausted from my 10-12 hour workdays in my non-air-conditioned office, I made the effort to go out tonight and mingle a bit with some fellow expatriates. Also, I really can’t resist the combination of two of my favorite things in the whole world: Mexican food and Trivial Pursuit.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
T.I.A.
Unfortunately Monrovia bears the scars of the 12-year Liberian civil war. Scratch that actually, those scars are still open wounds: frequent power cuts, no running water, gutters clogged with casually discarded trash, roads covered in jagged potholes, sewer manholes without covers, small shacks erected between crumbling buildings, rusted barbed wire police roadblocks etc. Monrovia makes Vukovar look like Singapore.
But “T.I.A.” (This Is Africa) and, as usual, the population here survives and smiles, from the young war amputees on crutches agilely navigating the rutted sidewalks, to the mamas selling mangoes and grilled cassava on the corner, to the children playing in the rubble of bombed out buildings, to the UNMIL peacekeeping soldiers in their erratic flurries of blue helmet activity. And the street scene has its own unique soundtrack: the blasting gospel music from stores and the hip hop (usually Akon) being played by the roaming wheelbarrow street vendors mingles with the car horns of the white NGO trucks and the Premier League football matches being broadcast live on the radio. Ah, to be back in Africa…
In my first few days here, I've already been very busy: I went to several sports games and met the Liberian National Basketball coach and half the team. I met one of Charles Taylor's former bodyguards. I remembered the hard way that it’s best to take malaria prophylaxis with food because otherwise it causes excruciating heartburn. I've nearly perfected my bucket bath technique (remember, no running water!) and I learned to chug a half-liter of cold water out of a plastic bag (cheaper and more common than bottled water).
But “T.I.A.” (This Is Africa) and, as usual, the population here survives and smiles, from the young war amputees on crutches agilely navigating the rutted sidewalks, to the mamas selling mangoes and grilled cassava on the corner, to the children playing in the rubble of bombed out buildings, to the UNMIL peacekeeping soldiers in their erratic flurries of blue helmet activity. And the street scene has its own unique soundtrack: the blasting gospel music from stores and the hip hop (usually Akon) being played by the roaming wheelbarrow street vendors mingles with the car horns of the white NGO trucks and the Premier League football matches being broadcast live on the radio. Ah, to be back in Africa…
In my first few days here, I've already been very busy: I went to several sports games and met the Liberian National Basketball coach and half the team. I met one of Charles Taylor's former bodyguards. I remembered the hard way that it’s best to take malaria prophylaxis with food because otherwise it causes excruciating heartburn. I've nearly perfected my bucket bath technique (remember, no running water!) and I learned to chug a half-liter of cold water out of a plastic bag (cheaper and more common than bottled water).
Barbed wire and Bagged Water
Three weeks ago I packed up my apartment in BKK and left Thailand as discreetly as possible—so as to avoid getting soaked with water and chalk powder by the revelers celebrating Songkran, the wet & wild Thai New Year that coincided with my departure date.
There aren't as many direct flights between BKK and Monrovia as you would imagine, so my itinerary was somewhat circuitous: I took a long long long flight from Thailand via Qatar to Morocco (where I stopped for a few days and was joined by my father), then on to Senegal (where I crashed for a long weekend at the puppy-infested Zalman Dakar Expat mansion), and finally on to Liberia. Well that last transition wasn't so seamless: I was meant to transit through Abidjan but my onward flight was canceled which stranded me in Côte d'Ivoire. Personally I felt that the unexpected stopover in a crime-ridden post-war city was the perfect introduction to my third and final placement in Liberia.
After a few days I did get a flight out and, despite the Liberian Immigration Dept's best efforts to keep me out (yay for showing up without a visa and nearly getting arrested & deported!), I finally managed to get to Liberia. I have now I've been here nearly two weeks and am gradually settling in....
