Long walk

Today our great adventure to visit a remote village got messed up by a misunderstanding with the county health team, so Jonathan and I came up with a plan B.  We walked to a village we had visited before on motorbikes.  It is a sweet little village where we were welcomed by the singing ladies before- Jayproken.  We had a nice chat with the PA who runs the clinic and got a tour of the community by a couple of locals.  It is a community of much civic pride.  It is clean and neat beyond what we've seen before.  Everyone was friendly and the kids were fascinated by our white skin.  The walk is 3 hours each way so we made points by walking instead of driving.  We used our feet just as the locals do.  They walk the distance to the Fish Town market every Thursday.  There are no stores in Jayproken.  We found out there is a village a 5 hour walk past Jayproken.  That makes an 8 hour walk to the market for them.  

 On the way back we stopped for lunch of MREs left in our warehouse after the army's training of our staff..  I had cheese tortellini and Jonathan had chicken pesto with penne pasta.  We were living high off the hog tasting favors we have not had I quite a while.  Jonathan's MRE was complete with "patriotic sugar cookies" stamped with US on them.

We did see two snakes on the road.  On was killed before we got there.  And a smaller one was efficiently dispatched by a woman with a machete.

The spirit of Sunday

Today started for me with a man on the water tower listening to his radio.  Unfortunately it was only 343 am.  After two tries of asking he finally left.  Nevertheless I was awake.  I spent the next long while texting with my lovely partner.  As we were communicating I heard the first rooster crow of the morning.  Then at 500 sharp the Muslim prayer began.  They are probably the most punctual group in Liberia.  The women who haul water to fill the tanks arrived about 630 and the place just came alive from there.  Sleep over.

I dragged out at about 800 and immediately joined the water hauling crew.  We took three 55 gallon drums to HANDS, an NGO concerned with agriculture and women/child nutrition, where they were kind enough to let us harvest water from their well.  It took about 40 minutes to load the drums bucket by bucket.  We then loaded the water bucket by bucket into the tanks.  Between the women hired to haul water and those of us who just pitched in we hauled 1600 gallons of water.  Hopefully enough to last the day and night.  It is feared we have a plumbing leak, so we will see.  Word is we will have a bore hole dug next week so the hauling can stop.  

After hauling Dr. Joe and I went to the Lutheran church.  Andrew is the pastor and I met him when we took the bikes to Jayproken where he has another congregation.  He was fire and brimstone style without the hateful dialogue.  He preached self reflection and responsibility.  The singing was excellent. Lidya, one of our nurses from Monrovia played the sassa, the gourd with the beads tied around them, her face was beaming and her body was moving. If I have ever seen anyone lost in the grace of God she was it.  Gorgeous.  

Here is a picture of the inside of my room.  Notice the fine shelving courtesy of Dr. Joe, the furniture and creature comfort guru.

This picture is specifically for Jean.  This is Benedictus, the man who devised the garbage separation system- organics, cans, and trash.  Large plastic bottles are saved for reuse in town.  Cans are treated somehow to enhance rusting.  The rest is burned.  Anything we can do to decrease burning is excellent.

Walking with a native.

This afternoon Jonathan and I took a walk with John.  John is in his 60s and a nurse in Minnesota, but he grew up in Bong County, Liberia.  He knows a lot about the culture here.  We walked out the road through the jungle and came across a girl and her younger siblings.  They were there harvesting rice from their private plot of land.  John informed us that a man will have four or five wives all of whom (with their children) work on the man's large farm.  The women help there and if they are strong enough either lease or find their own small plot to grow a crop that will supplement the feeding of her children if there is not enough food or sell the crop to pay for school or books or clothing or just extra gifts for the kids.  It is an insurance policy of sorts.  They showed us how to harvest the rice and the boys explained how they process it beating it to take the husk off and then wash and dry it.  The fine rice particles and flour are made into cereal for kids and the rest is cooked for a meal.  

John was appalled at how hard the women worked filling our water.  They push full 5 gallon jugs up a quite steep hill from the closest pump three or four to a wheelbarrow.  They are strong.  He said in Bong County the woman would never be doing that.  The men have more pride.  They would be working while the women would be at home taking care of the house and kids.  Hmmm.  It did occur to me that the teenaged boys that keep accosting me on the streets wanting me to connect them up with a job could be up here at the gate offering to do day labor.  One of them today showed me his betting soccer betting cards.  "Winners" it is called and one can bet on almost any soccer game anyone cares about.  Not sure how that works.  Winners must have Internet.  

