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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Redefining Rural

Beach on the ELWA Compound in Monrovia

Cascade waterfall an hour outside of Gbarnga

Feast

Downtown Gbarnga

Fayetteville friends!

A cotton tree near the waterfall

Saturday, May 21

The day of my flight to Monrovia, my dad and I discussed a recent Wall Street Journal article that identified Liberia as being one of the poorest countries in the world. We agreed that regardless of a nation's poverty, there will most likely be at least a small percentage of people who live awfully comfortably. Lo and behold, I got to witness firsthand that sliver of Liberia's economic pie during my first week. When Bill asked me if I would go with him to a birthday party located forty-five minutes outside of Monrovia in a town called Kakata, I had no idea that I'd be partying on what is essentially a rubber plantation. On the ten thousand acre property sits a home that would be impressive on almost any street in the States.

To my understanding, many of the African Americans who founded Liberia essentially instituted the same kind of racial hierarchy that plagued the South but with Americo-Liberians at the top and indigenous Africans at the bottom. This plantation seemed to be a carry-over of that tradition: the owner- an identifiably Americo-Liberian man- managed a farm of entirely indigenous African workers.

Also, the Red Dragon visited me that night. I had not seen him since my time in India. Thankfully, Cipro slew him.


Sunday, May 22
I walked a few blocks from the boarding house to a local church which supposedly attracts a number of expats each Sunday. The worship portion of the service was altogether powerful. For forty-five minutes, the entire congregation swayed back and forth, clapping and singing along to the worship leader and his fifty person-strong gospel choir. Still recovering from my battle with the dragon the night before, I had to sit and take a breather midway through the worship.

Hearing dozens of Liberian men and women in their endearing and rich accents beautifully harmonize to traditional African-American gospel music brought a tear. I could stand (or sit) and proudly listen to a chief cultural export of my people. Unfortunately, my buzz was killed by an unfortunate export of the so-called black church community: homophobia. A significant portion of the sermon focused on the damning influence of the gay rights movement. How uplifting! Somehow, love and grace did not figure into the pastor's message.

I spent the rest of the day hanging out with a high school friend of my sister, who was entertaining her sister and brother-in-law. We had lunch then hit the beach.


Monday, May 23
One of the Rebuild Africa volunteers and I traveled three-and-a-half hours northeast to Cuttington University, located in Gbarnga, a town in Bong County. Rural West Africa includes roads not paved as well as Mass Ave (or simply not paved at all); villages with straw huts and children with swollen bellies; and no buildings or stores that would even conjure an image of the developed world. Upon our arrival, several of my associate's friends met us. One of them volunteered to cook us dinner. Having not cooked a meal for a vegetarian before, she rattled off a number of ingredients, getting my approval on each. When we entered her house at supper time, she brought out an epic meal, starring caramelized plantains, an egg salad, and sliced mango.

Searching for a guest house for the night proved difficult, partly because I insisted that I sleep under a mosquito net. The first three places had no nets. When we arrived at the fourth, thankfully it had one room with a net. Sauntering up to my room, knowing that I would be able to sleep at ease, I stuck my key in the door. It stayed there. Not even the manager could get it out. We found another room, but it had no net. My associate assured me that the combination of the window's screen and the room's fan would deter mosquitos from entering. Fast forward to 2:30am: the power goes out. The fan stops. With zero air circulation, the room's temperature skyrocketed a good twenty degrees. Unsure what to do, I knew that I didn't want my time to end in a hot box in Bong County. I finagled the window, allowing for some air to enter. I sat up for the rest of the night, swatting anything that felt like an insect.


Tuesday, May 24
Our time at Cuttington couldn't have gone better. We met with two deans and were interviewed by the college newspaper and radio station. Before heading back to Monrovia, we drove an hour down a muddy road to a local waterfall.


Wednesday, May 25
My computer took its own life. RA has allowed me to use one of its computers for the remainder of my stay.

The highlight for the rest of the week: watching Barcelona defeat Manchester United with Bill's family and neighbors.

First Few Days

RA's office and its security guard in downtown Monrovia

RA's office space

The view from the office

My desk

May 17-18

Fourteen hours in the air brought me across the Atlantic to Monrovia, Liberia. Two Rebuild Africa staff members patiently waited for my arrival, then whisked me away in their Pathfinder. Having listened to contemporary gospel music in my mom's car as we drove from our home to the Atlanta airport, I found it somewhat comforting that the volunteers and I listened to a local contemporary gospel radio station during our drive into town.

As we rode down freshly paved roads, most of which were smoother than parts of Mass. Ave. in Boston, we occasionally passed by candle-illuminated shanty homes blaring Nicki Minaj and other American hip-hop artists' music. I first thought this bizarre but quickly reminded myself that hearing Nicki Minaj is always bizarre. I arrived safely and hung my hat at a boarding house a couple of miles from downtown Monrovia.

May 19

Seemingly immediately after getting over any claustrophobic feelings that I may have had while lying in my mosquito net-enveloped bed, I heard a knock. Time for work. I again hopped into the Pathfinder and rode to Rebuild Africa's handsome office. Soon, I discovered that my first tasks included developing a workplan in Excel, creating a brief PowerPoint presentation, and writing a one-page Word document to promote a college-to-workplace institute that RA will be putting on next summer. Despite traveling thousands of miles, I could not escape Microsoft's grasp.

After work, Bill, RA's president and former Humphrey scholar at MIT, brought me with him to the US Embassy for a meeting of Liberians who had studied in the US. Afterwards, we had dinner with a former Kennedy School classmate of his who now works for a New York-based non-profit that contracts with the UN.

A medley of various barbed wires gracing the perimeter walls of the American Embassy

May 20

Each workday begins with an organization-wide devotional: according to a schedule, a staff member reads a passage from the Bible and then we discuss it. Today, we read from 1 Samuel 4, a passage that signifies that one battle, however daunting or demoralizing, does not necessarily determine the fate of a people.

For dinner, I walked about ten paces from the boarding house and ate at a Pakistani-owned restaurant, which served up a mean chana masala.

Next Monday and Tuesday, I'll be traveling with another staff member to Cuttington University to meet with a dean and students to promote next year's institute, get feedback about its curriculum, and advertise for this year's summit, which will take place during the last week of June.

Before Departure

Hi all,

This summer, I'll be serving in Liberia for the non-profit Rebuild Africa. Among other tasks, I'll be helping to facilitate a leadership summit for Liberian youth in Monrovia. I hope to post to this blog photos and text, likely never more than a paragraph or two at a time, from my stint.

I'm scheduled to fly out this week and to return during the second week of July. Feel free to email me (elliotjwatts+lbmh@gmail.com) or Skype me (elwa09) while I'm abroad.

Best,

Elliot