08 January 2012

To Close

It's about time for an update, isn't it? While on winter break from law school, I can now turn my attention to closing out this blog.

For Liberia to change for the better, Liberians need to make the change. This aligns with Rebuild Africa's goal for sustainable development, and I saw firsthand the reason for this mission. Innumerable voices have entered the country, especially since the end of the civil war. Almost all ideas sound good. Let's give notebooks to kindergartners. Let's supply locals with malaria-prevention nets. Let's send used doodads. But during my time in Monrovia, I saw UN-donated notebooks on sale in a market; my co-workers said that they refuse to use malaria-prevention nets; and street vendors sell used foreign goods at marked-up prices to unsuspecting Westerners. Given unwanted items, citizens either discard them or turn them into something profitable. By saying this, I don't mean to imply that people should not continue to give (by all means, many necessary organizations exist solely because of generous donations). Instead, I say this to encourage non-Liberians to realize that Liberians should have a say in the matter.

When Liberians do have a say, wonders happen. For example, Rebuild Africa has employed Liberians to build additions to schools, train future leaders, and facilitate the healing process that endures years after the most recent war ended. Rather than focusing on the immediate yet ostensible pay-off (e.g., the picture-perfect moment of delivering dozens of notebooks to a classroom full of students), I would argue that teaching and paying locals to build classrooms will have a much more enduring and meaningful effect.

Seeing these principles of sustainable development succeed on a local level, I would think that they should work on a macro level as well. By investing in comprehensively training and supporting Liberian workers (especially young college graduates), multinational corporations would probably get a better product as well as continue the economic growth of the country. This could hold true for Chevron, a recent investor in the potentially oil-rich depths of the Atlantic near Liberia. Aside from the obvious PR benefits of building human capital, companies may yield a higher profit.

So, you can add my opining to the host of others who have thrown in their two cents. But I will close by reflecting on the culture and racial climate that I observed. Though Liberia has a unique connection with the United States (a connection that few Americans know about but that every Liberian knows about), seeing Liberians deify America and its culture saddened me-- largely because them doing so often meant that they denigrated their own beautiful, complex, and rich culture. Also, as a Black American, I thought Liberians missed the mark when they disparaged their government (which, mind you, probably should receive a decent amount of criticism) and people but then delusively referred to the conditions of rich, fortunate, and prospering Black Americans. I don't know if I ever communicated effectively that for every Black American featured on the BBC radio or on CNN.com, nine others typically live in a decidedly worse condition (Bob Herbert wrote about this extensively for the New York Times). Comparing countries and people will likely only lead to division, especially when those comparisons rest on illusion.

Liberians, individually and en masse, should look within. I witnessed their strength, honor, and vigor. By faith, their country-- led by its countrymen and women-- will flourish.

14 July 2011

Arrived safely in Georgia!


With Bill Massaquoi, the founder and executive director of Rebuild Africa


I've now completed my service trip to Liberia. In the coming days, I will fill in the gaps of my stay and will muse on the culture, economy and racial dynamics of Liberia. Stay tuned, if you please.

28 June 2011

Almost as overdue as Tropic of Cancer

Clifford is the big red one

Vacant building in downtown Monrovia

My typical lunch: plantains, ground cassava, onions, tomatoes, and spices. 80 Liberian dollars, or $1.14.

Our tents at Robertsport

Bill Junior and I before our meeting at the EU embassy

Delightfully incongruous South Asian female UN officers who guard the Ministry of Foreign Affairs everyday

Thursday, June 9th

I noticed one of my co-workers staring outside the window of the Rebuild Africa office. He told me that he was observing a local gang argue over some petty issue. They apparently meet nearby after working hours to smoke and reflect on the day. This served as another gentle reminder that I'm living in arguably the poorest and corrupt country in the world.


Friday, June 10th

After work, the US Ambassador's intern and I volunteered at a local church's soup kitchen.


Saturday, June 11th

I ate dinner with the friend of a Yale alumna. He told me about his adventures as a black American living in Liberia. I then went to a party where I met a relative of Samuel K. Doe, the former president of Liberia. She raised a number of concerns about the upcoming election and the possibility of former President Taylor returning, despite his forced exile, numerous human rights violations, and charges in international courts from participating in the catastrophic fourteen year period euphemistically referred to as a civil war.


Sunday, June 12th

For the second week in a row, I visited Philadelphia Church in Paynesville. As the only non-Liberian in the congregation, and as the only person not jumping and dancing around during the two hour-long worship portion of the service, I may have looked out of place.


Monday, June 13th

I spent Monday and most of the work week compiling and synthesizing the notes from the previous week's interviews. I also wrote a first draft for the institute's formal proposal.


Tuesday, June 14th

At the suggestion of my boss, I met a lawyer friend of his. I walked to his downtown building, passing dozens of street vendors and speeding cars. In his air-conditioned office, he told me about the difficulties of Liberian education-- the inculcated ideas of subservience and submissiveness that must be destroyed to create a competitive academic atmosphere. After getting bachelor and law degrees from the University of Liberia, he had attended Cornell for his master's in law. While waiting to meet with him, I read from a policy book from the 1970s that focused on potential tax reform in Liberia during that time. Its suggestions that taxes should be increased for the wealthiest and its other arguments sounded as if they could have been written in 2011.


Friday, June 17th

With some intern friends, I ate at the Americanized barbecue restaurant PA's then ventured to Tide's bar.


Saturday and Sunday, June 18th - 19th

With those friends and about twelve other interns around my age, we drove about three hours to the beach town Robertsport. There, I saw my seventh grade Bible school teacher, who's daughter works for an orphanage in Monrovia (the daughter has been featured on the blog previously). With the interns, we danced, talked, and ate until 4am with a bonfire providing us light. We left that Sunday afternoon.