Here is sunset over tent city.

My final resting place

I think it has been almost a week living in the tent city now.

These are Army tents set up on cement slabs surrounded by a bamboo fence.  

There is another perimeter fence and a large metal gate separating us from the community.  As you can see we are on the top of a hill.  Too much symbolism if you let your mind go there.  The compound was designed to separate us because we would be in contact with ebola, but since we are not, probably, going to have any contact we should probably be in the guest houses in town.  That said the tent city is comfortable and affords us some privacy in a place where the white person is constantly approached for monetary help.  On a walk a couple days ago I was surrounded by four boys about 19 yo.  They walked about a mile with me touching my arms and purring their arms around my shoulders. This is just the physicality of the people here but it was uncomfortable.  I fairly rapidly put a stop to it but their proximity was still too much.  They talked the entire way about how I should take them to America and how I should give them my phone number so we could be friends.  About a half mile from my destination I stopped and told them I wanted them to leave.  It felt uncomfortable, but it is different here.  Engaging in conversation is risky and there is no subtlety.  I felt like carion plucked by buzzards when we parted.  

Water at our abode is supplied (until the bore hole digging truck arrives) by women who carry the water from different wells around town and fill our tanks.

The system is designed to be gravity feed or pressurized.  Without the bore hole we are having to conserve water as the human chain is not enough to supply more than the very basic water usage.  With the spotty water supply the toilet function is dicey as well.  There is a problem because there is no alternative for the toilets.  I am beginning to think a bank of outhouses may not have been the worst idea.  Maybe the well truck will come soon.  Even with dicey sanitation we have it better than most people in town.

Garbage is burned here.  There is no trash pick up, no recycling, and no organic disposal.  Imagine that, Minneapolis!  The incineration is done on the ground in any handy open space.  The smoke is nasty.  One of our workers has decided we should minimize burning so he is taking the liter size water bottles into town so they can be reused and has designated an organics waste bin that he will bury.  I thank him for minimizing burn.  His name is Benedictus.

Random people pic for you.

They just stopped my and asked me to take their picture.

First new post of 2015!

Here is my jungle walk this morning.  Now that we are in the tent city (more later) I can get through the population and have plenty of road ahead that is unpopulated.  The road leads to the Jayproken which is the village where the women danced for us.  The village is a 3 1/2 hour walk so the number of people on the road especially in the earlyish morning is few.  It is a walk through the jungle with small critters and a cacophony of birds.  If anyone can identify any of the plants, have at it!

Ants working hard.

Use with caution.  Motorbikes pick their boards wisely.

This afternoon we were officially welcomed by the County Health Team.  They did a ceremony in which the "cola" was shared between us and them.  

On the right is the county official presenting the cola, a walnut sized nut to Dr. Chessor, our medical director.  Because they were presenting to a woman they had to have a man receive as well so Dr. Joe stood up.  I was assured it would go vice versa as well.  This is a very gender oriented place.  

The chief spoke.  He was very animated and quite a showman.  Some of his speech was in the native tongue and interpreted.  He essentially welcomed us and sealed the partnership.

Found a new reddish banana today.  Very yummy and hardy.  I had a couple for dinner in order to take a break from Liberian food.  I almost lost my tongue and lips to chemical burn at brunch today.  Typically the food is pretty good, but there is little variety.  There is some common seasoning to pretty much everything and everything is hot.  Today's lunch was unpalatable in its peppery heat.  Loved my bananas tonight.

What an amazing day!

Having Cheryl here is excellent.  Not only is she supremely cool but this traipsing around doing investigation of the health system here is way fun.  We rented Isaac, Prince and Joseph and their bikes again and Jonathon, Cheryl and I hit the road north of town this time.  We visited a health center about a half an hour away and a health clinic on the way back.  The nurse at the health clinic was pretty straight forward.  He described the shortage of medication since the government took over supplying them about three months ago.  He said it is pretty frustrating trying to treat patients when they have nothing to treat them with.  Everyone else is pretty tight lipped about the shortage.  It is hard to get the straight scoop.

After the clinic we headed back to Fish Town and then to a village about twelve miles away down a road that was little more than a cow path.  I can't tell you how pretty it was back ther with the massive stands of bamboo and the clusters of some gorgeous yellow flower.

