Last weekend I got sick. I had diarrhea and threw up a little bit. I felt better after a couple days, but never 100%. Then, this past weekend I threw up again. I called a doctor friend from the Clinton Foundation, who recommended that I take the anti-biotic Ciprofloxacin. Now, I feel a lot better. I bought the Ciprofloxacin at the local pharmacy for 125LD ($2.07). It’s kind of nice not having to worry about prescriptions and co-pays.

I acquired a license plate for my motorcycle this week. I’m now completely legal when driving around. Some friends were admiring my shining new Liberian driver’s license (they just switched over to computer printed licenses) and noticed that my drivers license number is 000070. I have the 70th license in the country. We also noticed that I have a automobile license and not a motorcycle license. Oh well.

Sunday I went to the “white” church, Monrovia Christian Fellowship (MCF), though, it wasn’t as white as I thought it would be. It was like 7% white. It made me think of racially diverse churches in suburbia, that only have 3 black families attending. There was an impressive assortment of white SUVs parked up and down the street, though.

When I looked at the front of the church, it felt like I was back in America. It had a white screen for the projector, some crosses, sound deadening panels, and two speakers hanging from the ceiling. But there was no projector, just an overhead for transparencies. The walls on the side of the church were lined with windows that were opened to let in light and promote airflow. The walls also had a line of ornamental concrete blocks that have designs cut into them, again to let air flow through. I don’t think you see this too much in the States, but you see it over here all the time. Needless to say, there was no AC.

The praise band was good. They sang a few songs I knew, and a couple I didn’t. They had a transparency and I could understand almost all the worship leader said, which was awesome. It’s not much fun singing along when you don’t know what they’re saying. The volume was appropriate and the sound well mixed - also nice.

They had a white pastor, which was surprising because I expected a black pastor. He talked about another pastor so I assume there’s more than one pastor at that church. He spoke on suffering for God, from Hebrews 12. I liked it. I felt it appropriate after I had been throwing up the night before. He reminded me a bit of the pastor at the church I attended in Atlanta because he went off on a few lengthy tangents. He also references scripture a good deal, which is also a plus in my book. I feel it’s important to cite your sources, whether in school, church, or work.

My biggest complaint is that I didn’t meet anyone there. There was no, “turn and great your neighbor” time. I didn’t understand what the announcer said when it was time for visitors to stand up. I was also not paying attention when he said it. Instead, I was looking around at stuff. But hopefully I’ll meet someone next week.

I also visited the mercy ship Africa Mercy on Sunday. It’s docked in Monrovia’s port for the next 10 months. I thought it funny was that it’s docked across from the ship that the French navy hauled in after it was caught with two tons of cocaine aboard. For those of you who don’t keep up with the price of such things, that’s several hundred million dollars in cocaine, which is more than the countries budget. I’ve heard rumors that the cocaine wasn’t incinerated like it was supposed to be but instead has been sold by port officials and is now back on the market. Anyway…

The ship is way nice. It was kind of surreal walking around the halls because all the lights were working, LCD screens were telling me what’s going on, there were caution signs, AC, and anti-slip tape on the stairs. It was like I was right back in the first world, except that instead of 24 hours of plane flights, it was only a couple steps away. It was a little weird but nice. I had an lemonade that came with free refills.

Juan, the guy I met through my friend Missy who got me on the ship, was really nice. He showed me around and was a great host. He showed me all over the boat. It was quite impressive. They have the only Starbucks and CT scanner in west Africa. I can’t decide which is more shocking. I can’t imagine what it must be like for the people they help, what it’s like for people who have never been to the first world to come on a ship like this to be treated by highly trained doctors with cutting edge equipment. Juan told me the babies that are born on the ship get spoiled.

And that’s life in Monrovia.

John
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I’ve been wanting to write something a bit more introspective, so I’m writing a bit about my thoughts on beggars in Liberia. I’d like to be generous, kind, and loving to people. At the same time I want to be safe, responsible, and wise (I’m also a bit of a cheapskate). I’m not sure I’ve figured out how to best balance all these, but I thought I’d share my ideas so far. I welcome feedback.

Needless to say, there are lots of beggars here. Being white I’m seen as being rich. Relatively speaking, I am. Eighty percent of Liberians make less than a dollar a day. Though GT doesn’t exactly pay well, and Liberia isn’t cheap, I am able to live comfortably without fear of going broke by giving away a few US dollars.

