stone age

crack.
crack.
crack, crack.
i have just written about stepping back in time with housing, but today i stepped back in time and into a different world.
crack.
i was getting a tour a some different areas around where i live and work from some of the teachers i have been working with and they took me (thanks esther) to rock hill.
crack, crack.
the sound i was consistently hearing was not that of fireworks or even a gun, but rather the sound of hammers striking rock.
back before the wars here, they had industrial machines that crushed rock. now they have dozens and dozens of people who do the work by hand and without any modern tools. as i walked around, i saw the whole process: first the guys who would burn a car tire on or under the rock they wanted to remove. the heat would soften the rock and make it easier to extract. secondly, they would go in with pick axes and sledgehammers and break out big chunks of rock. thirdly, those big chucks would be purchased and brought by hand to a nearby area where it would be broken down. fourth, the rocks would go down an invisible order of people who would make the rock progressively smaller and smaller. until finally, you would have the people who would gather the small rocks and fill a halved three gallon plastic, water jug with the crushed rock, put it on their head, and walk to the end of the street where it would be sold to whoever drove up to by the rock.
crack.
the sold rock sells for 25 liberian dollars a split jug. there are 60 liberian dollars for every 1 usa dollar.
crack, crack.
i saw everyone from little boys and girls to old men and women doing this work.
imagine a boy of fifteen sitting on a rock with his knees up and out. the soles of his sandaled feet are facing one another under the gaze of his unprotected eyes. every few seconds he brings down a one pound hammer to make the four inch rock become half its original size. after breaking one, he breaks another, and another, and another.
i was thinking many things as i watched this. i will share two. what if all the ex-combatants who are missing legs and are on the streets of monrovia begging for money moved to a place like this and applied themselves to crushing rock with their strong upper bodies? would they be willing to apply themselves to such tedious work? also, what if someone brought in a big rock crushing machine which could do this all at the push of a button or two? this machine could be a hundred times faster and much more efficient, but dozens of people who are just eking by would be out of a job entirely...

pictures - not yet

i know many of you are anxious to move beyond my fragmented and inconsistent posting of words to see pictures. well, i continue to have problems posting those much cherished photos, but i do promise to post photos when i return to the states and have a chance to download what i have taken.

nimba county, part IV

driving out of monrovia brought me directly into the pages of a national geographic magazine. the cinderblock homes with tin roofs dissolved into dense jungle only to be broken up by small villages dotting the lanscape here and there. these villages invariably had at least (if not all) homes made from clay bricks and thatched roofs. at first i had to blink my eyes to assure myself that was seeing was not a mirage but a reality.
there would be at least one thatched roof building, where the palm fronds would reach about a foot shy of the ground. but the ends would be open and the smoke from the fire and the cooking food would come streaming out.
and the homes, simple as they were, were much more creatively decorated from the outside than our own. instead of monochromatic or dichromatic exterior with little design, many of the homes were decorated with dimple designs which gave the home personality. think of an adobe wall from the southwest united states with white hand prints repeated over and over again on a wall. or a geometric design.

nimba county, part III

as we snaked out of red light i had a foretaste of the road conditions i would face on the journey ahead. potholes were ever present. things and people ran across the road without warning.
during the trip i would see chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, kids, men with large burdens, massive potholes, massive puddles, broken down cars, broken down trucks, broken bridges, wreckages of vehicles, trucks stuck in mud and probably many other things i am failing to remember right now.
some interesting things:

• when a car or truck breaks down on or near the road, they do not have the reflective triangles we have. instead, they pull out clumps of grass or weeds and place them on the road to give drivers a warning.
• taxis honk. and then honk some more. honking can mean the typical "get out of my way" or it can mean "hello", "what's up", "come over here", "test, test, 1,2,3, test", among others.
• much of liberia was paved before the civil wars broke out in '89. so in places there are vestiges of good road but most of the roads are like a war zone. if you could watch people drive, you would think they are drunk as they weave back and forth across the road to avoid the pot holes. what i found to be really interesting was that as we went further and further from monrovia the roads seemed to be as bad or worse. but instead of weaving back and forth on the pavement, the most common path was off the pavement entirely. visualize a paved road ahead of you with multiple potholes. then imagine ruts off the road on either side where the cars actually pass...
  

nimba county, part II

rufus and i worked our way to the back of the throng of people at red light to the taxis heading to the interior. as with purchasing anything here, one must bargain, haggle, and verbally wrestle with those from whom you are trying to purchase something.
on this occasion the haggling was over the price. rufus had convinced me that i am not yet an african and i could not handle riding a long distance like an african [like other 3rd world countries, people are packed in like sardines into vehicles]. rufus worked out purchasing three "seats" for the two of us so i could have the front seat of the old nissan sunny for the 5-6 hour drive to myself. [though i though i might be able to handle it, i am not sure. i have shared the front seat many times now and it is far from comfortable. the old cars that comprise the legions of taxis are usually formed seats that bite into one's back when you are not sitting in them properly. and the road was far from a smooth ride. actually, i think some enterprising teenager should come up with a driving video game where you need to avoid pot holes, animals, men with machetes, massive red-mud puddles that could absorb a car, and other such pitfalls...]
after all was arranged, i sheepishly sat in the front seat by myself while rufus shared the back seat with three other grown men. i am spoiled.

nimba county, part I

wednesday morning, i packed my backpack full of the minimal necessities and rufus and i went to the red light.
i cannot remember if i talked about red light before so i will just mention it briefly.
of course, in most of our minds "red light" brings with it a certain connotation of that shady part of a city whose primary source of commerce (to be unnecessarily kind) is sex. in this case, strike that from your mind.
red light, in paynesville, liberia, is outside of monrovia and is a bustling, crazy-busy area with peddlers of anything and everything (that is, within the confines of liberian economy). to drive through is to be like moses, only you are parting a sea of people.
the red light is called such because it - had a stop light. simple as that. the stop light is still there. but like other intersections, it hangs limply and without light (in fact, i am only aware of only one working stoplight in all of liberia).
it is from this mass of humanity that we ventured into the interior - the bush.
[if you have been reading my posts, it was at the red light that my car ran out of gas and some people found great humor in the fact that "white man's car broke down". i have only one or two sly pictures taken here because the crime is pretty high and to pull out my camera would prove to be too great a temptation for some...]

