I wanted to let all my faithful readers know that I will not have access to internet, email or blogger for the next week. I am traveling up-country into rural Liberia to continue my work. I know it is going to be a fascinating road trip and I am really looking forward to getting out of Monrovia. But services in Monrovia are practically non-existant and they are even worse elsewhere so I'll be lucky to find more than a bucket to wash myself with and a cot to throw a mosquito net over. I will keep writing while I am traveling and will have lots to post when I return next weekend.
I had hoped to leave off with a couple of postings about this weekend. I had a great day at the beach yesterday, a great hash run today, and a really interesting conversation with someone who is helping to train the new Liberian army of 102 soldiers. But it is now after 11:30pm, I still have not packed and I am getting on the road bright and early tomorrow to try and catch some farmers selling at a market on my way out of town. So this weekend's installments will also have to wait until next weekend.
Stay tuned...
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Cats and Dogs
Yesterday I discovered how it is that Liberia is the rainiest captial in the world. It started raining before sunrise and did not stop until the eveing. But 'raining' is not really the right word. It looked like somone turned on a tap and a waterfall was flowing from the sky. You could see streams of rain coming down. Then the there was a sudden crack of thunder at the same time the sky was lit up in broad daylight by a jolt of lighting. We think it might have been a direct hit as several computers in the office are now fried - as in smelling like smoke. The next strike found me working on an unplugged laptop still connected to the broadband and I still got a shock. Needless to say, it was not a very productive morning.
With over 4,000 mm of rain a year (mostly falling between April and September) I realized that it is highly likely that I will have to work in the rain next week when I am in the field upcountry. I went out and bought myself a pair of gumboots.
With over 4,000 mm of rain a year (mostly falling between April and September) I realized that it is highly likely that I will have to work in the rain next week when I am in the field upcountry. I went out and bought myself a pair of gumboots.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Aside: Wikipedia Fame
My grandmother is in Wikipedia. Does that mean I'm famous?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southern_Rhodesian_general_election,_1962
She ran for parliament in Rhodesia in 1962 and the election results are in Wikipedia. She received over 36 percent of the vote, which is actually quite impressive considering the politics of the time (and the fact that she was a woman - 5 women candidates out of 106). She ran with United Federal Party which was a not exactly a multi-racial party, but they were attempting to open the door to increased African leadership. The white supremacist Rhodesian Front party won, and was always going to win in her region. As the 94 year old family friend mentioned below said, "A duck could have stood for the [RF] and it would have won".
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southern_Rhodesian_general_election,_1962
She ran for parliament in Rhodesia in 1962 and the election results are in Wikipedia. She received over 36 percent of the vote, which is actually quite impressive considering the politics of the time (and the fact that she was a woman - 5 women candidates out of 106). She ran with United Federal Party which was a not exactly a multi-racial party, but they were attempting to open the door to increased African leadership. The white supremacist Rhodesian Front party won, and was always going to win in her region. As the 94 year old family friend mentioned below said, "A duck could have stood for the [RF] and it would have won".
Protestations
Yesterday I went to get lunch at a local Lebanese restaurant. All the restaurants are owned by Lebanese, and almost all serve Lebanese food. As I drove up the road with one of my colleagues, we could see that there the traffic was not moving ahead. We did a u-turn and headed off to a different restaurant in the opposite direction only to find that the police were blocking the road in that direction. While we idled there trying to decide where else to get food, we realized what the hold up was. It was a protest.
This time it was students protesting about the free education that they had been promised but that had not been delivered. The professors at the university are on strike (I think for lack of payment), so the students are not being taught. They were taking advantage of a visit by President Johnson-Sirleaf to the university to share their feelings. I was amazed at the police response. Police is not really the right word. These were fully outfitted riot police with plastic shields, threatening batons, and blue helmets marching in lockstep like a Roman battalion. The color of the helmets indicated that they were some of the 14,000 UN peacekeepers on the ground to keep order. Even so, I was surprised at their violence towards what seemed to me like a peaceful protest.
I think I am showing my naiveté. This protest may have been peaceful, but too many are not. I understand that not too long ago, protests were a common occurrence, mostly of ex-combatants protesting that the promises made to them by over eager politicians had not been delivered. Promises of jobs, food, education, hope for the future. Politicians should be more careful what you promise an ex-combatant who could easily revert back into old ways.
I wander how protests will be handled when there is a major draw down of peacekeepers here over the nine months.
