Escape to Monrovia

I have just returned from a weekend in Monrovia......without Jamila. She left for the States this weekend for some much needed leave as did most other ex-pats in Voinjama. Other organizations (including the UN) get paid leave every 2-3 months and since everyone left for the holidays, March is that time again when people either go home or go on vacation out of Liberia. Already it is proving to be a struggle- I'm terribly lonely. Two weekends ago we went to a going away party at ICRC (Red Cross) as two people were leaving and weren't being replaced. Another NGO closed its doors last week and has moved out of Voinjama. My support system seems to be dwindling by the day.

It was obvious I needed a true break so I decided to come to Monrovia and see Jamila off at the airport (or rather, the shuttle that was taking her to the airport.) I was actually in Monrovia three weekends ago (my first time back since arriving in the country- I was in some dire need of supplies) but unfortunately it was not as relaxing as I had hoped. In Voinjama, I live and work in the same place- this is also the case in Monrovia. There is no separation between one's work and personal life and since I have no driving rights, I am completely dependent. One would think that just going to Monrovia would be a nice change of scenery, but the fact remains that I am still confined to a compound and I am living with my boss. Also, there is no public transport in Monrovia (Liberia never fails to baffle me) and it is quite unsafe as there have been more armed robberies and hijackings reported. Walking around really isn't an option, because well, walking anywhere worthwhile would take a good hour, and then again, there is that pesky security situation. I drove to Monrovia on a Thursday with the intention of taking the UN flight back on Monday. Alas, on Monday we got stuck in traffic and I missed my flight which meant that I could either book another flight for 3 days later, or I could go around begging to other NGOs and try and hitch a ride back with them- which is actually what happened. Tuesday morning I was able to get a ride back with IRC- 10 hours of crappy roads stuck in the middle of an overcrowded vehicle. I have never been so happy to get back to the bush. I literally could not stand the thought of staying another night in Monrovia.

The next two weeks were volatile ones; work wise things were great, but everything else was becoming unbearable. The realization that Jamila only had a week left, people I thought could be trusted turned out to be creeps, and I was becoming so suspicious of people that I was in a constant state of uneasiness and felt that there was no one to trust. A horrible realization. Its not even that I don't like Liberia (which, I really don't), its that I don't like ME in Liberia. I've become disillusioned, skeptical, untrusting, angry, hardened. After one such conversation with Jamila she said "you're changing-you need to get out of here" and so I booked a flight back to Monrovia the very next day. This time, though, we decided we would stay with a good friend of Jamila's cousin, a Ghanaian and chief accountant for USAID.

This past weekend was exactly what I needed- a TRUE break. I was separated from VIA for the first time in 6 weeks and I finally felt at ease. Also, the fact that Toni's apartment was on the top floor overlooking the ocean with 24 hour power, internet, air conditioning, and, get this, RUNNING WATER didn't hurt matters either. I was in culture shock. He had carpet, juice, even an $8 jar of Nutella- a luxury way out of my budget. We ate three times a day (in Voinjama I've trained myself to get by on one meal a day), took showers, flushed toilets, ate fresh fruit, swam in the pool, and watched TV. It was surreal- I took pictures of the breakfast. Cheerios! Real milk (not powerded)! Tea and coffee! Being at Toni's allowed me to untagle myself from the mire of my situation and reevaulate with a clear mind. I made a decision, said goodbye to Jamila, and on Monday morning, I boarded the helicopter to go back to Voinjama. Well, I attempted to board the helicopter when the Ukrainian pilot said "Ve are sorry, ve are having some problems, please vait outside." Then a man stepped on board with a huge screwdriver and started banging away in the back. GREAT, deep down I always knew Liberia was going to get me in the end. After 20 minutes of waiting on the tarmac, we watched the mechanics take apart the top of the helicopter and then flames, yes flames, shot out. And with that they ushered us back on. Miraculously, I made it back safe and sound.

