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.
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