Pre-election Craziness

United Nations helicopters are currently circling the area around my apartment.

My apartment is five minutes from the Congress for Democratic Change (CDC) headquarters. They have been alleging fraud in the first round of elections (held October 11) ever since it was clear they didn’t win. Last week they decided to boycott the runoff elections scheduled for tomorrow, November 8.

In Liberia, no campaigning is allowed the day before elections; it is a day of rest and reflection before voting. The CDC decided to disregard this and hold a rally anyway. The LNP (Liberian National Police) informed them this would not be permitted. They went ahead held the rally. Reports of the numbers in attendance vary from hundreds to thousands, but apparently they tried to block off the road and the riot police and UN were called in. Tear gas was used. Shots were fired. At least one person is dead; several others are wounded.

It was crazy because about an hour before I was in the car with some friends from the office and we were on the way back there, driving on the main road – the road that also leads to the CDC HQ. While stuck in traffic, we saw masses of people heading in the direction of the CDC. We also saw 4 police trucks zoom by – one almost swiped us. We felt trouble was brewing.  

When we got back to the office, we heard that shots were being fired near the CDC headquarters. We decided to close the office early. Since I live five minutes away from the CDC and several of my work colleagues also live in that direction, we had to go that way to go home. On the way, four UN tanks and a few police trucks transporting police with guns (most Liberian police don’t have guns – no money for them) passed us, and all the stores were closed. There is a big open air market near my apartment. It was empty! I’ve never seen it empty. All the shops were closed, some with handwritten signs saying “Will Open on Wednesday.” Some people sell their goods out of wheelbarrows on the side of the road – they were all gone.

Now I’m sitting in my apartment, seeing a helicopter pass by about every 5 minutes. I wonder what will happen tomorrow.  I know I’m an American who can’t fully appreciate all the nuances of the situation and my opinion matters little, but I feel really disappointed with the CDC. So they didn’t win this time, try again next time. They need to have a bigger vision. I wish they would understand that their actions jeopardize Liberia’s future. Peaceful elections will help their society heal from the wounds caused by the 14 years of civil war and encourage foreign investment and development. Liberia needs that.

The CDC contested the last presidential elections in 2005, but after a while they accepted the results and there was peace. If you pray, join me in praying for peace in these elections too. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today is Thanksgiving Day in Liberia! Since I’ll be working on American Thanksgiving Day, I figured I would take this time to list a few things I’m thankful for this year.

I’m thankful to be in Liberia. I’ve been here almost a year already! I’m thankful for this experience, my job, my chance to learn more about Liberia and West Africa, the lessons I’ve learned about development work in the field, the people I’ve met, the friendships I’ve made. Not gonna lie - it’s been a difficult year. Work has been stressful at times. My health has not been great. I miss my family, boyfriend and friends and the comforts of America. Through all those things - both good and bad, I have really been amazed by God’s love and care for me here.

I am SO THANKFUL for peaceful elections in the first round of elections last month. They were the second elections since the end of the war, and after so many years of war, many people were afraid that the elections might serve as an opportunity for people to fall into old habits. It was kind of crazy in the weeks leading up to the election. At work we had to develop contingency plans in case of an outbreak of violence. We had to think about evacuation strategies for our international staff, should it come to that. I’m not sure of the numbers, but I know that hundreds of people left Liberia out of the fear of what might happen. People (myself included) were stockpiling food like they were preparing for a natural disaster. A few buildings were burned down and a few fights broke out, but overall, things were peaceful. I’m praying the peace continues while the voting takes place and the votes are tallied this month.

I know I have complained about my apartment and all its problems when I first came, but it’s grown on me. I’m thankful for my it. It’s a really nice apartment for Liberia, and I’ve had some good times here. I’m thankful that it has electricity 16 hours a day. I’m thankful that it has running water most of the time – around 90% of the homes in Liberia don’t. I’m thankful that I have been safe there. And I am thankful that I don’t see as many bugs as I used to – still more than I’d like, but less than before J

Every year I’m thankful for food. Those of you who know me well know I love to eat! This year though, my thankfulness for food has taken on a new dimension because I’m living in a country where many people only eat one meal a day. Daily I see small children with protruding bellies, a telltale sign of malnutrition, happily playing in the dirt. I don’t want to paint the wrong picture. There are thousands of healthy, clean, well-nourished children here, but for every one of them, there is at least one who does not get enough food. I’m thankful that I have enough food to eat.

I could write a book on all the things I’m thankful for, but those are just a few. Happy Thanksgiving!

A Name and a Gift

This story happened during my hiatus from blogging, but it’s a good one, so I’ll share it now.  A few months ago, I was visiting some of the communities we are doing our program in that I had not been to yet. Some of them are hard to reach because the roads are really bad and they have never had an NGO work with them before. In each community in which we work, we have started a farmers association, and the community I was visiting that day had a farmers’ association composed of only women.  There are 4 other farmers associations in the area but their villages are inaccessible to vehicles, so representatives came to meet us. The women knew we were coming and they prepared a whole welcoming program. They made speeches, had singing and dancing, walked us out to one of their farms and then we returned for the close of the ceremony and lunch.