It really is amazing how easy it is to make the back-and-forth transition between the lap of luxury and the grasp of povery and so here I am. In Voinjama. Alone. My time back in Voinjama has also given me time to evaluate and reflect on my decision, and I feel that I have made the right one. Over the weekend I gave my two weeks notice and I will be returning the end of March. I never really settled in and each day was a struggle to get through. I am terribly disappointed, I really wanted it to work out, to love it and want to stay forever. But I don't. And so I feel that this decision was the best one and I did it for me. No regrets. Not quite sure what I'll do once I get home other than some hard-core job searching, but I suppose that will work itself out. Once again, thank you so much to everyone that has encouraged me, supported me, and kept me in your prayers. I would not have made it as far as I did without you. I will be seeing you soon.

My first UN flight

The Voinjama "airport". Roofs are overrated anyway.....

The view from above. I think I counted a total of 5 villages on the flight down. Just another reminder of how isolated Voinjama really is.

Gender Based Violence

I’ve been in Voinjama four weeks, or is it four months? I can’t tell the difference anymore. My project is in the very beginning stages so there is nothing to follow-up on and poor Jamila has noticed my desperation and is doing her best to throw random tasks in my direction. Two weeks ago (I know, I haven’t done a very good job of keeping my blog updated) I was able to tag along for a Gender Based Violence (GBV) workshop that IRC (International Rescue Committee- an international NGO that has an office just down the road from our compound) was putting on for our ex-combatant groups. There are four different communities that we work out of, one of them being Voinjama proper, while the other three are a good 45 minutes out in the bush. I am often amazed at 1) how people even know these villages exist as they’re so remote and 2) what possessed people to set up a village in that particular spot in the first place? The roads are extremely narrow and the bush extremely thick and overgrown. It would be a proper jungle except for the occasional plot which as been burned (communities still practice slash and burn agriculture -I don’t blame them) and the lack of animals and birds (once again, no livestock so hunting has wiped out the majority of wildlife). One can drive and drive and drive and then, out of nowhere, a village appears.

The first day of the workshop took us to Marvekonedu, a Mandingo village. The Mandingos are a Muslim tribe and were very active in the war. This particular ex-combatant group only has one male member who also happens to be the only English speaker. I didn’t feel comfortable walking up to one of them and asking “so what was your role in the war?” but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t curious. They ranged in age- some of them had to have been children during the war while a couple struck me as being quite old. This was just another reminder of how no one was unaffected: young, old, male, female.

The workshop itself was held in a mud house with all the children dying to get a look at the “vabu” (that would be me) and the adults constantly shooing them away. The children are timid here- nothing like Uganda- although there were a few that finally worked up the courage to touch me and then attempted to talk to me (alas, my Mandingo is not what it used to be). The workshop itself was fascinating, no, MIND BLOWING. The facilitator began by making a series of statements in which the participants were to raise their hands if they agreed. #1: A man has the right to demand sex from his wife at any time. All hands went up. #2: The wife has the right to say no to her husband. Four out of eight hands go up. #3: A husband has a right to beat his wife. All hands go up. Absolutely unreal. How can a country possibly develop when the entire MINDSET of the country needs to be changed? I heard recently that approximately 65% of Liberian women have been raped- an estimate that the UN believes to be too low. Like I said, mind blowing. We began by discussing the difference between sex and gender (what is biological and what is social), power, people in power, age of consent, and rape and its consequences. However, I am very happy to report that with this particular group, when the statements were read again at the end of the session, everyone disagreed on #1, all but one disagreed about #2, and the majority disagreed on #3. Progress.

The rest of the week was a success and I was so encouraged by the thought of conducting other workshops that Jamila handed the task over to me. So, my new project has been to line up different organizations that will come and talk to our groups on a range of subjects. IMC (International Medical Corps) will come and speak about general health, sanitation, child care, HIV/AIDS, etc. and the UN Human Rights and Protection officer will speak about human rights, the rights of a Liberian citizen, and how to be a good citizen. Needless to say I am excited about the potential impact this may have.



Mustafa, the IRC facilitator, is holding a poster commonly used as a billboard around Liberia. Note the "Special Liberian English".

