Welcome to Liberia

Customs Agent: Is this your first time in Liberia?

Me: Yes, it is

Customs Agent: Ah! You are welcome!

I know now, that this is simply a common greeting inLiberia. After the introduction people say “You are welcome!”, whether it is ata restaurant or a government office. It’s quite a nice way to start aninteraction.

I was picked up from the airport and driven into Monrovia,and fields slowly turned into small buildings, which turned into slightlylarger buildings and the streets got busier. We passed the CDC, the oppositionparty headquarters where election violence had occurred days earlier. We passedCharles Taylor’s house, then his wife’s house.  It seemed like almost all the billboards we passed wereplaced by the government, reminding residents to pay their taxes, to sharetheir opinion with the ballot box and not with guns, showing them the changesthat had occurred since the last election, with bridges built and roads paved,promoting women and girls’ participation in decision-making. We pulled into aparking lot of a two storey building,  and two men who had been waiting to show me into myguesthouse took my bags. First on unlocked the large padlock, attached to achain locking a gate at the bottom of the stairs. He explained that I wasalways to lock it whenever I was entering or leaving. He then used the light onhis cellphone (who needs an iPhone when you have a Nokia with a built-inflashlight!) to show me up the stairs, leading to a door with a small balconyin front of it. He then unlocked another padlock, as well as a deadbolt. Heshowed me inside the apartment, but there was no power. With his flashlight heshowed me how to lock the deadbolt on the handle of the door, followed by thesliding deadbolts at the bottom and top of the door. [A post about security ison its way to explain all the locks] He then gave me a tour of the apartment bthe light of his phone: the kitchen, leading into a bathroom, the living room,a random room with an ironing board and a stack of mattress, and a largebedroom, with another bathroom attached. It looked lovely through the beam ofthe light. Before I arrived I was told I’d be staying in a guesthouse, and thatif it wasn’t up to my standards I could move to a hotel. After over 24 hours oftravel, the one bedroom apartment was more than I could have hoped for.

The next morning things weren’t quite so bright, and after avisit to the Stop & Shop (!) down the street I spent the better part of theday sweeping and scrubbing and mopping. But I’m happy here, with a smallkitchen to cook in, a grocery store nearby, a bustling street below, and airconditioners for when the temperature soars. There’s even a café across thestreet with wi-fi if I get the urge to check my email or chat with all of you.

Any of you who have been following my blog for several yearsknow that while I have had several experiences working in Africa before, I havenever felt welcomed in this way before. Once I was taking a picture on one ofmy first days, and didn’t realize it was a sight owned by the government. Amilitary truck rolled up and a man yelled at me, threatened to arrest me, toldme to go back to where I came from. After I convinced him not to throw myentire camera into a field of rubbish, he proceeded to throw only the memorycard. On another trip I was told to lie about where I was from because peopledidn’t take kindly to Americans, and was sat in the middle of the back of UNvehicles whenever possible, so it was harder for people to tell there was awhite person in the car. I had good times on those and other trips as well, butit always felt like a struggle. I fall in love with most of the places I travelto, and always wondered why I had yet to fall in love with Africa like I hadLatin America, Asia, and the Pacific. I get it now. It’s amazing what adifference people being nice to you can make. It almost makes you want to benice to all the tourists in Times Square. Almost.

I regret that the only thing I forgot at home is the cableto transfer pictures form my computer. (Okay not the only thing, but brushingmy hair is overrated anyway). But I promise to show you everything when I getback.