Unfortunately Monrovia bears the scars of the 12-year Liberian civil war. Scratch that actually, those scars are still open wounds: frequent power cuts, no running water, gutters clogged with casually discarded trash, roads covered in jagged potholes, sewer manholes without covers, small shacks erected between crumbling buildings, rusted barbed wire police roadblocks etc. Monrovia makes Vukovar look like Singapore.
But T.I.A. and, as usual, the population here survives and smiles, from the young war amputees on crutches agilely navigating the rutted sidewalks, to the mamas selling mangoes and grilled cassava on the corner, to the children playing in the rubble of bombed out buildings, to the UNMIL peacekeeping soldiers in their erratic flurries of blue helmet activity. And the street scene has its own unique soundtrack: the blasting gospel music from stores and the hip hop (usually Akon) being played by the roaming wheelbarrow street vendors mingles with the car horns of the white NGO trucks and the Premier League football matches being broadcast live on the radio. This cacophony gushes in through my office, which overlooks one of the busiest streets in downtown Monrovia. Ah, to be back in Africa…
In my first couple of weeks here, I've already been very busy: I went clubbing with the Liberian National Basketball coach and half the team. I met one of Charles Taylor's former bodyguards. I went to a UN party and watched with amusement as they all rushed home for their 2am curfew. I went to the beach and watched as several expat surfers strutted around and then wiped out in the very rough surf. I learned to chug a half-liter of cold water out of a plastic bag (cheaper and more common than bottled water) and I've nearly perfected my bucket bath technique. I watched Shrek with the kids in my apartment building and thoroughly enjoyed the inexplicably creative subtitles:
Shrek: No Donkey, you can't stay here, it's my swamp.
(subtitle reads: Horse's Ass, go away, this here my amphibious house)
Donkey: But Shrek, it's not fair
(subtitle reads: History Lake, you are beautiful)
Life in the office is not quite as entertaining, but it's interesting and extremely busy. I am working with Youth Action International (YAI), an NGO that works to support and empower conflict-affected youth in Africa. My good friend from college and internationally recognized child rights activist, Kimmie Weeks, founded YAI a few years ago and has tried to get me to come work with him for years. Thanks to the Insight Fellowship, I finally have that opportunity. My project is to develop new partnerships and programs for YAI, particularly focusing on raising youth awareness of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). I'm also developing a series of workshops for youth groups on peace-building and conflict transformation. Plus I'm going to review and develop all current programs, streamline office efficiency, and conduct trainings for the local staff. So really not all that much to do for the next couple of months…
There aren't as many direct flights between BKK and Monrovia as you would imagine, so my itinerary was somewhat circuitous: I took a long long long flight from Thailand via Qatar to Morocco (where I stopped for a few days and was joined by my father), then on to Senegal (where I crashed for a long weekend at the puppy-infested Zalman Dakar Expat mansion), and finally on to Liberia. Well that last transition wasn't so seamless: I was meant to transit through Abidjan but my onward flight was canceled which stranded me in Côte d'Ivoire. Personally I felt that the unexpected stopover in a crime-ridden post-war city was the perfect introduction to my third and final placement in Liberia.
After a few days I did get a flight out and, despite the Liberian Immigration Dept's best efforts to keep me out (yay for showing up without a visa and nearly getting arrested & deported!), I finally managed to get to Liberia. I have now I've been here nearly two weeks and am gradually settling in....
Unfortunately Monrovia bears the scars of the 12-year Liberian civil war. Scratch that actually, those scars are still open wounds: frequent power cuts, no running water, gutters clogged with casually discarded trash, roads covered in jagged potholes, sewer manholes without covers, small shacks erected between crumbling buildings, rusted barbed wire police roadblocks etc. Monrovia makes Vukovar look like Singapore.
