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.