The Voinjama Life

When we finally arrived at the Visions in Action compound in Voinjama, my first thought was “What on Earth have I done?” A pretty normal reaction, I would say. The compound itself is not very large but it contains the guesthouse (where I live with my counterpart, Jamila), the office building, storage house, and parking for the vehicles, motorbikes, and lone John Deere tractor. The guesthouse is, um, basic: a mud brick home with four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a “kitchen.” It is plagued by termites and the walls crumble a little more each day, BUT [knock on wood] I still haven’t come across a rodent! So, ha! While we don’t have running water, Jamila was able to work it out with the Pak Batt to come and fill up our water tank every couple of days. They supposedly filter the water so that it is ok to drink, but I guess for now I’m just going to stick to my 28 gallons of drinking water I purchased in Monrovia.

Voinjama itself is larger than I expected (its actually bigger than my hometown of Dougherty!), but I might as well be living in a tiny village for all of the amenities it offers. They don’t even have juice- just little packets of flavored sugar. Apparently before the war it was quite the happening place with real buildings and even electricity. Now it is primarily huts with zinc roofs, a few generators, a UN base, and a Pakistani Battalion keeping the peace. If you look at a map, Voinjama is right on the border with Guinea, which to me, presents an interesting paradox in that Guinea is much better off economically than Liberia despite its “coup” status at the moment. (In December, Guinea’s president died and instead of having his successor take over, the military did. While more military personnel were called in and the UN closed the border points fearing an influx of refugees, it has been a bloodless coup.) Thus, despite the political disruption, we have taken to calling Guinea “The Promised Land.” People constantly cross the soft borders in order to buy goods and then resell them here. The town of Macente (Guinea) is only two hours away and yet they supposedly have the same products as Monrovia at a cheaper price. Which brings me to another point: Liberia is EXPENSIVE. I nearly had a heart attack shopping in Monrovia when I saw a box of Corn Flakes for EIGHT dollars. Because Liberia’s industry and economy were completely destroyed during the war, they import EVERYTHING from the States or Europe. On average, I would say everything is 3x the price of what it would be at home. Even in Voinjama, where all they can offer is Club Beer (Liberia) and Coke, they still manage to charge an arm and a leg. (Over a dollar for a can of coke).

Work wise, well, I really don’t have much to report. My project will be the USDA Food for Progress grant which focuses on developing aquaculture, rice and vegetable production in Liberia through the distribution of seeds and tools, training and the introduction of post-harvest technology. One of the main focuses has been on the New Rice for Africa (NERICA). NERICA (according to my background reading) is the product of interspecific hybridization between the cultivated rice species of Africa and Asia. It has had great success in West Africa so I am anxious to see how people accept it here in Liberia. My role will be to interview farmers, write success stories and progress reports for our donors (USDA) and my own little side project in which I would like to evaluate the transfer of this technology between our beneficiaries. Of course, I have to actually get into the field first: we don’t have a working vehicle at the moment and the generator was down for five days. God Bless Africa. ☺
My roommate, Jamila, has been my rock since I have arrived. She graduated from Indiana University with her MPA a year ago and has been living in Voinjama since September. She really paved the way for me in that she arranged for water, found a cook, and obviously knows the ropes around here. Food wise, we hire Komoza who has a cook shop right next to the compound. We eat Liberian dishes which ALWAYS consist of rice and a type of “gravy” to go over it. Beef is very expensive (remember there is hardly any livestock here) so people eat bush meat. Bush meat could be anything: monkey, deer, porcupine, rat, ANYTHING. While I have tried the deer here (at least that’s what they told me it was) Jamila and I just stick to eggs for our protein. But, I suppose if the opportunity presents itself to eat monkey, well why not?

The hardest part about Voinjama is the seclusion. I can’t go anywhere by myself (a point which was emphasized after my first trip to the market- I will refrain from the details as I know my mother reads this) and since Jamila and I don’t have driving privileges, we are basically stuck. The ex-pat community here is dwindling as many NGOs are finishing up their grants, people are leaving and aren’t being replaced. So you know what that means: UN HERE WE COME! Jamila figured out early on that if you wanted to get anything done, you had to make friends with the right people. So it was just my luck that at approximately the same time I arrived so did Captain Rico Cody- the new UN Military Observer from the US. A little side note: There are approximately 10 UN missions going on in the world at the moment. The mission in Liberia is called UNMIL- the United Nations Mission in Liberia. The US has an “observer” at each mission because the US provides a third of the UN’s budget. Rico, in my opinion (but not in his) is living the good life. His office is at the UNMIL compound which has a gym, 24 hour electricity, TV, refrigerator and air conditioning. Oh, and he can go home to the States once a month AND receives danger pay. But this is neither here nor there as he is also our ride, lets us use his internet, and gives us food (woohoo for Frosted Flakes!) from the UN grocery store. ☺ Obviously, we got to know each other right away as Jamila, Rico, and I are the only Americans here. But what really sealed the friendship is that Rico’s ex wife is from Des Moines and his son is a freshman at Iowa State!!! How CRAZY is that?