When we got back to the palava hut, I noticed that one of the women was holding a chicken. I leaned over to my boss and told him, “It looks like you’re getting a chicken.” “What?” he asked. I motioned towards the woman and said “I think you’re getting a chicken.” We both chuckled about it.

Imagine my surprise when a few minutes later, the interpreter (not all of the people speak English, especially outside of Monrovia) called me to the center of the palava hut. The women wanted to thank me for being a mother among the men (the colleagues I was with were all male). They then gave me a Liberian name, Daconte, a biblical name, they explained, which means everything in its time. They felt that this was the right time for the program to come to them and for me to be among them. It was a beautiful moment. Then, one of the women stepped up to give me a gift - the chicken with flapping wings and tied beak and feet.

I was thinking, “Oh, Lord! What do I do?!” But I smiled, took the chicken, holding it as she had, and thanked her. She then plucked one of the feathers from the chicken and stuck it in my hair and we posed for pictures. I whispered to one of our field staff, “What do I do??” He said I should give a thank you speech, so I did. Afterwards, the leader of the association told me, “Daconte, you can take that chicken home and cook it for your husband!”

I just smiled a big smile and said “Thank you!” I didn’t want to tell her I’m not married  - I have had that conversation many times – but that’s a post for another day. 

Quality Time in the Pickup Truck

Last Saturday I was on my way back from our field offices, 185 miles away. If the roads were paved all the way, it would take 3 or 4 hours. They aren’t though, so instead, in dry season, it takes 10 hours. Now that we have been in rainy season for months, the dirt roads have turned to mud. That means we have to go slower – driving in mud is like driving in snow. Plus, large trucks with heavy loads get stuck daily and block the way for everyone for hours. This last trip back from the county office took 16 HOURS.

A little before 8:00 we left the guesthouse where we were staying, happy to see it wasn’t raining. A colleague told us, “God is smiling on you.” The first few hours of the trip were bumpy but good, and then we came to a standstill. There were so many cars stopped that we couldn’t see the cause of the delay. People had gotten out of their cars and were sitting outside and walking up and down the road. The driver got out to see what the problem was. Sure enough, a large truck was stuck in the mud. We waited an hour. The truck was able to be pushed over enough for cars to pass. We didn’t even drive 5 minutes when there was another standstill. Two large trucks were stuck in opposing sides of traffic. There was a pretty steep mudbank on the side of the road, but the driver decided to go for it. He drove the pickup off to the right, trying to climb the mudbank – and didn’t make it. He tried again, the wheels started spinning. Some men from the nearby village came to help push him. They tried but couldn’t get the car out. A Bangladeshi man watching from the UN truck next to us shook his head and wagged his finger “no” at us.

It was a crazy scene. There were about 10 men yelling directions. “Go de!”, “Stop!”, “Go, go, go!” Finally one took the lead, told me and my colleague to get out of the car, told the driver to go back and then try again with the 10 men pushing him. They did it! They were covered in mud – I felt bad for them. We thanked them, paid them a little something, and were on our way.

We weren’t even halfway at that point. When we reached the half-way point, my colleague suggested we stop for lunch. I didn’t want to eat anything because I don’t really love the food in that town. I did however, stop at the one gas station that has a bathroom (yes, there is only one bathroom along the 10-12 hour route).After a half hour, food, gas, bathroom break, we were on our way. We reached Monrovia a little before 8:00 p.m. I was so glad! I couldn’t wait to drive the 15 minutes to my apartment, drink some water, eat some food and take a shower. We dropped off my colleague and the driver and I continued to our area. We live on the same road. Unfortunately, two minutes later, traffic came to a halt.

The cars in both directions were completely stopped. The driver got out to see what was happening. Presidential elections are next month, and the president’s party, the Unity Party, had kicked off their campaign that day. For the next 4 HOURS we inched our way along the route that should have taken 15 minutes. I got to my apartment around midnight. There is only one road that goes through the city so we all just drove, stopped, parked, drove small, stopped, parked for 4 hours.

Unfortunate. 16 HOURS later, I finally arrived in my apartment. I thanked God, went to turn on my water for the shower and nothing came out – there was no water. Oh, Liberia…Not my favorite day.

Thank God

One of my favorite things about Liberia is a small thing that happens every day. In the morning when you see someone you usually ask, “How are you?”, “How was the night” or “How de body?” The usual reply is “Fine”, “Yeah” or “Thank God.”

I love that last one!

The first time I heard someone say it I was like, “What?” The man said, “Oh, thank God for what he has done for us. We made it safely through the night.” I smiled, nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, thank God. We did.”

I’m not sure if it started during the 14 years of civil war that plunged everyday life into chaos or if people were saying it before then, but I like it. Both Muslims and Christians say it - it's great! Since coming to Liberia, I have found that I wake up with a new level of thankfulness. My bed is REALLY uncomfortable. The power goes out in the middle of the night and the a/c goes off. Sometimes I wake up with random bug bites.  During rainy season, the roof leaks sometimes. 

