The moon is nearly full again, which reminds me of my first nights in Liberia walking along the road in Salala, a small town about two hours north of the capital. The moon provided the only light in this area where electricity was provided by generators, if at all.
It's been a month.
A month in which I'm getting better at realizing when people are really speaking another language and not just Liberian english. A month in which I've had one weekend off and two hot showers, but have been exhilarated enough and hot enough to not mind.
I'm reminded today of how lucky I am to have found so many of the things I was hoping to find in this job! It's fun and stimulating to go from developing lesson plans to interviewing guys in the street to accounting for the February budget all in one day. I also made a nice lentil and rice lunch, but the point is I'm doing the things I wanted to do and much faster than I expected. Yay!
Nearly everyday is exhausting and I am working on creating a life for myself outside of work, but I've learned to be more forgiving of myself in the first months of moving to a new place. I feel incredibly lucky at such a good transition, made possible by the people I work with, speaking the language more or less, and knowing a few people here before I arrived.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Made in Holland?
We have a short-term consultant at the office for two weeks, and in the interest of making sure she gets to experience some of life outside our dark office we planned an afternoon trip to the market on Monday to buy fabric to make dresses. We arrived at Waterside market late in the day and traipsed around looking for the best prints. The first place we were in was definitely a full store, with glass cases and plenty of room but little light. It appeared to be owned by Lebanese businessmen. After taking that selection in we took to the surrounding streets and went down alleys to check out fabrics sold from cupboard-sized stalls, wooden tables and on the ground in piles of stiff standing triangles.
I knew that these fabrics, known as lapas, are not produced in the country but I was hoping I could at least find some made in neighboring countries. Although we saw a few that were made in Cote d’Ivoire or Nigeria, the overwhelming majority indicated they were from Holland. Now, much in Liberia is imported from elsewhere. Used cars have American license plates and I’ve gotten trays of bad eggs from India, but could it be true that the fabric is imported from Holland? With the amount of imported food I eat and imported goods that I buy, I could believe it, though I would also believe that they are simply fabrics from Guinea that have been labeled otherwise. The mystery remains!
After giving up on trying to ascertain the origin of the fabrics, we were left with picking out which of these colorful and bold batik prints would be suitable for us. This was no small task, but I ended up with a pretty dark green and brown print and Emma had a bright orange and navy blue fish pattern, a teal and brown floral print and our favorite, a lavender, orange and beige zipper pattern.
We were consistently quoted $10, which I later ascertained was the price paid by Liberians as well. The women were certainly not responding to our attempts to bargain! The following day we took our fabric to my colleague’s tailor, where we had to pick out our styles from posters with pictures of women in dresses and suits (tightly fitting top and long skirt). I wanted something that would be suitable for events here, namely weddings, church, graduations, etc. so I didn’t mind if it wasn’t something I would feel completely comfortable wearing in the US, but I don’t think I could pull off the ruffles that adorn so many dresses here. On Friday I’ll find out if my vision turns out well and hopefully there are many more dresses to come!
* The internet is usually too slow to upload photos, but hopefully I can show you some lapas soon!
I knew that these fabrics, known as lapas, are not produced in the country but I was hoping I could at least find some made in neighboring countries. Although we saw a few that were made in Cote d’Ivoire or Nigeria, the overwhelming majority indicated they were from Holland. Now, much in Liberia is imported from elsewhere. Used cars have American license plates and I’ve gotten trays of bad eggs from India, but could it be true that the fabric is imported from Holland? With the amount of imported food I eat and imported goods that I buy, I could believe it, though I would also believe that they are simply fabrics from Guinea that have been labeled otherwise. The mystery remains!
After giving up on trying to ascertain the origin of the fabrics, we were left with picking out which of these colorful and bold batik prints would be suitable for us. This was no small task, but I ended up with a pretty dark green and brown print and Emma had a bright orange and navy blue fish pattern, a teal and brown floral print and our favorite, a lavender, orange and beige zipper pattern.
We were consistently quoted $10, which I later ascertained was the price paid by Liberians as well. The women were certainly not responding to our attempts to bargain! The following day we took our fabric to my colleague’s tailor, where we had to pick out our styles from posters with pictures of women in dresses and suits (tightly fitting top and long skirt). I wanted something that would be suitable for events here, namely weddings, church, graduations, etc. so I didn’t mind if it wasn’t something I would feel completely comfortable wearing in the US, but I don’t think I could pull off the ruffles that adorn so many dresses here. On Friday I’ll find out if my vision turns out well and hopefully there are many more dresses to come!