This time it was students protesting about the free education that they had been promised but that had not been delivered. The professors at the university are on strike (I think for lack of payment), so the students are not being taught. They were taking advantage of a visit by President Johnson-Sirleaf to the university to share their feelings. I was amazed at the police response. Police is not really the right word. These were fully outfitted riot police with plastic shields, threatening batons, and blue helmets marching in lockstep like a Roman battalion. The color of the helmets indicated that they were some of the 14,000 UN peacekeepers on the ground to keep order. Even so, I was surprised at their violence towards what seemed to me like a peaceful protest.
I think I am showing my naiveté. This protest may have been peaceful, but too many are not. I understand that not too long ago, protests were a common occurrence, mostly of ex-combatants protesting that the promises made to them by over eager politicians had not been delivered. Promises of jobs, food, education, hope for the future. Politicians should be more careful what you promise an ex-combatant who could easily revert back into old ways.
I wander how protests will be handled when there is a major draw down of peacekeepers here over the nine months.
She like a man
“She like a man” my driver said in reference to Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf. He meant it as a compliment. With the nickname of ‘Iron Lady’ I could see what he meant. This is her history as told by my driver.
She is tough. During the election she traveled all over the country into small villages along difficult roads. She went among the people. She shook their hands and spoke with them. She is like us.
She suffered. She suffered much that woman. During the war….
She was jailed by Doe. Then he let her out because of pressure from the US government.
During Taylor’s time, no one spoke. No one could say what was really happening, but Ellen spoke. She said that there was too much killing going on and that it had to stop. Taylor said that Ellen was trying to overthrow his government and she had to be stopped.
Ellen managed to escape to the Ivory Coast during Charles Taylor’s time. She was evacuated, but a customs official signed her documents. He knew what he was doing. He knew she was a wanted woman by the Taylor regime and that he would pay the price for his signature on a piece of paper. He later killed himself rather than face his punishment with the government.
She is tough. During the election she traveled all over the country into small villages along difficult roads. She went among the people. She shook their hands and spoke with them. She is like us.
She suffered. She suffered much that woman. During the war….
She was jailed by Doe. Then he let her out because of pressure from the US government.
During Taylor’s time, no one spoke. No one could say what was really happening, but Ellen spoke. She said that there was too much killing going on and that it had to stop. Taylor said that Ellen was trying to overthrow his government and she had to be stopped.
Ellen managed to escape to the Ivory Coast during Charles Taylor’s time. She was evacuated, but a customs official signed her documents. He knew what he was doing. He knew she was a wanted woman by the Taylor regime and that he would pay the price for his signature on a piece of paper. He later killed himself rather than face his punishment with the government.
Infrastructure?
On Monday I went on my first real outing for my assignment and went to visit a wholesale market on the outskirts of Monrovia. The Kuwait market is one of the few markets where the farmers bring their produce in bulk where it is bought by traders who take it into town to sell to people for their dinners. I was by no means expecting anything vaguely hygienic, but what I saw was probably the grossest market conditions I have ever seen (see photo below).
Not only are people forced to buy and sell food in ankle deep mud, but there is absolutely no running water in the country, no electricity and certainly no sewer system. For water, people link the pipes in their house to the large plastic tanks that are filled by a water delivery service. Electricity is provided by generators that guzzle expensive gasoline. Last night 5 gallons of gas were stolen from our office. My colleagues are choosing to believe that it was a thief jumping the barb-wire crested wall. I believe it was the gate guards that came with the property and are subsidizing their income, which is a fraction of the income of our own security guards. The biggest problem is the lack of a sewer system in a city that is the capital with the highest annual rainfall in the world. Yesterday I went to the gym up the street from the hotel and had to walk back to the hotel in the rain. The soaking after my run felt good, but I couldn’t enjoy it as I knew I was walk through ankle deep sewer sludge. Gross.
The irony is that the other half of my project here is focusing on community infrastructure. There is just so much to do. Rebuilding the main coastal road heading South. Rebuilding the Parliament building. And most ironically, on Monday we have a groundbraking ceremony for the rebuilding of the Ministry of Public Works which has only three walls and no roof.
Not only are people forced to buy and sell food in ankle deep mud, but there is absolutely no running water in the country, no electricity and certainly no sewer system. For water, people link the pipes in their house to the large plastic tanks that are filled by a water delivery service. Electricity is provided by generators that guzzle expensive gasoline. Last night 5 gallons of gas were stolen from our office. My colleagues are choosing to believe that it was a thief jumping the barb-wire crested wall. I believe it was the gate guards that came with the property and are subsidizing their income, which is a fraction of the income of our own security guards. The biggest problem is the lack of a sewer system in a city that is the capital with the highest annual rainfall in the world. Yesterday I went to the gym up the street from the hotel and had to walk back to the hotel in the rain. The soaking after my run felt good, but I couldn’t enjoy it as I knew I was walk through ankle deep sewer sludge. Gross.
