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!