So, here we go! Voinjama is definitely no destination but it has been an adventure thus far (and a overwhelming, intense, yet boring one at that). Wishing you all the best!



Our cook, Komaza, in her cookshop making us dinner.



The Guesthouse



Typical Village

Oh boy.....

I have been in Voinjama for four days now and I will be honest, it has been quite the adjustment of which I am still in the process. Liberia is intense. I keep trying to rationalize and reason myself with it but at the same time it is as if I can’t put a finger on it. During the drive on Sunday the weight of my decision started to hit me. After three hours on semi-paved roads, we made a turn onto a narrow gravel road which would take us the remaining five hours. Here, Steve (the VIA country director), turned around to me and said “this will be your nearest hospital- just remember it will take you five hours to get here.” (The International Red Cross is actually just down the road from the VIA compound, but there are only two doctors for the entire district.) We would continue our conversation throughout the trip, but all I did was accumulate a list of “Don’t”s: Don’t drink the water. Don’t walk around at night. Don’t go to the police if you have a problem. Don’t get into a helicopter crash. Don’t leave your door unlocked. Don’t get sick. Don’t die. And on and on and on. And as he is telling me these stories of how he came upon an accident once while driving back and he saw a little girl lying on the side of the road with her head split open and how just yesterday one of our field officer’s sons was hit by a car and killed and how just the other day a truck full of people and cement tipped over and 27 were killed and how during the war these very people we were passing on the road were forced into the bush (as if they weren’t already in it) and watched their children starve to death as they were forced to eat stray dogs, my stomach began to sank and reality began to set in. I am not in Kansas anymore.

I thought that I was prepared for this- I thought my experience in Uganda would prepare me for anything. But this is an entirely different ballgame. Post-conflict development is tricky, the people are traumatized, the infrastructure and economy are destroyed, and the people are completely dependent. The idea of sustainability is a foreign concept. What captured my heart about Africa were the people and the smiles and zeal for life. Here, that zeal has been squelched. I’m not saying that the people aren’t friendly (I am really enjoying getting to know my coworkers and look forward to getting to know the farmers) but there is an intensity about them that almost scares me. Each and every one has a story, and probably a horrendous one at that. Since I have been here I have met some of the other ex-pats in the community- the majority of them are working in the medical field (particularly mental health) and crisis management. While at dinner the other night one of the mental health clinicians was telling me some of the atrocities that the people of Voinjama and Liberia have suffered. Horrible things like gang rape, forcing a parent to choose which of their children would live and then killing them both anyway, the rape of little girls and little boys, parents being forced to watch, children being forced to watch, and the list just goes on. I watch the news, I read books, I know these things have happened throughout history, but I guess I have never seen their faces or actually met the victims. But now, everywhere I turn, I can’t help but wonder: what is their story?

Driving and getting out hasn’t been helping much. One of things about Uganda that I cherish so deeply is when I to go outside the atmosphere exudes vitality. Here, I am constantly faced with a UN checkpoint, a bullet-ridden building, or a “Welcome” sign that was obviously used for target practice. When I go outside and walk down the road I am greeted by the Pakistani Battalion UN Mission Force (the Pak Batt as they’re known around here) and their barbed wire fences, watchtowers, and tanks. I can’t imagine why they would possibly need a tank, even if Guinea (15 km away) is on the verge of a coup, but anyway. So while I am “safe” I am by no means at ease.

So, I am struggling but I am willing to give it a fair shot. We’ll see how things work out and if nothing else then I feel that I have already learned a great deal. But with the negative there is also positive and that is something in which I keep trying to remind myself.

