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).