The next week, I met with representatives from Catholic Relief Services, European Union, and LINNK (Liberian NGOs Network).


Wednesday, June 22nd

Part of my task while here has been to assist younger Bill, pictured above, with his applications to American seminaries. In doing so, I've been trying to help him with writing and reading, since Liberian instruction can be quite limited. In telling him that reading the New York Times would provide him access to the level of reading necessary for success in stateside academia, I learned that he has neither Internet nor electricity at home.


Thursday, June 23rd

I presented to a European Union director in charge of education policy in Liberia. To enter his office, Bill and I had to go through two security check points, sign in twice, and be escorted to a conference room.


Friday, June 24th

The EU experience directly contrasts with the meeting with LINNK, in which the supposed head of the organization had no office. Instead, I gave him the presentation in the backseat of a sitting pickup truck.


Saturday, June 25th

Some friends and I explored the markets downtown. We could have bought a UNICEF notebook being sold, but we decided against it.


Sunday, June 26th

The team from the Vineyard arrived enthusiastic and a tad jet-lagged. Their schedule for the next two weeks includes something almost every hour. I'm happy they're here, and am interested to hear their take on the country and its culture.


Monday, June 27th

Continuing to carry around my PowerPoint presentation like a certain former US vice president, I met with another government official in the late afternoon.


If you'd like to say hello, or if you get this post's title's obscure pop culture reference, shoot me an email at elliotjwatts+lbmh[at]gmail.com.


23 June 2011

So Let It Be

Robertsport

When I asked if he'd read any Shakespeare, my co-worker responded that Liberian schoolchildren adore Julius Caesar. Comforting, no?


A full post and update are on the horizon.

15 June 2011

No Such Thing

Monrovia

When I leave Liberia, I will miss that I can buy lunch for a little more than a dollar. I will not miss that a ten year-old serves it to me.

09 June 2011

Americana

At Stella Maris Polytechnic's auditorium

Mid-word

The view from the porch of Bill's home

Dancers at the US Embassy's festival

US Ambassador Linda Thomas-Greenfield. What's left?

Friday, June 3

I'm currently living at my boss's home (the view from its porch is featured above). His niece and her friends used the television in the living room to watch My Best Friend's Wedding, the late '90s rom-com starring Julia Roberts. A day later, another group of friends visited, and they watched the movie again. Hopefully they haven't been given the impression that most American weddings come dangerously close to being ruined by psychopathic food critics. Actually, they might be. I've been gone for nearly a month, so much may have changed.


That night, I had a vivid dream that involved me ordering a large iced drink at Starbucks and then a burrito at Chipotle. My subconscious knew that I'd be going to a festival at the American embassy the next morning.


Saturday, June 4

At the festival, which included Liberian vendors, artists, dancers and musicians, I stopped by a painter's booth to see if he had any affordable souvenirs. As he flipped through some of his works, I thought I heard him mumble, "The ambassador!" Though I couldn't make out all of his words, he motioned to shoo me out of the way as someone else approached. Since this person was essentially cutting me in line, I took the liberty to ask her several questions, primarily, "Are you the ambassador?" She responded by staring at me, her countenance feigning disbelief that I could not know who she was on her own turf.


We then started chatting. She has spent thirty years in the foreign service. Her son will be attending Howard Law school in Washington, DC, next year. Then, she decided to introduce me to her intern for the summer. That intern then introduced me to another set of interns (grad students from various public policy schools) who she'd met and with whom I'd hang for the rest of the day. Before the group of us left the festival, the ambassador called out my name from the lawn table where she was sitting with her friends. Since I'm not part of an intern program here, she wanted to make sure that she had my phone number because she's going to put on an event for the young Americans in Liberia this summer.


Sunday, June 5

Though I had made plans to go to the soccer game between Liberia and Cape Verde, walking around town all day Saturday with my fellow interns made me want to spend Sunday afternoon sitting. I probably made the right decision, since crowds pushed, shoved, and bribed their way into the stadium, reportedly. Beyond capacity, the stadium's light towers enticed some fans to climb onto its structures to watch the match. Liberia won, by the way.


Monday, June 6

I met with the dean of students at Stella Maris Polytechnic in Monrovia. He asked me to share the plans for next summer's institute on critical thinking to some of his students in their auditorium on Wednesday.


That night, I had dinner with an American lawyer who is taking a six month-break from her corporate firm in New York to work for the Liberian government.


Tuesday, June 7

I met with deans and administrators at the University of Liberia, which is only a five minute drive away from the Rebuild Africa office.


Wednesday, June 8

Knowing that I'd be presenting to college students instead of university officials, I made some modifications to the presentation. One change included adding a short critical thinking exercise that required three volunteers. I put up three logically flawed (and silly) statements and asked each volunteer to describe their problems. It seemed to go over well.


To end this post, I'll share one of the cultural exchanges that I've experienced. The Liberian handshake, which has been given to me by university deans and grandmothers alike, has a fascinating history, which I found in (where else?) the text of a cookbook. From The African Cookbook by Bea Sandler:

The greeting of one Liberian to another is unusual, and you might greet your guests this way at your Liberian dinner. When shaking hands you grasp the middle finger of your friend's right hand between your thumb and third finger and bring it up quickly with a snap. The custom had its origin in the days of slavery when it was not uncommon for a slave owner to break the finger of his slave's hand to indicate bondage. When the freed slaves colonized Liberia, they began this ritualistic greeting as a "sign" of their freedom.

07 June 2011

Old Money

In Liberia, most establishments accept American currency. Since the country doesn't have its own US mint, many dollar bills look terribly aged like this one.


The next post will include why the US ambassador asked for my phone number and why I observed a group of Liberian teenage girls watch My Best Friend's Wedding twice.