The internet is practically nonexistent here and so I am fortunate to be able to post this while visiting another NGO. While my posts may be a little few and far between I will do my best to keep them coming. There is so much I have yet to write (my work, the house, my new roommate, etc.) but I guess those will just have to wait for another day. Thank you to all of you who have kept me in your thoughts and prayers- I treasure your emails and words of encouragement.

I've Arrived!

Greetings Everyone!

I arrived safe and sound into Monrovia, Liberia yesterday evening just as the sun was setting- it could not have been more picturesque. As I walked off the plane I was struck with the scent of woodsmoke, fuel, and......sunscreen? Perhaps it was the breeze coming off the ocean. The humidity hit me straight it the face and nearly took my breath away- quite a shock after the weather back home in Iowa! I felt as if I was right back in Iquitos, the Peruvian Amazon. A tropical country indeed. The aiport itself was about the size of the Ames airport and was filled with UN workers, trucks, helicopters, officials, etc. There were more mzungus (white people, although since they speak English here and not Swahili, they don't shout mzungu- they actually shout "White Woman!" or will refer to you as "bright") than I expected on the flight, but I would say 98% were affiliated with the church.

An hour later, with luggage and a stamped passport in hand, I finally made my way out of the crowed airport to meet Joe, the Visions in Action logistician, and self-declared first member of my new family. Awww. Now, they claim that they all speak English, but I can barely understand a word. I wish I could understand enough to give you an example of how they talk, but that would be impossible at this point. Joe and I had a good conversation on the hour long journey from the airport to Monrovia and what (I think) we talked about was how he used to be a refugee in Sierra Leone in the late '80s, he referred to Charles Taylor as "The Octopus" because of his far reach of terror, and how Liberia's new president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf is an angel. When Joe was talking, I felt the landscape emphasized his every point. For example, there are no livestock (it was one of the first things to be wiped out during the war) and no powerlines (the power grid was also destroyed). Everything was dark. I think that is how I will always remember my first night in Liberia: DARK. In fact, I didn't even realize it when we were driving into Monrovia- there were some street lights which President Johnson Sirleaf had recently commissioned that are run by a large generator and a little more traffic, but otherwise I would have thought were driving away from the city as opposed to towards it. It is already apparent how much poorer Liberia is than Uganda- fewer people, fewer animals, less infrastructure.

Upon arriving at the Visions in Action compound I met my bosses/roommates for the next couple days.  I am staying at the compound (includes a house and an office) until we make the 10 hour trek north on Sunday to Lofa County where I will be based.  Right now the plan is that I will come back to Monrovia once a month to stock up on supplies (and preserve my sanity) using the UN helicopter.  This morning I met the staff and Steve (the country director, boss, and temporary housemate) briefed me on the various projects I will be working on.  There are about six different ones but nothing will be final until I actually get to Voinjama and talk with Akoi, the agricultural director.  For lunch Steve, Nat (the deputy country director) and I took VIA's brand new vehicle (I came on a VERY special day!), which was given to us by the World Food Program, to a Lebanese restaurant (the Lebanese have disproportionate control over the economy here- similar to the Indians in Uganda) and then they gave me a tour of the city.  Monrovia is small- smaller than Des Moines- but has quite the history as my tour consisted of "And this is the beach where President Doe lined up the 13 ministers and executed them in public" and "This is where Charles Taylor lived while wreaking havoc throughout the country."  For a country that has been through hell and back, however, I was surprised at how un-war-torn it looked.  If you ask anyone, they will accredit that to President Johnson Sirleaf.  

I actually got a little work in this afternoon as Nat and I went through spreadsheets of books sent by Books for Africa. VIA acts as one of the distribution centers and we actually have a big shipment from Oprah that we need to pick up from the port.  I am proud to say that my Iowa State education served me well while we were trying to categorize because I basically sorted each subject by the ISU "college" they would fit in.  Yes, I actually created a "Human Sciences" category.  :)  Let's hope it works!  We had a nice dinner back at the house (rice, fish, and collard greens) and then went to the beach for a drink. It was a beautiful way to top off my first day.

So folks, that was my first 24 hours in Liberia.  I don't know if my next posts will be as detailed or how frequent they will be, but I am happy to say that I am really excited about what the next seven months have in store.  I think I will learn a lot and who knows, maybe even contribute something.  I wish you all the best and look forward to catching up with you upon my return!

Cheers!