But T.I.A. and, as usual, the population here survives and smiles, from the young war amputees on crutches agilely navigating the rutted sidewalks, to the mamas selling mangoes and grilled cassava on the corner, to the children playing in the rubble of bombed out buildings, to the UNMIL peacekeeping soldiers in their erratic flurries of blue helmet activity. And the street scene has its own unique soundtrack: the blasting gospel music from stores and the hip hop (usually Akon) being played by the roaming wheelbarrow street vendors mingles with the car horns of the white NGO trucks and the Premier League football matches being broadcast live on the radio. This cacophony gushes in through my office, which overlooks one of the busiest streets in downtown Monrovia. Ah, to be back in Africa…
In my first couple of weeks here, I've already been very busy: I went clubbing with the Liberian National Basketball coach and half the team. I met one of Charles Taylor's former bodyguards. I went to a UN party and watched with amusement as they all rushed home for their 2am curfew. I went to the beach and watched as several expat surfers strutted around and then wiped out in the very rough surf. I learned to chug a half-liter of cold water out of a plastic bag (cheaper and more common than bottled water) and I've nearly perfected my bucket bath technique. I watched Shrek with the kids in my apartment building and thoroughly enjoyed the inexplicably creative subtitles:
Shrek: No Donkey, you can't stay here, it's my swamp.
(subtitle reads: Horse's Ass, go away, this here my amphibious house)
Donkey: But Shrek, it's not fair
(subtitle reads: History Lake, you are beautiful)
Life in the office is not quite as entertaining, but it's interesting and extremely busy. I am working with Youth Action International (YAI), an NGO that works to support and empower conflict-affected youth in Africa. My good friend from college and internationally recognized child rights activist, Kimmie Weeks, founded YAI a few years ago and has tried to get me to come work with him for years. Thanks to the Insight Fellowship, I finally have that opportunity. My project is to develop new partnerships and programs for YAI, particularly focusing on raising youth awareness of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). I'm also developing a series of workshops for youth groups on peace-building and conflict transformation. Plus I'm going to review and develop all current programs, streamline office efficiency, and conduct trainings for the local staff. So really not all that much to do for the next couple of months…
Monday, April 28, 2008
Working at YAI
Today was my first real day in the office. Last week, I was given the grand tour and was introduced to my new colleagues, but today was the first real day of work. I am working with Youth Action International (YAI), an NGO that works to support and empower conflict-affected women, children, and youth in postwar African countries. My good friend from college and internationally recognized child rights activist, Kimmie Weeks, founded YAI a few years ago and has tried to get me to come work with him for years. Thanks to the Fellowship, I finally have that opportunity.
More than simply working here, I am actually in charge. Kimmie is finishing up his Masters degree in the States and he has made me YAI’s Acting Director for the duration of my placement here. While I have experience running student organizations in college, I have never been in charge of an actual non-profit organization. I am excited and terrified at the same time; excited by the opportunity to really challenge myself and develop my leadership and management skills and terrified that I will somehow mess it all up. In some dark moments of paranoia, I have visions of myself really blundering in my every undertaking and basically capsizing the efforts of this NGO. Those visions usually pass quickly though, as I realize that while I’m certainly not the most experienced person for this job, thanks to the skills and personal development emphasized by the Fellowship, I am actually pretty well equipped to manage this responsibility.
The responsibility is the following: my project is to develop new partnerships and programs for YAI, which means networking and building relationships with many of the other NGOs in Monrovia. I'm particularly focusing on raising youth awareness of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) while also developing a series of workshops for youth groups on peace-building and conflict transformation. Plus I'm going to review and develop all current programs, streamline office efficiency, and conduct trainings for the local staff. So really not all that much to do for the next couple of months…
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Hardship Placement
Two days ago, I finally got a flight out of Côte d’Ivoire and, despite the Liberian Immigration Dept's best efforts to keep me out (yay for showing up without a visa and nearly getting arrested & deported!) I managed to get into Liberia. I have now been here a few days and am gradually settling in…
I live about 2 buildings down from the office so my commute to work will take about 54 seconds—a refreshing change from my long commute in Thailand. My apartment building feels quite secure: not only do we have a 24h security guard, but we're also on one of the few streets that has functioning street lights and we're right across the street from the Ministry of Defense which has a division of the Nigerian Battalion (NIBATT) of the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) constantly guarding the building and patrolling the street.
