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