Every night when I have dinner, I thank God – not everyone here does. When I have had a good night’s sleep, I thank God. When I wake up in a comfortable temperature in my own apartment, safe and sound, with no bug bites and no new water stains on my ceiling, I thank God. 

Thank God for all he has done for us.  J

The Bathroom

I’ve always had a thing for bathrooms. I LOVE nice bathrooms and if at all possible try to avoid not-so-nice ones. I remember once when I was in sixth grade my mom took me on a trip with her (she’s a flight attendant) and we spent a few days in Germany. We visited some castles and to this day, one of the things that sticks out most was a white marble bathroom with gold fixtures. I still remember excitedly telling my mom, “Mommy! Take a picture of me next to this toilet!” 

Fast forward a few years. During undergrad, I was in Egypt in the Sinai Desert and there were no bathrooms. Being the lover of bathrooms that I was, I just didn’t go to the bathroom - for over 12 hours... (ha – my insides hurt for another 12 hours after I finally did get to a toilet. Lesson learned there. That’s another story.) It took a couple years though, when I was in the mountains of Colorado, before I gave in to the fact that you can go to the bathroom without a toilet.

The bathroom situation in Liberia is an interesting one. Running water is a luxury here and not all places have toilets. And, even if they do, there’s a good chance that they don’t have running water. Many places (restaurants, offices, government buildings, hotels/guesthouses outside of Monrovia, the capital city) have a large trash can full of water and a small bucket so you are able to “manually” flush the toilet yourself by pouring water into the toilet. I remember when I first was preparing to fly out of Liberia’s airport when I was going to Senegal, I went online to find out about their check-in procedures (and to see if they mentioned anything about bathrooms so I would know how much water to drink that day). On one of the airport’s information pages they proudly proclaimed “We have toilets!” and I was like, “YES!!! Thank you, God!”

About a month ago when I was going to America for leave, I flew from Monrovia to Accra, Accra to Atlanta, Atlanta to Philadelphia. I had two hours in Atlanta – a really tight connection, especially since you have to pick up your checked bags, clear customs, recheck your bags and go through security again. After I cleared security, I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I was worried it was close. After I went through the metal detector, I just grabbed my bags, laptop and toiletries, threw on my flip-flops and speed walked to the gate. (I’m sure I looked awesome, especially after spending 15+ hours on a plane coming over the Atlantic.) When I got to the gate I asked the agent if the flight had started boarding yet. It hadn’t - I had 15 minutes! Whew! Thank God! I had time to go to the bathroom! Coffee and water on the flight + no chance to use the restroom since I got off the plane = my bladder feeling like it was going to explode.

This is the moment I wanted to tell you about. Now I realize, some of you won’t be touched at all, but this was one of the best moments of my journey to America. So I walked to the bathroom, and as soon as I turned the corner I let out an involuntary “Oh my gosh!” Some people looked at me questioningly, and I motioned that I was fine. I was just struck by the beauty of the bathroom! There were full length mirrors, nice lighting, at least 6 sinks and at least 12 stalls. And it just got better inside the stall!

Once I wrestled my suitcase and over-the-shoulder bag inside and locked the door I was happy to see a relatively clean toilet, toilet paper AND toilet seat guards. Not only that, but the toilet had water and flushed. Not only that, but it was an environmentally friendly, automatic flushing toilet! And, there were no bugs in there! At the sink, both soap and water flowed automatically when I put my hands close to their respective sensors! The paper towels were automatically dispensed too! I almost took a picture, but I knew people would judge me. That was the moment when I said to myself, "Welcome back to America." 

I’m Back

Hey Everyone. I realize I haven’t blogged in a few months. Work got crazy. I had some health problems from the medication I was taking to prevent malaria. And I think the biggest reason is because it felt kind of awkward. I started the blog so people in America could know what my experiences were like in Liberia. But, after being here for a few months, I made some Liberian friends and we’re friends on facebook, which means they can see my blog too. It felt weird to me – kind of like if you were telling a close friend something that happened to you and then an acquaintance walked up and started listening. You might not mind that they’re listening, but maybe you wouldn’t have told them the story or if you had, you would have shared it differently. I wasn’t really sure how to deal with this, but have decided that I’m sticking with the original intention – to let people back in the US know what it’s like for me as an American to live and work in Liberia, my experiences, perceptions and feelings. Plus, the sharing of backgrounds and personal stories is one way acquaintances get to be friends. 


I have found that a lot of the Liberians I talk to are interested in what my life is like in the States and what I think about their country. Part of me was worried about what people would think about what I think about living here. But then I remember how whenever I have friends from other countries and they, sometimes shyly, sometimes brazenly, sometimes excitedly, sometimes angrily, tell me how they feel about my country and the experiences they've had there, I'm always interested to hear what they have to say. Now I find myself in their position. So here we go! I'm putting my life out there again!