However this placement in Liberia definitely wins the “hardship” award for the Fellowship year in terms of my living situation. Firstly, there are a lot of problems with the power supply to the apartment. Due to the destruction of infrastructure during the years of civil war, there is no way to provide a blanket electricity supply for the whole city. Some local businesses and landlords purchase large commercial generators and charge people in the neighborhood to hook up to it. Others rely on gasoline-fueled personal generators. However the rapidly rising cost of fuel is forcing people to cut back on their generator usage. We have a generator, but due to the expense, we're trying to only use it when the power is really cut, not when it just pops off for 15min.
In addition, there is no running water in the apartment (or the office for that matter). Again due to infrastructure destruction during the war, there are few functional sewage and sanitation facilities. UNMIL has built a couple, but most buildings don’t even have any pipes because the lead and copper were stolen by looters during the war. In order to have water for bathing, cooking etc, our houseboy Bishop takes care of keeping several large water containers filled.
I live with between 5 and 9 Liberians, depending on the day of the week. My full-time roommates include my colleague Isaac and his wife Kula. They have a 5 yr old daughter called Fate who usually stays with her grandparents because Isaac's house burned down last year and they are starting from scratch. My other roommate is Charlotte. She is getting a degree in sociology and has a cute 7-year-old son, Gus, who lives with us. The other roommates are a motley crew of friends, colleagues and extended family members. The apartment is usually bustling, busy with lots of people hanging out, talking and eating in the big living room. When the power is on, they watch bootleg Chinese DVDs of mediocre American movies or listen to live broadcasts of Premier League football matches on the radio. When the power goes off and the apartment gets unbearably hot and stuffy since the fans are off, everyone sits outside, either on our wide balcony or downstairs on the street, chatting with neighbors, friends, and passersby. I usually join them in the evenings, though I struggle to participate in the conversations since the English spoken in Liberia is about as comprehensible as Icelandic to me. No one really knows what to make of this random white woman who is all of a sudden living with them. However, as in every other African country I’ve been to, everyone is incredibly warm and friendly-- and they usually take pity on my confusion and translate their discussions and patiently try to teach me how to understand Liberian English.
I live about 2 buildings down from the office so my commute to work will take about 54 seconds—a refreshing change from my long commute in Thailand. My apartment building feels quite secure: not only do we have a 24h security guard, but we're also on one of the few streets that has functioning street lights and we're right across the street from the Ministry of Defense which has a division of the Nigerian Battalion (NIBATT) of the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) constantly guarding the building and patrolling the street.
However this placement in Liberia definitely wins the “hardship” award for the Fellowship year in terms of my living situation. Firstly, there are a lot of problems with the power supply to the apartment. Due to the destruction of infrastructure during the years of civil war, there is no way to provide a blanket electricity supply for the whole city. Some local businesses and landlords purchase large commercial generators and charge people in the neighborhood to hook up to it. Others rely on gasoline-fueled personal generators. However the rapidly rising cost of fuel is forcing people to cut back on their generator usage. We have a generator, but due to the expense, we're trying to only use it when the power is really cut, not when it just pops off for 15min.
In addition, there is no running water in the apartment (or the office for that matter). Again due to infrastructure destruction during the war, there are few functional sewage and sanitation facilities. UNMIL has built a couple, but most buildings don’t even have any pipes because the lead and copper were stolen by looters during the war. In order to have water for bathing, cooking etc, our houseboy Bishop takes care of keeping several large water containers filled.