* The internet is usually too slow to upload photos, but hopefully I can show you some lapas soon!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Presidents and their Property
From The Liberian Times in an article writing about a controversy over the residency clause for Presidential and Vice-Presidential candidates. Some believe the current 10 year requirement should be upheld, others propose reducing it to 5 years. The real issue for me is the property requirement. See below in bold.
EDIT: The amount in bold is in Liberian Dollars- it's about US$360 in today's exchange, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think you should have to own property, much less at a certain prohibitive minimum, to run for president.
Article 52 of the Liberian constitution states: No person shall be eligible to hold the office of President and Vice President, unless that person is a natural born Liberian citizen of not less than 35 years of age, the owner of unencumbered real property valued at not less than twenty-five thousand dollars and must be resident in the Republic ten years prior to his election, provided that the President and Vice President shall not come from the same County. The constitution further forbids non-resident Liberians from contesting the two most top posts in the Country.
EDIT: The amount in bold is in Liberian Dollars- it's about US$360 in today's exchange, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think you should have to own property, much less at a certain prohibitive minimum, to run for president.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Uniforms at the Immigration Office
Yesterday morning a colleague and I made our way to the Immigration office, which I had been told was a marvel of efficiency in a land of great inefficiency. Naturally I was excited. As we approached the stairs two women in uniform were arguing with several men who were obviously trying to get in the door. We were ushered in by the guards but I was curious about our entrance. Who was trying to get in who couldn't?
Inside we inquired after the man we were hoping to meet. "I don't know if he'll be coming today because I don't know if he'll show up wearing his uniform," the woman at the front desk said. Apparently today was the first day enforcing a law that immigration officers must wear their uniforms. This coming from a woman wearing a beautiful bright green dress (she brought her uniform to work, but in a plastic bag because the pants were too small). We entrusted her with our passports, $150 dollars for our residence permit and four passport photos (in my case I got away with three. Our experience was certainly efficient, but I look forward to our return on Friday when we pick up our passports to monitor the progress of the uniform-only rule.
Inside we inquired after the man we were hoping to meet. "I don't know if he'll be coming today because I don't know if he'll show up wearing his uniform," the woman at the front desk said. Apparently today was the first day enforcing a law that immigration officers must wear their uniforms. This coming from a woman wearing a beautiful bright green dress (she brought her uniform to work, but in a plastic bag because the pants were too small). We entrusted her with our passports, $150 dollars for our residence permit and four passport photos (in my case I got away with three. Our experience was certainly efficient, but I look forward to our return on Friday when we pick up our passports to monitor the progress of the uniform-only rule.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Valentine's Day Moment
We were sitting in the car outside the bank and looking out the window I saw a member of the armed forces, wearing his uniform and maroon beret, holding an artificial rose wrapped in a plastic sleeve that he had likely bought from one of the boys selling Valentine's Day things from their wheelbarrows.
The day came and went without much ado and without much pink and red, but I like the sweet image of a man in uniform squeezing into his car, taking care of his rose.
The day came and went without much ado and without much pink and red, but I like the sweet image of a man in uniform squeezing into his car, taking care of his rose.
Monday, February 8, 2010
An order of coke, hold the mayonnaise
It's not everyday at work that you get bags of cocaine passed to you from an empty Blue Plate mayonnaise jar. I should quickly mention that this happened at the Drug Enforcement Agency as a demonstration of what kinds of drugs are prevalent among youth here. They keep a few tiny bags of this "tie white" in the closet with some bigger satchels of marijuana, waiting to be burned by the EPA. The bags I was examining were about the size of a fingernail and contained five US dollars worth of cocaine- some of it pure, some not so pure. A tray of marijuana also found its way to the table, as did two blunts, which sell for 10 Liberian Dollars, which is less than a quarter, just so you know.
My job is pretty awesome right now. Yesterday we were pre-testing parts of our survey with young guys who help to load cars (with people, not things), sell scrap metal, or deal heroin for a living. This last one was particularly fun and our interview got interrupted when he had to go make a sale, but he tried to get my phone number before leaving and when that didn't work turned around and said "I love you" before doing business. I can't possibily imagine a scenario like this happening in the US.
One interesting part was breaking down his profit- he gets a bag from his dealer worth 10,000 Liberian dollars, sells it for 12,000 - returns the principle and comes home with a profit of 500-700 LD (Up to US$ 10) after paying off the police who are protecting him from the men that I was talking to today.
Speaking of whom, they've got a tough job. Not that it's ever going to be easy (see The Wire) but when drug dealers can pay the bond whenever they get arrested and there is no law in place that prevents that from happening- it's just an endless cycle.
What will tomorrow bring?