return from the interior

silence.
it can be sweet or maddening.
there is something i love about being disconnected from technology and those things that make me comfortable. i had that this week. but there is something disconcerting about being disconnected, separated from the rest of the world. thus it feels good to be back and typing at this computer.

u.s. embassy

when you travel, you learn how the rest of the world thinks of you and your country.
being an american citizen, i am faced with interesting questions.
today i went to the american embassy for the first time. i had a few questions for them, but i was asked the question by a liberian why our embassy is so heavily barricaded. not only does it have the high walls, razor wire, guards and heavy doors that other embassies have, but we also have the road blocked off (much to the frustration of local drivers and taxis) and baracades even around all the entrances.
what are we afraid off?
it is unfortunate but it seems that the perception of the government is so economically driven that any assistance we would provide to a country is not out of general good will but some sort of economic quid pro quo. this bums me out.
on a side note. most people here are pro democratic party. why? because the republicans are a pro-war party. interesting. though not nuanced, it is definately true when looking at the current administration.
i have many more thoughts on this but i hesistate to say to much lest i step on too many toes...

cane juice

anyone ever had cane juice before?
i live 3/4 of a mile back on a quite rough dirt road. instead of taking a taxi or riding on a motorcycle, i have made it a habit to walk the distance and make friends on the way. being that i stand out, making friends and meeting people is extrodinarily easy -- and fun.
today as i was making my way back by the merchants of every sort, i saw five middle-aged men sitting in what could loosely be called a cafe. they all had little plastic shot glasses, limes and a bottle of something on table.
of course, i stopped and inquired.
ah, this is cane juice. it is a whiskey type drink distilled from sugar cane. as i watched them pound the drink, i was invited to join in. tis powerful stuff. worthy of a shot.

the entrepreneurial spirit, the shady side

yesterday, i noted some of the ways people make money to survive here. they certainly can be creative. today, i will mention a few that i encountered today which are likewise creative, but are also on the shady side (some might even call them illegal).
after teaching this morning, i needed to head downtown monrovia to go to the immigration office. my friend too had some business downtown. we stood on the edge of the road with our arm extended waving our hand at the wrist indicating our desire for a taxi. as always, it was not only us looking for a taxi but all of liberia as well. one can wait for quite some time before you can elbow your way into a taxi for a ride (sometimes the elbowing is both literal and necessary).
but this afternoon, instead of being greeted by the typical beat-up mess of an ancient nissan with plastic bags for seats, a relatively new s.u.v. stopped. i was greeted with a/c and music. how nice. well this nice government official was using his government car to very kindly taxi us and others where we wanted to go for a "small inconvenience" fee. how legal is it to use a gov't vehicle to make some money on the side?
our first stop was undp (united nation development projects). they help were providing some funds for an organization my friend works for. he was there for the third time to pick up the check that was to be ready many days ago. unfortunately, each time he goes to pick up the check there is some sort of problem. this problem could be eleviated and the funds could be released with some palm greasing. of course, this is never stated, but it seems that the check can be obtained at odd hours or on the weekend when the higher-ups are not around...
next i went to the immigration office. prior to coming to liberia i had purchased a visa for $100 which gave me 90 days in the country. when i arrived at the airport here, i was surprised to see that the stamp they put in my passport only gave me 30 days at which time i would need to renew it. i inquired at the time and they said i would need to check in at the immigration office to get an extension. when i arrived at the building, an immigration officer said i need to give her $25 dollars and she will get me a new stamp to extend my stay. i balked. i asked for documentation of this hidden and unknown fee. she could not produce any. i kindly demanded to either talk to someone who was her superior or to see documentation. after pushing aside two other officers and being delayed, at last i was ushered into the back halls of the immigration building.
i was brought to a kind, well-dressed, and obviously well fed lady who told me the visa in my passport only gets me into the country and the stamp in my passport allows me to stay. and it was now time for me to pay. i had two options: either go to a bank tomorrow, fill out an application, provide two-passport photos, and pay $20, or i could pay $25 dollars to her right then and there and get the stamp without the bank, form, or photos. the extra $5 is a "processing fee". hum. i decide to forgo the former option in favor of the latter.

the entrepreneurial spirit

how does it go? necessity is the mother of invention.
with unemployment absurdly high in liberia, most people are forced into finding ways or finding things to sell in order to make a living. below are a few of the more creative and/or odd (from my privileged western perspective) things i have seen:

• guys selling rubber bands downtown monrovia (for the money changers who have huge wads of bills
• kids with multi-colored rolls of plastic bags on their heads for sale
• a street side merchant with two wheel barrows full of 6-9 inch snails from the bush
• the young men with an umbrella over their heads with a bundle of umbrellas at their feet for sale
• bananas, peanuts, monkey apples, baked goods, gum, and whatever else placed on the merchants head to sell to whomever is interested
• men who slow traffic down by working on the innumerable pot holes in hopes that passers-by in cars will tip them for their hard labor (a football team was out doing this on our local road recently to make money for uniforms)
• in busy market areas, men will help people find taxis (whether they want or need this help is irrelevant) for a fee