I live with between 5 and 9 Liberians, depending on the day of the week. My full-time roommates include my colleague Isaac and his wife Kula. They have a 5 yr old daughter called Fate who usually stays with her grandparents because Isaac's house burned down last year and they are starting from scratch. My other roommate is Charlotte. She is getting a degree in sociology and has a cute 7-year-old son, Gus, who lives with us. The other roommates are a motley crew of friends, colleagues and extended family members. The apartment is usually bustling, busy with lots of people hanging out, talking and eating in the big living room. When the power is on, they watch bootleg Chinese DVDs of mediocre American movies or listen to live broadcasts of Premier League football matches on the radio. When the power goes off and the apartment gets unbearably hot and stuffy since the fans are off, everyone sits outside, either on our wide balcony or downstairs on the street, chatting with neighbors, friends, and passersby. I usually join them in the evenings, though I struggle to participate in the conversations since the English spoken in Liberia is about as comprehensible as Icelandic to me. No one really knows what to make of this random white woman who is all of a sudden living with them. However, as in every other African country I’ve been to, everyone is incredibly warm and friendly-- and they usually take pity on my confusion and translate their discussions and patiently try to teach me how to understand Liberian English.
Monday, April 21, 2008
From Bangkok to Monrovia... -ish
Last week, I packed up my apartment in Bangkok and left Thailand as discreetly as possible—so as to avoid getting soaked with water and chalk powder by the revelers celebrating Songkran, the wet & wild Thai New Year that coincided with my departure date. There aren't as many direct flights between Bangkok and Monrovia as you would imagine, so my itinerary was somewhat circuitous: I first took a long flight from Thailand to Qatar, and then from Qatar to Morocco. I stopped over in my fellow Fellow’s first placement country for a few days and took in a little sightseeing:
In front of the Hassan II Mosque, the second largest mosque in the world, in Casablanca
I then flew to Senegal and finally on to Liberia. Well that last transition is actually still in progress: I was meant to transit through Côte d’Ivoire but my onward flight was canceled without warning and I’m now kind of stranded in Abidjan. My French fluency and US citizenship got me out of what could have been a really miserable situation and personally I’m enjoying this little unexpected adventure. This stopover in a crime-ridden postwar city is the perfect introduction to my third and final placement in Liberia. Clearly my family is not as thrilled, but the airline is taking care of me and I should be getting on a flight to Liberia within a few days at most... Fingers crossed!
I then flew to Senegal and finally on to Liberia. Well that last transition is actually still in progress: I was meant to transit through Côte d’Ivoire but my onward flight was canceled without warning and I’m now kind of stranded in Abidjan. My French fluency and US citizenship got me out of what could have been a really miserable situation and personally I’m enjoying this little unexpected adventure. This stopover in a crime-ridden postwar city is the perfect introduction to my third and final placement in Liberia. Clearly my family is not as thrilled, but the airline is taking care of me and I should be getting on a flight to Liberia within a few days at most... Fingers crossed!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Day at the Beach
I was surprised when I arrived at the office this morning to find it empty. When I got back home, my roommate/colleague Isaac explained that today was a Liberian national holiday known as Unification Day. Soon afterwards, I got a phone call from friend whose Liberian colleagues also neglected to warn her about the holiday. Unlike me, she has the flexibility and independence of her own car and when she suggested going to the beach for the day, I jumped on the opportunity. We rounded up some other friends and drove out the Thinkers Beach (pronounced “tinkas beesh”) for the day. I’ve heard rumors about how nice Liberian beaches are, but have so far been unimpressed by the ones in the city that are unfortunately used as trash dumps. Thinkers is about 20km down the coast from Monrovia and the stretch of beach is rather pristine. While the surf is rough and actually rather dangerous, the beach itself is lovely. It’s a popular Sunday getaway for both expats and Liberians, though the former are baking in the sun and braving the water for swimming and surfing while the latter tend to sit in the shade and sip cold bottle of the local Club beer (rumored to contain formaldehyde), knowingly shaking their heads at the silly foreigners jumping in the water.
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