From my experiences, I’ve concluded that there are three, maybe four, different kinds of beggars. The first kind are the destitute - those who have nothing and no hope. These are probably my favorite beggars. They don’t cross the street to follow me for three blocks telling me how hard there lives are, that they only need something “small-small” to make it until next week when something in their life will change. They just humbly hold out their hands. Their faces speaking more than adequately to their need. Their clothes are worn and tattered. They gratefully accept whatever they’re given. Most likely I wouldn’t even understand their Liberian English if they tried to explain themselves to me. These beggars tend to be the elderly and/or maimed.

My heart goes out to these people. Physical they’re unable to work, so I can’t think of them as being lazy, and me being a form of welfare that removes the motivation for them to go out and work. I’ve yet to see any homeless shelter or soup kitchens here. I don’t know what other alternatives they have other than begging. Even if there was a shelter here, it would be over-crowed the minute it opened, so I’m happy to help these people with a few Liberian dollars or some food. I can’t imagine Jesus walking by and not stopping to help such people, though I must admit, when I’m pressed for time, I’ll often pass by without looking twice.

There was an elderly gentlemen, who was missing a leg, sitting by the pavilion where the TRC hearings took place. He never asked me for anything. He just sat there. I knew he was in need, and bought him a bag of peanuts. He gladly accepted it with out a word.

I’m not sure how I feel about liking that these beggars don’t accost me. On the one hand, I feel that if you’re in need you shouldn’t need an elaborate story to make me feel sorry, or follow me for a quarter mile. But then again, maybe I’m too selfish.

The second kind of beggars are kind of like the homeless you’ll meet on the streets in America. They walk up to you and ask for money. Usually they are in better physical condition than the aforementioned beggars, which makes me wonder how in need they are and what the best way would be to handle their issues. They are definitely in need; the whole country is in need. Unemployment is 70 percent. No one is going to one day stop begging and the next have a job. But then again, begging isn’t a sustainable source of income. You’re never going to get yourself out of poverty by asking expats for money.

But what do you do in the mean time? I can’t say, “you need to get a job, but for now just go hungry.” And while I do have money, I don’t have enough to give to everyone. Some expats have told me that I’m just enforcing these beggars’ dependence on others, which is true. In general, the country needs to move on past the expectation that the rest of the world will help them and start working hard for themselves. But a lot of people are in genuine need now, and the country’s problems stretch far beyond their dependence on the rest of the world.

These beggars may also be a little more demanding. They might want more than a few Liberian dollars and can be picky eaters. I bought a little boy some peanuts after he had followed me for four blocks asking for help. I was hungry and had already decided to buy some peanuts for myself. They’re cheap and have lots of protein; what’ s not to love. I figured if they’re good enough for me, they’re good enough for him. He just looked at me like, “that’s it?” I was not impressed. If this kid had been really hungry he wouldn’t care what I gave him. He wanted sardines and bread. But at the same time I doubt he had a cupboard full of food at home. Was I just reinforcing his belief that the white man will buy his dinner, or was a I really helping him? Maybe both.

I was buying water one time, and a man told me, “buy me a water.” He wasn’t very nice about it. He was dressed decently well for a Liberian. There were a lot of people standing around, so if I bought him a water what else could I do but everyone a water? I don’t carry enough cash on me to buy everyone water; it wouldn’t be safe for me to be handing out money on a street corner, and I didn’t want to buy everyone a water. That’s not what I was there for, so I offered him the rest of my water. He said he wanted his own water.

That really annoyed me. Beggars can’t be choosers. I felt pretty sure this guy thought, “he has money, he should buy me something.” This is not an attitude I want to foster. Bill Gates has money, and no doubt I’d probably try to be his friend, and get in good with him. Maybe he’d give me some free computers or something. But I’d never walk up to him and say, “buy me a car,” thinking that he owed me a car just because of his wealth.

There was a man standing next to the gentleman who had asked for the water. He was older, and his clothes weren’t as nice. He quickly snatched the water I had extended to the first man. That man was thirsty; that’s my kind of beggar.

Sometimes I’ll be talking to a guy for a few blocks, listening to his story. Later on someone else will see me and tell me the guy I was with isn’t an “honest person.” This would be the possible 4th kind of beggar - the not so honest beggar (I’ll get to three in a minute). As I said before, everyone is in need, but these are the conmen. Obviously, I know where I stand with these beggars. I just thought I’d mention them. One such fellow remembered my name from when I was here in May. He told me he needed just a little money to buy gas for his scooter so he could give rides to people and make money. A couple days later I saw him on his scooter riding around. He had gas somehow. If you’re able to afford your own scooter as a Liberian, you’re doing pretty well.