The irony is that the other half of my project here is focusing on community infrastructure. There is just so much to do. Rebuilding the main coastal road heading South. Rebuilding the Parliament building. And most ironically, on Monday we have a groundbraking ceremony for the rebuilding of the Ministry of Public Works which has only three walls and no roof.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Ruffians
I went to lunch yesterday with a colleague from the home office who is out here with her husband working on a project for a couple of years. She told me that she had ‘ruffians’ at the house last night. Her generator went off at 4am and she just assumed that it had broken down once again from poor upkeep. Instead, when she finally pulled herself out of her hot and sticky apartment at 9am, she discovered that a ruffian had jumped the wall and taken the car battery that is used to start the generator (and is somehow required to keep the generator running). Interestingly, she has guards at her house, but she says she hardly ever sees them awake.
I went back to my hotel room after lunch and discovered that I too could boast of an interaction with a Liberian ruffian. I went to look for my digital voice recorder that I remembered having in my hand to take to work a couple of days earlier when I decided I wouldn’t need it at the office and left on the desk in my room. It was nowhere to be found. I spent my afternoon completely unpacking every piece of luggage and looking in every nook and cranny, but to no avail. I was not so upset about the loss of the object but I was very upset by the loss of what was on it – several hours of interviews with my father and a friend of my grandmother for some writing that I am doing. The friend of my grandmother is 94 and it was a great interview, and very precious. I was looking for it to download it onto the computer to make sure I didn’t lose it. Needless to say, the only option was that it had been taken from my room.
I spent an afternoon escaping from these worries by sitting at a beautiful pool listening to the waves crashing on the beach on the other side of the wall. I had no idea that this would be an option in Liberia – I am definitely spoiled.
I debated what to do about the recorder. I could go to the hotel management, who would most likely ask the cleaner and in the best (or worst) case scenario fire her, but either way it would be unlikely that I would get my recorder back. I decided to take a different approach. I waited until Sunday morning when the cleaner came to my room to clean. I asked her if she had seen it. She denied even seeing it. Then I explained that it was a digital voice recorder, not a music player, I showed her the battery that I had kept separately and said that it was useless without it, and told her about the interviews on the recorder that were so precious to me, playing up the 94 year old – age is respected here. I told her that I did not want anyone to lose their job (the most precious commodity here) but if it was not back in my room by tomorrow I would have to go to management. She continued to say she hadn’t seen it but casually walked across the room, got on her hand and knees and reached far under the TV cabinet and pulled it out, saying it must have fell on the floor. A common ploy is to move something and if it is not missed in a couple of days, then take it. I was just so happy to have it back that I thanked her, immediately downloaded the interviews on my laptop and put the recorder in the safe.
I’m now sitting out on the patio at the hotel looking out over the Atlantic listening to the calming crash of the waves and trying to ignore the pungent odor of sewerage wafting up from below. At this point I think it’s better than continuing to inhale the mildew in my room as I have been doing for the majority of the last 48 hours. We are forbidden from taking public transport here, including taxis. We are also not allowed to walk on the streets. So I am pretty much locked in the hotel for the weekend except for escapes with expats that live here. I’m very thankful for the pool and (tiny cave-like) gym across the way!
I went back to my hotel room after lunch and discovered that I too could boast of an interaction with a Liberian ruffian. I went to look for my digital voice recorder that I remembered having in my hand to take to work a couple of days earlier when I decided I wouldn’t need it at the office and left on the desk in my room. It was nowhere to be found. I spent my afternoon completely unpacking every piece of luggage and looking in every nook and cranny, but to no avail. I was not so upset about the loss of the object but I was very upset by the loss of what was on it – several hours of interviews with my father and a friend of my grandmother for some writing that I am doing. The friend of my grandmother is 94 and it was a great interview, and very precious. I was looking for it to download it onto the computer to make sure I didn’t lose it. Needless to say, the only option was that it had been taken from my room.
I spent an afternoon escaping from these worries by sitting at a beautiful pool listening to the waves crashing on the beach on the other side of the wall. I had no idea that this would be an option in Liberia – I am definitely spoiled.