Prince and me on the bike.

When we finally got to our destination we found the clinic closed.  A Lutheran Pastor came by and an energetic woman who began yelling.  We thought she was crazy then realized she was dancing in excitement and calling the rest of the neighbors.  They gradually gathered and surrounded us.  First the women danced and sang.

Sorry I can't post the video of them.  Then the elders talked to us about their clinic and asked us our business there.  We were careful not to make any promises but let them know that we were medical and we are around thinking how we can contribute if we see no ebola patients.  After about a half hour we thanked them and they thanked us and we took off down the cow path back to Fish Town.  I wish you could hear the harmonies and see the discipline of the people as the elders talked and the respect they showed when we talked.  This village, a three and a half hour walk from Fish Town, is the population center for about 2500 people.  You can't even imagine the access problems with a road like we traveled.  Most cars couldn't navigate it.  

The Lutheran church has a large presence there.  The health clinic was built by the church.  The Lutheran church in Liberia has as a partner the Missouri Synod.  They built the clinic, but when the last war happened they pulled their funding so the government took over the clinic.  The church also built a school but the government built one of those too so the church is in the process of switching theirs to a vocational technical school.  There is a lot going on in what appeared to be a tiny village on a cow path.  

Tonight we went to a new place to eat.  It was the first time I liked plantains.  Not sure why theirs were good.  The beans were hot beyond belief so I had a couple of hotdogs.   It was good reminiscent of Cuttington.  Blech.  

Merry Christmas!

We woke up today to a Santa gift tied to our door.  This was clearly an American Santa for two reasons.  First, the gift contained a luscious mini snickers bar.  Yum.  Second, it was a gift.  Liberians call Santa Old Beggar Man.  Their Santa comes and is given gifts.  There is no getting.  As Christmas has made its way here we have been approached by many people who have said, "My Christmas is on you!"  Apparently they say this to each other and not just the white people.  We have all been approached by folks asking for money because we are the rich white folks so it is refreshing to know that the request for Christmas is not just at us.  

On one of my first days here is was approached by a 19 yo boy.  He was very close to me physically and announced that I could be his mommy and he could be my black boy.  His plan would be that I adopt him and he could come to the land of plenty.  After that first meeting he got the message that he came on too strong.  Since then he helped me buy a new phone and I gave him my old one to fix and sell.  I also gave him a small an

Mount of money for helping me find a new phone.  After I gave him the money he left immediately.  This is not about friendship for him.  It is about personal gain.  Still I didn't mind giving the money and I don't mind seeing him for a couple minutes each day.  

We are staying in a guest house that has a woman who comes around and helps with laundry and cleaning.  She is not always here and a man named Harris does most of the work and does it well.  In the hall the other morning she asked me for $30 American dollars for her Christmas.  I gave her $10 and was troubled all day.  Obviously it was not the money itself but the manner in which it was solicited.  By my cultural norms it was crass, but people here, not just the kids blatantly ask the rich white folks for money all the time.

Joe under the Christmas ball.  I brought decorations from Monrovia.

Our typical breakfast morning gathering for those staying here.

If I could publish these you would know that I have spent days on the back of Prince's motorbike.  He hardly talks so I don't know him well but in out small dealings I know he is a smart, honest man.  He has jobs for NGOs mostly working with kids until he was hurt in a motorcycle accident a couple years ago.  (I know.  I was nervous as well). He has a 4" leg length discrepancy due to a tib-fib fracture so hard labor is tough for him.  He is married and has 3 kids.  All the times we went out riding he never asked for extra.  We agreed up front on a price and he stuck to it.  His buddy Isaac continually overestimated the distances and asked for extra gas money.  A few days ago he made a point to stop and give me a ride between his other customers (he uses his motorcycle as a taxi for a living).  When we got to my destination about a minute later I asked him how much and he said nothing.  He is not a gouger and, in my understanding of the world, a good business man.  As Christmas approached it dawned on me that I wanted to give him extra money for Christmas.  I stopped him on the road and gave him $20 US.  As I was sitting at CeCe's, the local hang out.  He brought his daughter to meet me.  She is three and was terrified but he had dressed her up in a fancy clean frilly dress.  He was clearly proud of her.  Her name was Princess.  That was $20 I felt great about giving.

Prince and me!

Merry Christmas!!!