sirleaf, china, and football

last night clarence, a friend and assistant to rufus in reap, took me to the national stadium. it was originally built under the rule of samuel k. doe. [doe was the guy who lead the coup of the elected administration of tolbert. doe executed the president and most of his administration. it was the attempt to overthrow doe by charles taylor in 1990 that brought more than a decade of civil war.]
during the war, the stadium was ransacked and ravaged (like the rest of the country). since the relative peace that has reigned in liberia in the past handful of years with the heavy presence of united nations forces, one nation in particular has chosen to invest in this war torn, but resource rich country.
no, not the united states; not the country that liberia so desperately wants to emulate.
instead much of the work done here from roads to recreation is coming from the chinese. i do not want to get into the potential ramifications of this here, but as an american, i find this discouraging.
well, the chinese decided to renivate liberia's largest stadium. surrounded by deserted and half-built buildings, lightless street lights, and men hawking goods out of wheel barrows, the bright lights of the stadium make it shine like a jewel. people flocked to the official handing over of the keys to the stadium from the chinese to the liberian government.
the u.n. and national police had a heavy presence. the president, ellen johnson sirleaf, was present and spoke. the sound was so poor i could not hear what she was saying. the big screen on the far end of the field used bright colors and bulbs to display its various messages of unity between the two countries. then it did not work. it was rebooted. then it did not work again. they rebooted. it flickered. chinese technology?
the stadium will be used primarily for football. or if you are american, soccer. it was a beautiful field. i have become so accustomed to makeshift fields and goals that the other day i stood mouth agape at metal goalposts. most fields are full of puddles, holes, weeds, and have makeshift wooden goals with no nets. [when i play with the kids in my neighborhood, we use cinderblocks for goals.]
all things considered, it is exciting to see improvement here. i pray all work done by the chinese really helps the people of liberia. in the same light, i pray that president sirleaf does all within her power to serve her people and fight the rampant corruption found in this country.

taxi

this morning, on the way to church, i took a taxi.
this would be fairly unremarkable except for the fact that the taxi was a minivan and i was one of twenty seven people in the vehicle.
think benches instead of pilot seats.
think sardines.
think cheap transportation.

african freedom (potentially too much information)

the other day i stepped in the shower as i usually do a little before 7am.
[it should be admitted that my accommodations are not typical for these parts; i have running cold water and a fairly common american bathroom sans shower head on the shower wall (instead i have a hose with a head on the end). the running water comes from a massive 5000 gallon tank on a two story cement pedestal. gravity does the rest. admittedly i do miss hot showers. but having running water is a privilege i appreciate.]
the cold water came out a little slow with very little pressure. nevertheless i lathered up and started the cleaning process. while i lathered i had the water off. when i tried to turn it back on to rinse off, there was only about three drops that fell out apologetically. fortunately, being rainy season, the rain was falling like in the days of noah. i put a towel around my body, told the ladies in the kitchen to stay inside, and ran outside. tossing the towel aside i gloried in the hard rain.
warmer than the shower water, the rain quickly and refreshingly rinsed the shampoo and soap suds from my hair and skin.
ah, where else can you do something like that?

education ministry part II

today i was able to revisit the dark halls and stairwell of the ministry of education.
rufus kindly included me in a meeting that is held every month between the dept. of education in liberia with ngo's (non-govt. organizations) involved in education.
it was fascinating to catch the spirit of frustration in the inadequacies of the system and the resources it currently possesses as well as the universal desire to turn things around and the hopefulness for the future.
of the approximate 26,000 teachers in liberia, currently 65% of them are untrained. there are a few different reasons for this but two of note are: the war that stalled all educational activity and destroyed most of the infrastructure including education; and brain drain, as it is commonly called, where those with education fled (and flee) the country for better and safer opportunities abroad.
there is much to be done here.

adult education

i ended up staying later than usual at the isaac a. david school where i have been teaching. i had heard and had seen adults pass by on their way to one of the classrooms for adult education, but i had never had the time or the energy to sit in. today i did.
packed into one of the classrooms was fifty ladies. when i entered, they all stood and greeted me. shyly, i smiled and squatted next to a lady near the door. i introduced myself and asked a few questions. what are you studying right now? our numbers. what grade level is this? silence. how much education have you had? [a shake of the head.] have you had any schooling before this? no.
one of the teachers kindly brought be over a chair. i sat mesmerized as i observed for some thirty minutes as these women, some younger twenties (?) to older fifties (?), recited aloud various math solutions and liberian history facts. it was moving to have these ladies belt out the liberian national anthem.
at one point, one of the teachers who had sat in on my teacher training course introduced me to the class. she was extraordinarily generous in her introduction and the impact i had on her as a teacher despite her many years of teaching. the class applauded me.
but i felt compelled to stand up instead and applaud them. here were fifty women who has been overlooked by the system and who live difficult lives of selling various and sundry things at the market and who had decided to undertake the difficult and humbling process of education. how remarkable these simple yet motivated women these were. my heart beat at a different rate as it expanded just looking at their weathered faces. the depth of the obstacles they were attempting to overcome was exemplified by a lady in the third row was looking at me full in the face with eagerness to learn while breast-feeding her child on her lap.
i pray for God's grace on these women as they learn. may God reward their hard and courageous work.

ministry of education

this morning i went to the ministry of education. located on broad street downtown monrovia, the ministry occupies a major multi-story building. our meeting was on the sixth floor. picture walking into a relatively downtrodden building and as you begin to ascend the staircase the light animating the bustling activity outside gradually recedes into almost pitch darkness. the stairwell lights were not on (for lack of a working generator?) and people were literally using their cell phones to light their path as they trod the lightless stairs. tis baffling, frustrating and pitiable.
gratefully, before descending the stairs, the juice for the lights was found.

mayor of monrovia, capital of liberia

on saturday, i went to city hall and was able to meet with the mayor of monrovia (the capital of liberia), ophelia hoff saytumah, with two other people. she has been mayor since 2001.
she was very friendly and cordial.
i do not know much about her politics or other things of note, but try to swallow this unbelievable combination of statistics:
--monrovia has ballooned to 1.5 million people
--her budget for the city is $500,000. for everything. last year it was $300,000.

as far as i understand, the mayor of the sprawling suburb paynesville where i reside has such a small budget that the dept. does not have a vehicle and neither does the mayor; he has to catch a taxi to go to work.

woefully behind

my relative silence on this blog could indicate at least two things: absolute boredom and a lack of anything to write, or an overabundance of activity such that i rarely have the energy to sit down and type things out. as you have surmised, it is clearly closer to the latter. throw in a troubled generator, a spotty internet connection, and more fully developed relationships with the neighborhood and you begin to see the picture.
on top of these things a group of fourteen from the states arrived a week ago today and then left today. it was a pleasure to have them here. a group of five guys from the states arrived tonight who are going to be doing construction.
i am continuing on with my educational activities.
and i hope to be blogging a little more consistently.