My job is pretty awesome right now. Yesterday we were pre-testing parts of our survey with young guys who help to load cars (with people, not things), sell scrap metal, or deal heroin for a living. This last one was particularly fun and our interview got interrupted when he had to go make a sale, but he tried to get my phone number before leaving and when that didn't work turned around and said "I love you" before doing business. I can't possibily imagine a scenario like this happening in the US.
One interesting part was breaking down his profit- he gets a bag from his dealer worth 10,000 Liberian dollars, sells it for 12,000 - returns the principle and comes home with a profit of 500-700 LD (Up to US$ 10) after paying off the police who are protecting him from the men that I was talking to today.
Speaking of whom, they've got a tough job. Not that it's ever going to be easy (see The Wire) but when drug dealers can pay the bond whenever they get arrested and there is no law in place that prevents that from happening- it's just an endless cycle.
What will tomorrow bring?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Riding in a shared taxi, oh!
The beat up yellow taxis that ply the main streets on fixed routes are the mainstay of public transportation in Monrovia. When a shared taxi slows down to reach the curb, the crowd on the sidewalk presses in and tries to figure out how many passengers are coming out and from what door. Rush hour is no time to be timid. Four people in the back, one in front. It’s glaringly obvious that more are needed, yet these cause traffic enough, sandwiched in between the NGO landcruisers and motorbikes weaving in and out. There are a handful of small vans that serve the same function, but how come there aren’t more? In neighboring West African cities this is the norm and it seems that it would make a lot of sense here. Even used vehicles bought in country are very expensive, so they would probably need to buy them across the border in Guinea, Sierra Leone or the Ivory Coast. I don’t know how much the shared taxi drivers make a day, but the cost per passenger ranges from 5 Liberian dollars to 50 (US$0.07- 0.70). I would gladly support a microloan to a taxi driver investing in a larger vehicle : )
The one really great thing about this system is the hand signals that people use to indicate where they are going. Using your pointer finger and pointing down at the ground illustrates you’re just going a few blocks, from the town area going out into the surrounding areas your pointer finger moving close to your head indicates you’re going along Old Road, while the same motion closer to your waist is Airfield. There are some other waves and shakes for other distances- I really need to get a picture of this!
My first experience with a shared taxi did not go entirely as expected. After asking my friend Jess a flurry of questions I was ready to test it out. I had been assured that I paid at the end, that it was ok to ask how much the fare was since others did too and that I could move to the shotgun seat if it opened up. We stood on the corner and eventually one stopped and I hopped in, ready to be squished into the corner by others. After a few minutes I noticed we weren’t stopping to pick anyone else up and I asked him why not. He told me that actually he was just on his way home and not working. I held my 30 Liberian dollars in my hand, ready to protest that I was only going to pay the shared taxi fare and not a higher fare for being the only one in the car. When I asked him to stop I held out my hand with the money and he smiled and waved it away, even after I offered a second time.
For those with the means, transportation in the city is dominated by landcruisers owned by NGOs or, in our case, on loan from the UN High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR). You can also get private rides in a taxi for around US$5 a trip (good option at night, even though that’s comparatively expensive) or hop on the back of a motorbike. I have seen very very few bicycles around town and was advised the streets weren’t suited for them, though honestly I think it would be ok as long as you had a mountain bike. I could also learn how to drive the landcruiser if I can handle stick shift!
The one really great thing about this system is the hand signals that people use to indicate where they are going. Using your pointer finger and pointing down at the ground illustrates you’re just going a few blocks, from the town area going out into the surrounding areas your pointer finger moving close to your head indicates you’re going along Old Road, while the same motion closer to your waist is Airfield. There are some other waves and shakes for other distances- I really need to get a picture of this!
My first experience with a shared taxi did not go entirely as expected. After asking my friend Jess a flurry of questions I was ready to test it out. I had been assured that I paid at the end, that it was ok to ask how much the fare was since others did too and that I could move to the shotgun seat if it opened up. We stood on the corner and eventually one stopped and I hopped in, ready to be squished into the corner by others. After a few minutes I noticed we weren’t stopping to pick anyone else up and I asked him why not. He told me that actually he was just on his way home and not working. I held my 30 Liberian dollars in my hand, ready to protest that I was only going to pay the shared taxi fare and not a higher fare for being the only one in the car. When I asked him to stop I held out my hand with the money and he smiled and waved it away, even after I offered a second time.
For those with the means, transportation in the city is dominated by landcruisers owned by NGOs or, in our case, on loan from the UN High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR). You can also get private rides in a taxi for around US$5 a trip (good option at night, even though that’s comparatively expensive) or hop on the back of a motorbike. I have seen very very few bicycles around town and was advised the streets weren’t suited for them, though honestly I think it would be ok as long as you had a mountain bike. I could also learn how to drive the landcruiser if I can handle stick shift!
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