I debated what to do about the recorder. I could go to the hotel management, who would most likely ask the cleaner and in the best (or worst) case scenario fire her, but either way it would be unlikely that I would get my recorder back. I decided to take a different approach. I waited until Sunday morning when the cleaner came to my room to clean. I asked her if she had seen it. She denied even seeing it. Then I explained that it was a digital voice recorder, not a music player, I showed her the battery that I had kept separately and said that it was useless without it, and told her about the interviews on the recorder that were so precious to me, playing up the 94 year old – age is respected here. I told her that I did not want anyone to lose their job (the most precious commodity here) but if it was not back in my room by tomorrow I would have to go to management. She continued to say she hadn’t seen it but casually walked across the room, got on her hand and knees and reached far under the TV cabinet and pulled it out, saying it must have fell on the floor. A common ploy is to move something and if it is not missed in a couple of days, then take it. I was just so happy to have it back that I thanked her, immediately downloaded the interviews on my laptop and put the recorder in the safe.
I’m now sitting out on the patio at the hotel looking out over the Atlantic listening to the calming crash of the waves and trying to ignore the pungent odor of sewerage wafting up from below. At this point I think it’s better than continuing to inhale the mildew in my room as I have been doing for the majority of the last 48 hours. We are forbidden from taking public transport here, including taxis. We are also not allowed to walk on the streets. So I am pretty much locked in the hotel for the weekend except for escapes with expats that live here. I’m very thankful for the pool and (tiny cave-like) gym across the way!
Snails pace
The trip is getting off to a slow start. After two weeks delay in getting out here because the project staff did not send in my trip approvals to USAID on time, there has been no preparation for my visit. I spent my first couple of days mostly just sitting in the office in Monrovia looking out over the ocean reading documents and figuring out who I need to meet with and where I need to visit. (Note that I am not looking at the waves crashing on the beach, just the ocean above the wall which is built just above the beach. The wall was necessary to block the view of the beach poopers, which is not exactly conducive to a productive working environment). I’m here to look at the markets for the products and services the project is working with. These include rubber, oil palm (potentially for biofuel), fresh vegetables, rice, carpentry, masonry, cosmetology (no, I’m not joking), and goldsmithing. My job is to see if there really is a market for these things and how the farmers or individuals who have been trained by the project can better access those markets. It should be a really interesting assignment, especially as it will mean lots of time ‘upcountry’ or away from the coast and away from Monrovia.
Ironically, my colleagues that are living here – expats from the home office that are on one or two year assignments – seem to abhor the thought of going upcountry. They talk about this place as if it is the worst place on earth and in fact it almost seems like they are competitive about it. What they don’t seem to realize is how fortunate they are. On Thursday night, one of my colleagues had taco night at her house (and the fact you can get tacos and all the fixings is one of the ways in which they are fortunate). There were 9 expats all from my firm enjoying each other’s company and talking about the long lines at the sushi restaurant, last weeks party, and going to the gym at Mister Joe’s house of Pain (that really is the name). Compared to where I lived in Guinea, this seems like heaven! I think part of the problem is that we have a governance program here and they are more used to working with governments in nice capital cities, and not getting out into the field to so much. But the post-conflict team I would expect to be used to roughing it. I am probably being a little unfair as I did just arrive, and I am sure that if I lived here I would also be complaining.
There is one woman who jumped when I said that I really was hoping to somehow get to Sapo National Park. It’s very isolated at the end of difficult roads, especially now the rainy season has started, and there is absolutely no infrastructure in the park (and maybe no animals after people hunted them for bushmeat for survival during the war). She has been trying to find someone to go with her, but no one was interested. We are looking into it to see if it might be possible but we would need a guide and it will most likely involve a free ride on a helicopter operated by the Ukranians for the UN – a scary thought in and of itself. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we can pull it off. My one colleague who has been back and forth to Liberia for the last 4 years told me that it wouldn’t be worth the trip – I had to explain to him that the trip is the whole reason for going. You have to enjoy the journey and the thrill of finally making it to your final destination or it really isn’t worth going. Plus think of all the birds along the way!
Ironically, my colleagues that are living here – expats from the home office that are on one or two year assignments – seem to abhor the thought of going upcountry. They talk about this place as if it is the worst place on earth and in fact it almost seems like they are competitive about it. What they don’t seem to realize is how fortunate they are. On Thursday night, one of my colleagues had taco night at her house (and the fact you can get tacos and all the fixings is one of the ways in which they are fortunate). There were 9 expats all from my firm enjoying each other’s company and talking about the long lines at the sushi restaurant, last weeks party, and going to the gym at Mister Joe’s house of Pain (that really is the name). Compared to where I lived in Guinea, this seems like heaven! I think part of the problem is that we have a governance program here and they are more used to working with governments in nice capital cities, and not getting out into the field to so much. But the post-conflict team I would expect to be used to roughing it. I am probably being a little unfair as I did just arrive, and I am sure that if I lived here I would also be complaining.