city adventure

yesterday, dodging rain and traffic, rufus, with james as driver, gave me a tour of parts of monrovia. i was able to see many of the government buildings, the university, the port and spend a little time walking downtown.
two things of note:
first, when trying to go to the port we needed to show identification. i did not have mine. however, we were let through with the expectation that we would grease their palms on the way out. it was my first liberian experience with bribery.
second, for some reason we only seem to buy gas a gallon or maybe two at a time. thus the gauge is always hovering on empty. while we were driving through one of the busiest markets outside of monrovia our car ran out of gas. as the cars began to honk, rufus and i jumped out to push. right away someone yelled out "white man's car broke down" followed by a general laugh. i too could not help but laugh.

jan and i

i have blogged about jan before. but here finally is a picture of the man.
jan (pronounced yan), a south african police officer, and i had many an adventure as we walked the muddy streets and narrow footpaths in paynesville meeting people, trying new food, encountering animals, and talking about life in africa.
it was a pleasure to spend time with jan as he was constantly bubbling over with hearty laughter and a godly spirit - exhibited in his love for God and his love for his neighbor. thanks for the adventures jan.

photo challenges

i had been trying for a number of days now to get photos up on this site so you could visually take in what i am seeing. but for some reason (maybe the speed of the internet here or my impatience) it seemed as though photos were always loading and never posting.
well yesterday, i was able to utilize google's picasa to post my first photo. in my excitement, i "posted" 5 more. unfortunately i found that only one of the five actually worked. not sure why.
this evening i am hesitantly trying again.

9th grade class

this is a photo of the ninth grade class i taught the first week i was in liberia. they are from the isaac a. david school in paynesville. it was a joy to work with them. not surprisingly, they were just like my students at monte vista. here a girl is putting a math problem on the board. we were working on preparing for the national exam they had this past week.
by liberian standards this classroom is well-equiped. despite having only a bare cement floor, aged wooden desks, and limited school supplies, it does have lighting (note the glow from the bare bulb in the upper right hand corner; electricity from a generator), and a roof. i saw a school today that needed to change locations during the rainy season because it did not have a roof.

abode

this has been my place of residence for the past two weeks. this photo is taken from within the compound that contains three residences. this building is the largest and is used for guests. christine, the smallest of the children on the compound, is walking in front of the camera. and there is blue sky - something not seen very often in this rainy season.

rufus and family

here is a photo of rufus and his lovely wife, naomi, and his son, rueben.
rufus has been a friend, a tremendous help, an advocate, a resource, a pastor, and a tour guide for me. i started to email with rufus when i was still in the states as he helped me organize and plan this trip. not only has be been the above for me, he is also the national head of r.e.a.p., an associate pastor, and a husband and father.
this photo is taken outside of the main house on the compound where i am staying.

gas

gas in liberia is about $3.50. much like in california.
except
how it is dispensed.
it makes sense that in the backwoods of thailand that i would see a "gas station" dispensing fuel out of a 50 gallon drum.
but in liberia (as i tried to describe in the previous post) is post-civilization. if you happen to be on a cement road, you pull of the road into the dirt to a "gas station". it has a simple awning, often a name painted on it, and maybe even gas pumps. but this is not how you receive it.
instead, on the ground you will see a line-up of maybe 1-6 individual one gallon glass jars filled with various shades of pink unleaded fuel. and maybe one or two one gallon glass jars of dark brown, almost black diesel fuel.
when you pull up, they ask you how much you want and you tell them you want one or two gallons. inevitably it is a teenage boy, with a thirty-something man looking on, who pulls out an old plastic oil can with the bottom cut off and a hose affixed to the top. it is through this contraption that they pour the gas in your tank.
they get the gas to their station in ten gallon plastic jugs from which they siphon (with their mouth) the gas into the jars.
by the way, i have seen a few stickers on the jars. mayonnaise.
and of course you must pay with cash. no credit or anything else spoken here.

july 4

independence day.
the connections between liberia and america run deep. so it was not surprising to see a few cars with american flags and people here and there with american flags on their shirts. most liberians that i have spoken with speak highly of the united states but with some misgivings and a general distrust of our current president. almost universally they want a democrat in office with the next election. those that i have spoken with see the republicans as too quick to embrace war. and for all the fighting liberia has seen, they know they want no part.
in general the day went as ususal for me: teaching two classes of kids in the morning and two sessions for teachers in the afternoon. but for the fourth i wanted to go into monrovia. gradually i have found that i live in the 'burbs. as i commute to work in the morning, i along with hundreds of others, all head in the direction of monrovia, the capital. up to this point i had never even made it that far (things have been too busy or heavy rain has not made it possible).
my driver and a friend of his drove me into the city and showed me around. unlike other cities that are lit up like a christmas tree, monrovia is shrouded in virtual darkness. there is no general electricity in the city. if there is to be light, one must be wealthy enough to own a generator and have the money to fuel it--this excludes most.
the last time the roads were repaired to any noticable extent was probably fifteen years ago. it is a little odd to be driving in the dark going through the capital of the city and only vaguely (only in parts) seeing markings on the roads for lanes. in most places there are the shells of streetlights lining the road but they house no light. most buildings are blanketed in darkness. along the road there are people selling their wares by candle, lamp, or by mini generators.
the buildings by and large fit into three categories: (1) half-built and left in disrepair (because of the war), (2) grey and ramshackle, or (3) fairly nice but obstructed and hidden by 10 foot walls topped with forboding razor wire and/or broken glass (and maybe a guard or two at the gate). something seemed amiss as we were driving around looking through the darkness at the lack of light and sound.
though people could be seen on the sides of the road it seemed as though it were from some hollywood movie that depicted life in a city post civilization. take for example the executive mansion and the parliament building - absolutely black - no light whatsoever.
the only seemingly anachronistic thing about the above statement is the pervasiveness of cell phones.
so after visiting the american embassy and learning that the party was at the ambassadors house - and i was not invited, i went to a fancy hotel to drink a beer.
i brought my two liberian friends in with me and we had beers (liberian, and not much different from a bud light) and sushi. it was the first time i had been in air conditioning since i arrived and i must say it was quite nice. also the sushi was quite good. the best part of the whole experience was watching my friends who probably rarely even go into a restaurant like this eat something totally foreign to them. eat raw fish! why? nevertheless they liked it and especially liked the pickled ginger.
no fireworks in liberia. ever since the war, fireworks have been illegal. but after we returned to the car and started to drive home, the rain started again.
ah, this is liberian fireworks. the rain pounded the roof of the car echoing sounds almost equivalent to fireworks. i dropped the guys off at their home and drove the car home the rest of the way. it seemed as if i was in a boat going down a river. and as soon as i parked and opened the door to run to the house i was drenched.
ah, it is good to be here.