Finally there are the beggars I know - the people I work with, live close to, or otherwise see on a regular basis. For me, these are the hardest to know what to do for. I want to know them and be their friend, so naturally I want to help them. But I don’t want them to think that every time they need something they should ask John, or more importantly, that “John will always get me out of trouble.”

There’s a boy named Marbaux that lives by my house. In a round about way he told me how he didn’t have a notebook for school. On a side note, he doesn’t look me in the eye when he tells me what he needs, which I don’t like. I feel you should man up and look someone in the eye if your asking something from them. Maybe he doesn’t feel worthy to look me in the eye? At any rate, I bought him a notebook. It was only a dollar, and going to school is a habit I’d like to encourage. Education has been proven to lead to a sustainable economy. But then the next week a group of girls stopped me by my house and asked for notebooks. I haven’t bought them anything. I probably could afford to buy them all their books. But at some point I would have to stop. If I bought the girls books how long would it be until their parents were telling me how they need more rice, charcoal, or clothes? And I’m a little weary to buy stuff for girls; that could get complicated. But no doubt these girls need school supplies. What to do?

Sometimes the security guards for the building next door will ask for money to get home, for cigarettes, or for water. These guys have a job. Granted, they probably aren’t paid super well. But they have work. If they can’t afford transportation or water, I feel they should take this up with their employer and not me. Not that they know what it is to be professional, but they aren’t very professional. I laugh to myself when people like this talk about going to America and making it big. It really bothers me that they come over at night asking for a ride home as though I’m their only option. How did they get there in the first place? Did they plan ahead at all, or were they just thinking the white man would take care of it? I haven’t given these guys anything. I try to be nice to them and say hi when I walk by. Sometimes I’m a little worried since they know where I live, but I really don’t want to encourage them.

A week ago a guy I work with asked me for 75LD to get home. He told me his son had spent his money for a ride home from school, and so he gave his son his money. I had talked with this guy before. He has been friendly to me since I have known him, never wanting anything in return. I told him if I gave him money, it was a one time deal, that I didn’t want him to come asking for money next week. He told me that wouldn’t happen, and that he felt embarrassed to ask for money in the first place.

I felt good about helping him. He’d had a rough day and needed a little help. So far, he hasn’t asked for money again. I couldn’t imagine living on such a small margin; it must take a lot of faith. I’ve had unexpected expenses of much larger magnitudes before - blown out tires or unexpected bills - but I’ve always been able to pay them. It wasn’t fun, and it did impact my overall saving and spending, but life went on just fine.

So those are my thoughts on the state of begging in Liberia. Like I said earlier, I still don’t have it all figured out. I probably never will. I’d like to break it all down into a, “give this guy this, and give that guy that, and give him nothing,” formula. However, life is very much on a case by case basis.

I have learned to be honest with people. Not to make excuses about not having any money, but just saying, “No.” When I have the time, I like to hear someone out and understand their situation. Maybe there’s something I can do that will be more helpful than just giving them money. Sometimes I’ll tell the person why I won’t give them money, but I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Jesus said, “give to everyone who asks.” (Luke 6:30) I’d like to think of myself as someone who follows His example, though I suspect I fall quite short. The Bible does say we are to be wise, even shrewd, with our resources, but I’d hate to use that to justify my own greed. I wish I could be like Peter who when asked for money by a cripple beggar said, “Silver and gold I have not, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.”(Acts 3:6) It’s been a while since I’ve healed anybody.

In America I like to buy a beggar a burger instead of giving them money. It ensures the money is spent on their nourishment, and it shows that you care enough to take 15 minutes out of your schedule. But things here just aren’t that simple. There’s never a Burger King around when you need one, and needs often extend beyond food. I came here to help. To give of my skills and time. How should I give of my money? How do I help the immediate need without causing long term harm, and still show love, acceptance, and grace?

John
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For the 2nd time, President George W. Bush crashed in on a country I am living in. The first time this happened was in 2003 in Bangkok, when Bush dropped in for the East Asian Economic Conference. Once again, Bush’s arrival brought the city to a stand still, and once again I left the city. This time I was invited by Jeff Austin from the Carter Center to join him and his mom on a trip to Bong Mines.

Bong Mines is located in Bong County, Liberia. They used to mine iron ore from the hills in Bong before the war. The train tracks used to haul all the ore to Monrovia’s port. As far as I know, these are the only working train tracks in all of Liberia.  From there it was shipped abroad to be made into steel.