There is one woman who jumped when I said that I really was hoping to somehow get to Sapo National Park. It’s very isolated at the end of difficult roads, especially now the rainy season has started, and there is absolutely no infrastructure in the park (and maybe no animals after people hunted them for bushmeat for survival during the war). She has been trying to find someone to go with her, but no one was interested. We are looking into it to see if it might be possible but we would need a guide and it will most likely involve a free ride on a helicopter operated by the Ukranians for the UN – a scary thought in and of itself. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we can pull it off. My one colleague who has been back and forth to Liberia for the last 4 years told me that it wouldn’t be worth the trip – I had to explain to him that the trip is the whole reason for going. You have to enjoy the journey and the thrill of finally making it to your final destination or it really isn’t worth going. Plus think of all the birds along the way!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Liberian Welcome
I got off the plane in Monrovia to overwhelming heat and humidity and walked down the stairs onto the runway and under the plane (literally) to the terminal. I waited for what seemed like forever in a crowded airless room to go through customs. When I got up to the front of the line, I was greeted by a big smile and a warm hello from the customs official behind the desk – definitely not your average icy customs employee. I was feeling good and then walked out into the overcrowded baggage claim. My bag was one of the last off the plane – loaded by hand onto a rickety belt. My agitated state after the hassle of the luggage claim immediately disappeared when I went through the final customs check and realized that absolutely no one was asking for bribes. In Guinea, I would have been hassled all along for ‘some assistance’.
The one hour drive into downtown Monrovia was filled with interesting conversation with one of the project drivers. The Liberian English takes some getting used to but I think I understood most of what he said. He hinted at troubles he experienced as a driver for Medicin Sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders) during the worst of the war. Most interestingly he spoke about Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, the president of Liberia, and the first ever elected woman leader in Africa. He told me that she is achieving great things. That parts of Monrovia even have electricity now. That roads are slowly being rebuilt and that life is slowly getting better ‘small small’ for people here. He said that people believe that she should remain president for life. He also said that because of her great achievements, people are realizing the strength of women. I think he believed what he was saying, but I also know that he might have been saying what he thought I wanted to hear.
My first day in Liberia I had a chance to get out and about a bit to visit some beneficiaries of an apprentice training program. We visited some ex-combatants who are now working as mechanics and women workings as tailors and hair dressers. Unfortunately, there is just not enough training for everyone.
After one day here, I am really unsure about the future of Liberia. In some ways, the future looks rosy with a well-respected leader in place who is tackling corruption head on. On the other hand, ex-rebel leaders are serving as senators, there has only been a partial disarmament, and there are still many who believe that peace will last only as long as the 14,000 UN peacekeepers remain in Liberia.
The one hour drive into downtown Monrovia was filled with interesting conversation with one of the project drivers. The Liberian English takes some getting used to but I think I understood most of what he said. He hinted at troubles he experienced as a driver for Medicin Sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders) during the worst of the war. Most interestingly he spoke about Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, the president of Liberia, and the first ever elected woman leader in Africa. He told me that she is achieving great things. That parts of Monrovia even have electricity now. That roads are slowly being rebuilt and that life is slowly getting better ‘small small’ for people here. He said that people believe that she should remain president for life. He also said that because of her great achievements, people are realizing the strength of women. I think he believed what he was saying, but I also know that he might have been saying what he thought I wanted to hear.
My first day in Liberia I had a chance to get out and about a bit to visit some beneficiaries of an apprentice training program. We visited some ex-combatants who are now working as mechanics and women workings as tailors and hair dressers. Unfortunately, there is just not enough training for everyone.
After one day here, I am really unsure about the future of Liberia. In some ways, the future looks rosy with a well-respected leader in place who is tackling corruption head on. On the other hand, ex-rebel leaders are serving as senators, there has only been a partial disarmament, and there are still many who believe that peace will last only as long as the 14,000 UN peacekeepers remain in Liberia.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Coming soon...
Liberia!
I'm off to Liberia on Tuesday for a month. I'm there to do an assessment of the agriculture and enterprise development activities of a post-conflict proejct, which should be interesting in and of iteslf, but the timing of the trip is particularly interesting with Charles Taylor just going before the Court in the Hague.
Keep watching for more...
I'm off to Liberia on Tuesday for a month. I'm there to do an assessment of the agriculture and enterprise development activities of a post-conflict proejct, which should be interesting in and of iteslf, but the timing of the trip is particularly interesting with Charles Taylor just going before the Court in the Hague.
Keep watching for more...
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