heat again

today was the first day i have encountered with no rain.
it was hot.
however, not as hot as i thought it might become. maybe i am acclimating to the temperature.
there was modest cloud cover and a fairly regular breeze provided a much welcomed respite from the humidity that clings to your body.
after i dried off a little from my walk to the school, i made it through my first two classes with little noticable sweat. but after eating a little i joined harvey and some boys in football (for americans, what we call soccer is football.). despite being a great deal of fun, it was a partial mistake. my shirt hugged me like a wet sponge. my khaki pants displayed darker blotches of sweat here and there.
i walked into my next class where i was teaching teachers a little embarrassed at my appearance.
such is the heat here.

traffic

one would think that going from los angeles to santa cruz to the suburbs of monrovia, liberia, the general amount of traffic would decrease. this is definitively true for the first part of the equation but traffic here can be a frustration.
this morning the traffic was so bad, i told my driver, james, i could get to the school more quickly if i walked. he laughed.
the road i take is two lanes. it is a mixture of cement and washboard mud. the cars, suvs, trucks and taxis (the vast majority of the vehicles) move relatively quickly on the pavement but come to a quick virtual stop when it comes time to manuever the washboard.
today the traffic was backed up far before the one particularly bad area so i asked james to pull over so i could get out. he encouraged me to wait it out but i wanted to get to the students.
i jumped out and walked the rest of the way.
and i paid attention to the cars. i got to my destination well before any cars i recognized made it down the road. just like l.a. except there i would have no where to walk.

lunch hospitality

though church was good, the most magnificent part of the day was easily my time with a young couple i have become friends with here. they invited me to their house after church. they are a young couple who married in 2002 and have one toddler son
through the rain we walked in what appeared to be a rain forest. we took a small, muddy footpath until we reached a small two room building made of cement block, plaster, with a tin roof.
only one room was theirs. and this was not a one room apt. u.s. style. it was one room. the room had no electricity, no lights (other than a lamp), no water, no plumbing. it only had a four chairs, a coffee table, a bed on the floor, a small table with various things on it, a crib (used for storage), two dowel rods in adjacent corners with clothes and a leaking roof. life was simple yet challenging.
imagine cooking all your meals on a small charcoal fire in the rain. or sharing an outhouse with twelve other people. getting water from a well. walking every day about a 1/2 mile on a muddy, slippery path to get to the road just to hail a taxi (not a quick process).
the couple served me like a king. the food was excellent and the conversation was engaging.
while we were eating, some of the men from the church just dropped in and asked for food (not uncommon or rude).
during the course of the meal i thought many times about the many young couples i know. very few of them have an easy or even comfortable life. but once again, the many comforts we have (that are definitively not a bad thing) are things that i take for granted so easily.
i wish i could relate all of our conversation. george bush. charles taylor. culture. food. but the stories of the war that occurred here always capture my attention. just after they were married, this couple fled the country and were refugees in guinea. while in the refugee camp the lived in a large tent with fifty people. no privacy. no distinctions. they only had a small suitcase...
i am exceedingly grateful for the relationships i am developing here.
God is good despite the trouble i see all around me. these people live his goodness.

church

sunday morning i went to church with rufus. not only is he the acting director of r.e.a.p. but he is also an ordained minister. he is the assistant pastor of the pagos island baptist church. this sunday he picked me up and we took a taxi part of the way to the church then walked up the muddy hillside the rest of the way.
i could hear music and singing from distorted speakers as we drew near to what looked like a large delapitated mansion. the front room of the house, which was only partly completed (like the rest of the house) and was partially open to the elements, was used for the church. a single medium sized room.
the three hour service started with only about twenty people but the numbers grew to probably double of that as the service progressed. the singing was exuberant and full-bodied. everyone sang with their lungs billowing with all the air they could muster. the drum and percussion loudly kept the beat. my body moved to the rhythm and i joined with all around me as we praised God.
rufus preached on prov. 31:10f. he talked about what qualities a godly woman should have to win the heart of a godly man. he did an admirable job.
the church at one point praised God for 10 new plastic chairs they had received as a donation and blessed the chairs to God's service.
the prayer requests were humbling and the praises too made the struggles of my life seem inconsequential.
at one point they asked me to stand and introduce myself. i thanked them and gave them greetings from my church and family. how exciting and interesting it would be to bring the two churches together. God is so good and he works differently with different people. as they sang"you are welcome" and danced and one by one greeted me, i prayed God's blessing on them.

family worship

last night as i was making my way to my room to read and hit the sack, i stopped by jan's room to tell him good night. in his room i could faintly hear drums and some singing. he did not know what it was. i asked if he wanted to go explore. he was happy to.
we stepped out into the darkness and wandered down a foot path back behind the house.
after searching for a little while for the source of the music, we jan located the house and we knocked (we knocked on the iron door which part of the wall around the property). no one answered so we looked around. we found a neighbor who knew the people in the house and he was able to rouse them on our behalf. after the young man who answered the door inquired with the mother of the house we were let it.
it was late and proved to be an intimite gathering of an orphanage home with some women and children. as soon as we were seated they broke out in vibrant song. we joined in as we could in the singing but could not help but be caught up in the spirited and vivacious singing. and the singing soon developed into some dance as well. in a short while there was also a scripture reading and prayer.
jan and i both were quite blessed to be a part of this time of worship. the women loved God and showed their love shine strongly through their worship and the work they do with the kids they have taken in.
again, i was struck by the fervancy of faith in the midst of so little. joy comes from the spirit of God and not from the possessions that we have.