So the train guy had told Jeff to be at the port at 7:00am. Neither Jeff nor I had used the train before, so we didn’t know what to expect. Jeff was told he could bring his Carter Center (CC) vehicle on the train so he could drive around once he got to the mines. I drove my bike over and didn’t want to leave it in a train yard so Jeff said I could probably bring the bike on the train too. At 7:30 we still hadn’t found the guy. Finally around 8:15, after a random herd of cattle passed through the train yard, our man showed up.

One small train engine and a flat bed car rolled up next to us. They pushed the train car up to an embankment and we drove our vehicles on. Then we were off. The whole train was just for us. It was Jeff, his mom, me, Jeff’s driver, and about 6 Liberians. I’m not sure what all the Liberians were there for; maybe they were just hitching a ride. I suspect they were there to ensure that if we were held up, we’d out number the others. It’s kind of weird in a country that has outlawed guns, that to be safe all you need is more people…and maybe a machete.

It felt like a scene out of an Indiana Jones movie, like we were two adventures traveling to remote lands with our dirt bike and pick-up truck ready to conquer whatever terrain lay ahead of us. Jeff and I rode on top of the truck as we moved through the jungle with the wind in our hair and the bike sitting next to us. It was awesome. We could walk around wherever we wanted and do whatever we wanted. Jeff and I were both terribly excited about all of this. We both remarked about the extreme amounts of liability we weren’t bothered with, being in a country that isn’t sue happy. I was slightly bothered by how neo-colonial I felt about the whole trip. It was a little absurd that a whole train (and who knows how much diesel) was used for the recreation of three people. But we were contributing to the local economy, and learning about the country…and it was awesome.

When we got to the mines I was really impressed by how big the operation had been at one time. It was weird to think of Liberia as being an industrial power. Before the civil war Liberia was one of the more prosperous countries in Africa. Now all that was left was the huge steel skeletons of refineries and warehouses. We found a local who agreed to be our tour guide. Jeff’s mom rode around in the pick-up while Jeff and I took turns riding the bike.

We first saw the mines, which were strip mines. In the absence of electricity to run the pumps, the mine had filled with water. All that was left were some cut away hills and a big lake. We then went to the refinery where they took the ore from the mines, added some chemical, and made little iron pellets. The pellets were then shipped off to be melted down elsewhere. At one place the whole road was covered with these pellets. Our tour guide Genius and I would run and slide down the road over the pellets. It was a lot of fun.

At one end of the mining area, there was a big plain. It felt very African. It was the kind of plain you’d expect to see lions and giraffes walking on. In the distance you could see the smoke from people making charcoal.

There were some people “mining” at the mines. We came across a couple groups of guys who were digging up the ground around the mining buildings to collect the scrap metal from the old buildings. They were paid $5 for every 100kg of scrap metal they found - not a lot of money. It seemed ironic that what was once used to mine iron ore, was now being mined for iron.

On the ride back we all sat in the truck on the train and listened to the live news of Bush’s visit. Everyone in Liberia loves Bush. They see him as the man who made Charles Taylor leave. Bush did publicly demand Taylor step down, but never followed it up with any military action. He did send a few marines over as a humanitarian assessment team and had an aircraft carrier swing by the coast on it’s way home from Iraq, but no American troops ever did anything in Liberia. The war didn’t end until an Economic Co-op of West African States (ECOWAS) peace keeping team arrived. Nonetheless, they love him here, which is quite different from the rest of the world. The radio announcer was pretty funny. My favorite quote: “Bush is waving to the people, he’s waving to me. I’m waving back, I’m waving back!” There was an expectation that Bush would announce a huge aid package for Liberia. So there was a little disappointment that he only promised a million text books for Liberian schools; he gave Ghana $500 million. America is the largest donor to Liberia though, so American has been giving its fair share.

I was also told that Bush’s 8 hour stop over in Liberia cost $50 million. About 400 people came a week before Bush arrived to secure the place. All the cars Bush and his entourage rode around in where shipped over. Also shipped over were a few helicopters - makes me feel good about my spending so far in Africa.

John
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Today I bought a 150cc Tonda dirt bike. No, I don’t mean Honda; I mean Tonda. As best I can tell, it’s the Chinese rip-off of a Honda. In the States the dealer would get their pants sued off by Honda for copyright, patent, and trademark infringement. I was told by the dealer that I bought it from that Honda parts would fit on it. It’s still a cheaply made bike - kind of like the Huffy of motorcyles. Even though it looks ready for off-roading with big shocks and tires, it has a sticker that says, “for street use only.” Though on the streets in Monrovia, what’s the difference? And for $1,350.00 for the bike and two helmets, who am I to complain. The 2nd helmet is to ensure the safety of any friends who ride along with me.

