I realize it’s no longer Monday, but I figure I get a coupleof days of wiggle room with the time difference and the holiday and whatnot...right? Also this is a long onejust giving a recap of my day, the short version is that while I’m having agood time I wish I was home spending Thanksgiving with friends and family. Iwas in Thailand for Thanksgiving last year, and at least this year I’ve gotother Americans around to celebrate with, definitely something to be thankfulfor.
Monday
After a good weekend full of work and sunshine and even alittle BBQ by the pool I was ready for my second week in Monrovia to begin. Iset my alarm, hopped into bed, did a little light reading and called it anight.
I was shocked awake by my phone. It was someone from work,where was I? It was 9:30 and I had overslept by 2.5 hours after getting littlesleep during the night itself! While I hate being late in general, Iparticularly try to avoid it in places where the general trend is to be late.In my mind if I consistently show up to things like meetings on time, maybeeveryone else will start to also? It could happen.
I went into the bathroom, only to find that the lightbulbturned on and promptly went out. Fabulous. Dark cold shower. I headed to worksoon after, speed walking my way through crowds of people on Tubman Blvd tryingto hail taxis. If I could describe the taxis here to you, I’d say to imaginewhat you’ve heard about Japanese elevators; that there are “elevator packers”who push more and more people in to be sure the elevator is at capacity. Alltaxis here are shared, and there is no limit to the number of people you canfit inside. If you find a taxi going your direction (you flag them down withdifferent hand signals depending on which of the major roads you want to godown), it will slow down and you open the back or front door, looking in to seewho can squeeze over. It is common place for there to be 4 or 5 people in theback seat and 2 in the front seat. Needless to say the competition for taxis istough.
I arrived at work at about 10, only to find that there wasno car to take a colleague and me to a meeting. I suggested we head back out tothe main road to find ourselves a taxi, but after a few minutes of watchingpacked taxis crawl through traffic in the 90+ degree heat, we decided to walkinstead. It wasn’t less hot walking, but at least there was a little breeze. Wearrived at the government office dripping and a little out of breath, but righton time after a 30 minute walk.
After the meeting we went on to walk to our next meeting.I’m here helping an umbrella body for public health research organize for it’snext project, and the task begins with a meeting with every member of thesteering committee. Walking into downtown Monrovia, we found our next meetingwhich was at the top of a very rickety, very tall, and very steep set ofstairs. After our meeting our colleague led us out to the front door,commenting that they were thinking of moving because it was difficult for thedisabled children they worked with to make it up the stairs. My eyes openedwide imaging young people on crutches or missing parts of legs (the most commonand visibly evident disabilities I’ve seen) trying to make it up 2-3 flights ofuneven tiled stairs. Yes, a move seems in order.
My colleague then suggested we go to his house for lunchsince it was nearby, and previous people working with this project from my jobhad also joined him at his house for a meal. On we went, walking through smallalleys and across big streets until we reached what looked like a gateddriveway. But as in slopeddownwards I saw that, like much of the city, it was actually an interconnectednetwork of paths, unnamed, that you essentially can only get around if you knowthe area. Children ran up as we approached the house, they had been playingoutside and helping to wash dishes. The power in the house was out, butregardless eating at the kitchen table in the pitch black was presented as theonly option. My colleague held his cell phone, which has a small flashlight atthe end of it with one hand, gesturing for me to serve myself. I took what Iconsider a good portion of rice, definitely more than a cup, and he actedsurprised “That’s it?! That’s all?! Well I am African and I am going to EAT!”and he proceeded to fill his bowl until it was brimming with white rice. Wetopped this with a spicy mix of dried fish and cassava greens and palm oil. Itold him it was the most delicious food I’d had since arriving, and also myfirst Liberian food, and I meant it.
We walked back out to the main street to wait for someonefrom our organization to pick us up and drive us back to the office. EnriqueIglesias was blaring from a CD shop and as I started to hum along I saw thatevery fourth or fifth Liberian was also singing along, some even out loud. Igot and gave smiles as we sang along together.
After a long wait a driver pulled up, complaining of thetraffic he’d encountered on his way to fetch us. We found out why about a halfmile later. Coming from the other direction was the CDC protest that was slatedfor that day. CDC is a political party that lost the most recent presidentialelection; there have been protests and right before I came a member of the CDCwas killed in one of the protests. Monday was to be his burial. We crawledalong through traffic as the crowd of CDC members, mostly young, many wearingleaves and branches in their hair with faces painted, chanted and sang. Thencame a truck carrying the coffin of the man who had been killed; they wereparading it throughout the city. It was a group of a couple hundred people,many less than I would have expected. Then we continued on, passing thePresident’s office and UN buildings. Outside were international and nationalarmed forced and police in full riot gear every few yards. Fences werereinforced with sandbags and policemen were directing traffic (a true rarity).
We spent the rest of the day at the office trying toschedule more meetings and working to plan and organize a workshop, which tookplace today. Every day I getdriven home at 5:30 pm, and today when I got home I realized I needed to go tothe grocery store, which is thankfully only a few blocks away. After droppingoff my computer I walked over, darting through traffic into the store. Bigbottles of water for drinking, two lightbulbs to replace the ones that hadburnt out in the apartment where I’m staying, and I tried to buy freshmadehummus but “Is finish, come again”. (Many stores here have Lebanese owners, andI’ve never had such fresh and delicious Lebanese food as in Monrovia!)
As I left the store I was stunned by a huge crowd. The CDCmarch was still going and the number of participants had increased incredibly,as had the number of people gathered along the street to watch. Rush hourtraffic was trying to crawl through, relatively unsuccessfully as peoplewalking, on the backs of trucks and motorbikes passed by, always chanting orsinging. I carefully followed a car across the road to ensure I wasn’t the onecutting in front of the protestors. I then went inside my apartment, and pulledup a seat on my balcony, and sat watching them pass by. They passed inclusters, but there were several thousand people participating without a doubt.From my perch on the second floor I got a couple great pictures as well whichwill have to be shared later.
I then went to install my lightbulbs, the first one didn’twork, the entire socket was burnt out rather than just the bulb. I then wentinto my bathroom to install the second, the bulb was in a regular box but wasred. I sort of threw up my hands and decided to go with it, showering under redlight would be new and exciting. It lit at first, off and on, as I wiggled itaround in the socket, before glowing and going out, leaving me once again inthe dark in the bathroom.
I then went across the street to a restaurant with wifi toeat dinner and get some work done, and the marchers were continuing by, slowernow, less of them, but still going. I sat down and started working, thenordered. But the internet soon went down and as every person behind a computerin the place frantically called the waitress, I gave up, enjoyed my dinner andheaded home to work on the implementation plan for the research.
Certainly not your average day, but definitely one of themost memorable ones I’ve had so far between protests and riot gear and homevisits. If nothing else Monrovia keeps me on my toes.
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