heat v. rain

yesterday was by far the hottest day i have experience thus far. most of the day was dry and full of the beating sun. the head coupled with the humidity proved to be a powerful duo. not only did i sweat non-stop, i also felt as though i would melt. however, most liberians, who like me enjoy the cooler air the rains bring, were out en masse selling their goods out of wheelbarrows, from atop their heads, or out of the wooden stands constructed along the side of the road. they would say that even though it is hot, business is much better.
as i was not thinking about selling anything, i was longing to use the umbrella to guard me from the sun as is has so faithfully from the rain. when the rain came in the late afternoon, i sighed in great relief.
today it rained, and i should probably say, it rained cats and dogs. for most of last night and for most of today the heavens opened the flood gates. as a result i did not get out of the compound at all today. unlike yesterday, a cool (in relative terms) breeze covered the land like a gentle fan.
now if i was pressed to choose between the rain or the sun, i would have to choose the rain. not only is it cooler but it also dances and sings as it falls.

encounters

the other night three men joined the house. they are all (or were) police officers who volunteer for an organization called pointman. i mentioned them in a previous post. jan (yan), the jolly stout man from s. africa and i have been taking walks in the afternoon exploring what is to be explored. two days ago, we headed down the street and came to a home where jack lived. we met jack but at first he was a little shy. he would hang around and peer behind people or run away when we got close but eventually he warmed up to us. at one point jan held his camera close to take a picture and jack grabbed for the camera and jumped on jan's back and then promptly climbed on his head. at this point he was no longer interested in the camera but in the possibility of lice in jan's hair. soon he was on my head doing the same. as you have probably guessed, jack is a monkey.

early thoughts on liberian culture and life

travel is such a blessing. there are few things that compare with being able to see parts of the world so distinctive and fascinating as what i am observing now.
one of the most striking things (other than the heat and rain) is the smiles of the people. liberians, almost as a whole, have difficult lives. 85% unemployment and 78% illiteracy. as i have said previously, there is little infrustructure. yet, yet, with so little there can be such joy. rufus' words still echo through my head about God's grace being prevalent here. the challenges are undeniable and overwhelming, but to just crack a smile in someone's direction is enough to get a large smile in return.
not only is this a joy to be surrounded by such a sea of smiles, but it is humbling to think of how easily i grumble or i am dissatisfied with something that is not even present here. how can the smiles of such an economically depressed nation be found everywhere when in my own country they are significantly less common? what does wealth or self-satisfaction do to one's contentment? or is it something else?
though one can find a smile in any direction, it is hard to observe the dire poverty. as i walked with jan this afternoon we saw tremendous poverty. where the average person makes 2 dollars u.s. a day, how can you afford the supplies which are so expensive? a shirt for $15. a hammer for $25. gas is expensive. very few can afford a car. running water, plumbing, or even a generator are outside of most people's possibility financially.
one problem is that many of the young have only known this world of ramshackle living. and they do not see it as a problem. they either say "this is africa" or "it is because of the war".
on to what i have eaten. the rainy walk was good to be out. though people had ducked for shelter and they thought jan and i were crazy, they still had their faces peering out at us.
i tried five interesting things today:
1. potta. long o. this is actually clay or a sandy clay-like, grey-colored dirt. yes. clay or dirt. and women are known to eat it. many women eat it when they are pregnant. it is popular. my desire here is not to perpetuate thoughts of africans being savages by any means but this one took me back. i tried it. it tasted like one might think clay would taste like: chalk with sand. i am not a big fan.
2. kola nut. this is actually like a big bean that comes from a pod. it has a red hue. my first reaction to putting it in my mouth was to spit it out. again, not one of my favorite things. students eat it to stay awake for exams. supposedly it is high in caffine.
3. kalla. this, like the previous two, are found at most huts that sell things. it looks like a donut hole. a golf ball sized piece of dough that has been fried. it is hot and then they put a crushed red pepper paste on top. ah, now this is good. not only does it satisfy the mouth but it burns on the way down.
4. catfish with palm oil. the fish was caught and then dried with salt. it is reconstituted then heated with copious amounts of palm oil (which is red in color). this is a really tasty dish which is placed over rice.
5. plantains. these are a more starch-filled version of the bananas we get in the states. i had the plantain both steamed (?) and fried. both work well. any type of banana is enough to make me happy.

rainy day liberia

today seemed to fit within the more typical category of rainy season liberia.
it did not rain - it poured. the morning brought some sprinkles but this afternoon the gates of heaven opened and God blessed and cried over this country.
i taught math again to 9th graders at the isaac david school (ids). though i am less than proficient in math, i was able to hold my own. my reward came in dozens of pearly white teeth exposed through smiles. though tuition is extremely low by american standards, the fee is still high for private school for the average liberian. most cannot (just like the states to some degree) afford private school. ids has simple but adequate facilities. the classrooms are dry and the students have desks. i gave the math teacher a bunch of math books today (thanks mike) and he was everjoyed. he thanked me and thanked me. though the teachers have a curriculum, they do not have many resources from which to draw. it makes for creative teachers...
i took a bunch of photos today at the school before the rain laid down its heavy blanket. i will check on trying to get some up.
after teaching i came back to christine's for a good lunch. i ate with three gentlemen that came in last night. they are all police officers. one from the states. one from nigeria. one from south africa. they are here giving various leadership conferences focusing on a. ethics, b. leadership skills, c. anti-corruption. at the end, if people choose to stay, they give a gospel presentaion. it has been fascinating talking with them. especially mike from nigeria and jan (think dutch. the "j" is pronounced like a "y".) from s. africa.
after lunch it was still raining hard but i wanted to get out so i asked if anyone wanted to take a walk. only jan was willing to brave the weather. i will talk about a few things about our walk in my next post.

D+1 or D-Day?

is tues. june 26.
despite less then five hours of sleep i was up a few minutes past seven. my body is not quite sure what time it is.
i go to take a shower. the spider is on the shower curtain to greet me.
i step outside and ask one of the men to tell me if this is poisonous or not. he shrugs, mumbles that it is not, brushes it with his hand and steps on it with his bare foot. hum...
the shower cleared some of the fog from my mind.
i had a simple breakfast of oatmeal and bread with salami. i ate with laurence who is the man of the house. his wife, christine, is the one i had connected with and planned my trip with. he was kind and welcoming. he answered my questions and made me feel at home.
after breakfast i met some of the seemingly innummerable men and few women who were around the house. shadrack (sp?) lives on the property in one of the houses with his wife and four kids. the kids are adorable. i played soccer with them (7, 5, 3, 2) this afternoon. shadrack takes care of the grounds and the generators. his wife helps in the kitchen. there is big ester and little ester who also work in the kitchen and around the house when guests are staying here.
rufus, clarence (his assistant), and a few other reap people came around this morning. i ate a small mango (which they call a plum) from the tree from just outside my building.
i found that i have internet access at the house but it is slow. however, it is wireless. funny how everyone here has a cell phone (there are no landlines) and a computer (at least the reap people do), but there is not electricity or other simple amenities.
rufus, clarence and i were driven to the isaac a. david memorial school at about 09:30. on the way the road was filled with yellow taxis and a few others cars and trucks. many people milled about on the side of the road. they seemed to be either sitting and staring or hawking some good out of their wheelbarrow.
we passed many schools - all of which had students in uniform. the isaac david school (named after a former supreme court justice in liberia) was thronging with students in blue and white.
they all greated me with large pearly-white smiles and touches. after meeting the prinicpal of the school and meeting harvey and jenna (the two americans who are joining me in the work here; harvey just finished his junior year in school; jenna just finished her freshman year in college) i went into the ninth grade classroom and started to teach math.
the students are in their last week of classes. but the sixth and ninth grade have their national exams starting next week. we started to cram for the test.
the room was simple with old wooden desks, a chalkboard and a table against the wall. the eraser was a piece of clothe wrapped around a bunch of thin plastic strips or a wadded up piece of paper. the walls were made of cinderblock and the roof was tin. i went through part of a practice exam that i was given by the teacher. most students had simple notebooks and pens. they were responsive and respectful. like my ninth graders, some were on top of the game and knew what i was talking about and others struggled to keep up. i showed them some short-cuts to doing the problems without needing to do all the problems.
i got back to the house close to three and ate some corn and home-made french fries. and a banana. from the table, i stumbled back to my room and collapsed on my bed. i slept for two hours.
when i woke, i played soccer in the sand with shadrack's kids. we laughed and laughed. after much fun, i finally had to call it quits because i was being bitten so many times by red ants. i have bites all over my feet and on my arms and chest. how did they get so high?
this evening i had my first truly african meal. i had rice from china and a casava leaf dish with chicken. casava is a root that is eaten often here. the leaf is put in a large (two foot tall) wooden mortar and pestle. some pepper is added. it was different but quite good. it reminded my of an indian dish (pallock paneer (?) but without the paneer).
now i am sitting in front of clarence's (thanks clarence) laptop sweating and typing.
it is ten thirty. i am ready for bed.
i hope all that are reading this are well.
God is exceedingly kind to me and i am very grateful to be here. it is so different, but so much the same. students are students are students, no matter where you are. same with humans. though these people seem to smile more than most (esp. more than brits.)
ah, i forgot to mention, most of the day today did not have rain. we had a few good rains but most was dry (it is difficult to use that word when the humidity is so high and i am always wet with perspiration) and cloudy.
thanks for yours prayers.
last thing - for a long time tonight the generator was not on so i went around with my headlamp. i saw another huge spider outside my room. like a dog or cat, its eyes glowed in the light of my headlamp...

upon arrival

the plane was supposed to arrive at 19:30. we arrived at 23:45. it would have been even later if we would have landed in sierra leone like we were supposed to.
when the doors of the plane opened, those who were deplaning were happy to get off to be on the ground after a long flight but also because the men were up again and demanding to talk with the captain. i gave me condolances to one of the crew members and stepped out on the stairs that they had rolled up to the plane. there was a light drizzel and the air was heavy and hot. breathing was like taking in a breath after you put water on the sauna rocks. all the lights were off at the airport except for landing strip and the decrepit building that was the terminal.
i joined the line for non-citizens and waited to approach the simply plywood booth that housed a woman who was tired yet talked fast. i made it through without any problems. my wet bags arrived on the belt and bypassed bag inspection to go through the metal security gate to the throngs of people on the other side.
as soon as i passed through, i was surrrounded by mostly young men asking me questions and trying to sell me cell phones or willing to call for me. i looked for my contact rufus. i pulled and carried my bags by ducking and denying numerous people vying for my attention. at one point a man asked me who i was looking for. i said "rufus". fortunately rufus was near by and he asked if i was josh davis. no sign. but a smiling face. rufus, who is the acting director of reap that i am "working" for, was able to sneak me away to the awaiting minivan.
the rain was torrential at this point. i felt as though my clothes were soaked through. a man named james was driving. the road right by the airport was a continuous series of potholes. once we got on the main road, we were able to move about about 30-50 kilometers an hour. the rain was coming down so that it looked like we were going through hyperspace in star wars. being in this older minivan with the heat on to keep the windows defogged, i thought for sure that my pores would be entirely clean within a minute.
as we drove i noticed the jungle along the road, street lamps but no light, and large termite mounds. when we approached the city, the roads went from tolerable to a muddy washboard and pot hole mess. we were stopped twice. once by united nations troops and once by police. we were questioned and let go without incident. [does anyone know why the u.n. has baby blue as their color? men with baby blue helmets and machine guns seems like a contradiction.]
the drive to the norman residence was almost at the end of a dirt road that would give a hummer a challenge. many times, i could have walked faster than we drove.
the house is more like a compound. it actually has three main buildings, all of which house people. it is surrounded by a ten foot wall with razor wire on top. i was greeted by a series of men who helped me with my bags and showed me where the room was and the bathroom.
i unpacked. (thanks tracy for all of your help. i could not have done it without you.) everything was there.
i put on my sandals, grabbed my towel and headed to the bathroom to get a most needed shower. there was running cold water from a shower head at the end of a medal hose. though i was quite hot, the water was startlingly cold. as i put shampoo in my hair, for some reason i looked up at the wall above my head. there it was. just like my experience in thailand (though this time much more civilized): an enormous spider. larger than my palm, it slinked back and forth. probably it did this in fear but to me it looked like it was determining how it was going to jump when i had my eyes closed. since there was no light in the bathroom, my headlamp gave off a limited and erie beam in the darkness. i closed my eyes and washed out the shampoo. all was well.
my room was simple and spartan. two bunk beds. i tried to set up my mosquito net but with a fuzzy head and tired eyes, i just drapped it over me. it was 02:30. the sounds of the night were odd; seemingly gigantic frogs croaked and locust-sized crickets sung to me as i tried to sleep. the net stuck to my body. i sweat.
eventually i drifted to sleep.
thanks God for a safe arrival.

precarious arrival

flying over thirty six hours has a way of working your body over.
everything was a normal (except for the time changes) from los angeles to houston and houston to london. but the flight from london to liberia was eventful. the plane was four hours late when we finally boarded. then we sat without moving for about fourty-five minutes. the plane was old. maybe a ninties version of some british or american plane. a hand me down.
i sat next to a man from sierra leone. it was interesting talking with him about his life and his experiences with the war there. he (desmond) is studying computers in london. his wife lives in minnesota.
in front of me was a young british nurse who was volunteering with mercy ships. there were actually quite a few anglos on the plane who were doing work with mercy ships. there was a new ship that is docked in monrovia which is just starting to do work here. and another ship that is being decommissioned and shipped to india.
all became agitated on the plane when the captain announced that we were going to go to monrovia, liberia before freetown, sierra leone. as most people on the plane were on route to sierra leone, the news did not go over well. they had paid for a direct flight and the plane was already really late. on top of this the airport in freetown is not in freetown. it is across a body of water. there is no bridge. a helicopter last week crashed so there was no helicopter. the hovercraft was not working. so the only available way across was by ferry. most felt as though the ferry would not wait for them and they would have to get a hotel by the airport.
many of the men got up from their seats and gathered by the lavetory and angerly discussed the situation. as people were getting more and more agitated, fortunately, by plan (if this is possible) or by grace, we began to hit turbulance and the seatbelt sign came on. everyone was asked to take their seats. the flight attendents (who were particularly young) went around and checked to be sure everyone had their seatbelts on.
this calmed the situation some. and to pacify the people they passed out free sandwiches and candy bars. later they passed out free drinks.
upon approach, i noticed that monrovia had few lights. like los angeles or other cities are a sea of lights, monrovia was just a few dozen here and there. that is for a city of about a million.
we were in for a surprise as our first attempt at landing did not work. at the last minute the pilot pulled up and we had to take another run at it. the second try was successful but i think everyone recieved a minor dose of whiplash.
welcome to liberia.

what i will be doing

some startling statistics:

• 60% of liberian teachers have not graduated from high school
• liberia has a 85% unemployment rate
• liberia has almost no infrastructure to speak of (roads, electricity, plumbing, schools, banks etc. are all in terrible condition
  

i am going to be working with the isaac a. david school outside of monrovia, the capital of liberia. it is likely that i will be working with a few public schools in the area as well. i will be working with teachers and students alike to build up their reading, writing, and arithmetic skills. when i am there, i will, along with two other americans who will be working with me (i have yet to meet them but we have talked on the phone), conduct an assessment of their skills. we will be building on whatever foundation already present.
the organization christine started is called "r.e.a.p." (restoration of educational advancement programs) which is educationally focussed. the acting head of reap is rufus m. he has been exceptional at being an aide to me from the other side of the atlantic. thanks rufus.
there is much yet to be seen as to what i will do and what i will experience.
i am very excited for this opportunity to serve and to learn.

a short intro to liberia

my temptation is to write about how liberia was formed a colonial society in the united states to repatriate emancipated slaves and other african americans to africa or to tell of it being the first and oldest african republic or how many liberians wanted to create an america in africa or how devolved into fifteen years of civil war that devastated the all aspects of the country or to talk about the relatively new first democratically elected woman head of state in africa. but i will refrain. there are many websites that can give you all the information you want if you are so interested.
czech these out:

• http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/6618.htm
• http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/country_profiles/1043500.stm
• http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/liberia/history.htm

there are many more beyond these.

what i have found interesting, especially considering world history, it liberia's connections to the usa, slavery, wwII, and many other things. liberia plays a tangential role in the movie blood diamond that came out recently. taylor, who was the president of liberia, and who is now on trial at the hague, is responsible for much of the fighting and horror that occured in neighboring sierra leone. "blood diamonds" mined in s.l. were sold over the border in liberia...

a short intro into how the trip to africa originated

it is a little disturbing when you do not feel like you have a good grasp of what you are teaching.
i am a world history teacher (i just finished my first year teaching world history). i know very little about the history of africa. as i was teaching this past year, i did some cursory research but my interest was piqued. as someone who loves to travel, the opportunity to go to africa has never been far from my mind. however, other places have for one reason or another come before africa.
with this year of teaching world history, africa rose to the front of my mind and i started to research different possibilities. i wanted to volunteer and did not want to raise money so that limited my options. my current gifting is not in construction or medicine so i knew that would not be the way to go. i love teaching and i wanted to see what opportunities were out there to teach.
through a friend, bill g. (who seems to know everyone), i was able to come in contact with christine n. (thanks, bill) who is a native of liberia, west africa, who was previously involved in the government there. she is a believer who loves God and has a passion for education in her country.
when visiting tracy, i was able to meet christine in los angeles (thanks, christine), and it was clear that our passions meshed well. we talked of different possibilities and it became increasingly evident that this was a great opportunity - and the opening i was looking for. she had started a school outside of monrovia, the capital of liberia, and i would be able to work with students and teachers.
after speaking with christine a few more times, doing some research, and praying, i decided to pursue this fantastic option. time has moved and i am scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning. i leave los angeles early in the morning (sunday) and i arrive in liberia monday night. needless to say, i will be spending a lot of time on planes and in airports. lax to houston to london to freetown to monrovia.

a quiet beginning

my brother-in-law suggested i establish a blog to record the events of my trip to africa. previously i had envisioned sending out group emails, but this might prove to be much easier. thanks mark.
so here is a record of my virgin march into blog land and into africa.