I took it for a spin around town. It was a lot of fun. Especially the dirt roads. And it, according to the owner’s manual, uses 2.4 liters per 100km. This is certainly better than the 15mpg my truck gets, which is good because gas here is close to $5 a gallon. Though, I think both the bike and the truck are equally bad for the environment.

At any rate, I’m way excited about not having to wait for a cab or pay a driver. It’s kind of a pain trying to get stuff done when you’re at the mercy of cab drivers in rush hour traffic. I’ve also been told that it’s not very safe to ride in a cab here - not that this is any safer, just more fun.

I’m schedule to get a driver’s license and tag tomorrow. I had a Liberian friend, Sando, arrange for the driver’s license for me while I was in Harper. When dealing with the bureaucracy here, it’s often better to have a local do all the paper work since they’re less likely to seek a bribe from him or her. Sando and I met Saturday to plan our attack for the obtaining of the license. He told me I needed to take a driving exam and to go to the hospital to do an eye test. But then he was like, “but I took care of that.” According to Sando, I would have had to bribe the test givers anyway, so he just went ahead and did it. I now had two stamps of approval on my paper work.

The whole reason I wanted to get a license in the first place, and not carry around a five dollar bill, is to support the local government and the push for rule of law. It kind of worked.

In other news, I went to an expat party where beer bong was played. The locals at the party seemed to really get into it. I have to admit I’m not a huge fan of the game. From my days at Tech I perceive beer pong to be what you do when there aren’t enough girls to talk to. Nonetheless, I was excited by the cultural exchange.

I also had a great talk with Tony and Charles, two Liberians, about the TRC. Tony was all about forgetting the past and moving on, and Charles thought it important that we learn from our mistakes. Tony’s opinion seems representative of the Liberians I’ve met. He also wanted to see a war crimes court and punishment given out to the various war lords. We’ll see what happens.

John

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A lot happened in Harper. I took notes so I could better recount it all. If I had had more time, I would flesh this out more. But I don’t.

Harper is really pretty and laid back compared to Monrovia. While it has less in the way of amenities and stuff - being at the far end of the country getting things there just isn’t as easy - it does have some very good seafood and an easy going style. Several prominent men in Liberian history are from Harper so several of the buildings are, or were before the war, really pretty. There are no traffic jams in harper; it’s safer, and you can walk anywhere. They had motorcycle taxis, so if you needed to get from one end to the other it’d cost you 50 cents with little waiting, which is nice. In Monrovia it’s pretty cheap for a cab too, but it’ll take all day for an empty one to come by. I stayed with my good friend Jeff Austin at the Carter Center compound. Much thanks to Jeff and the Carter Center for their hospitality.

Day 1: The Carter Center compound had an outdoor, bamboo enclosed, shower. This was probably my favorite thing about the compound. I don’t know what it is, but something about showering outside was super nice - The cold water, the sun, the chickens walking by (Jeff had chickens and goats), or a nice shower under the stars. So relaxing, so nice. I also rented a scooter my first day in Harper. That was super nice. I miss the freedom of going where I want when I want.

Day 2: A local guy saw my TRC shirt and said I “brought war.” I asked him what he meant and he said that when he hears the stories in the hearings it makes his “blood boil” and makes him want to do harm to those who have harmed him and others. I appreciated his thoughts. I’m glad he has the self control to abstain from the hearings if they’ll cause such a reaction in him. It does seem hard to convey to the average Liberian the importance of addressing the underlying causes of the conflict and make sure they don’t come again. The current conflict in Kenya is an example of what happens when the underlying causes aren’t dealt with. Though it may be painful, it’s better to dig it up now, than to have it erupt later.

Jeff took us to the only night club in Harper, Black and White. There we met DJ Bob. Bob was great. We were the only people there so he played classic rock songs for us. Dire Straights, The Eagles, 80s rock bands whose names I can’t remember. It was wonderful. I also found out that there is a Jacksonville, Liberia in Maryland Co.

Day 3: A woman gave one of the most horrifying testimonies I’ve heard at the hearings. She told how her mother was shot in the mouth at point blank range, and that a pregnant woman was cut open by the rebels. She would have given birth to twins. The woman giving the testimony became quite emotional. A lot of times at the hearings witnesses talk about terrible things, but this was the first one that really made me respond emotionally. Dede Delopi , Vice Chair of the TRC, got up and comforted the women as she began to cry. I thought that was a really kind gesture from the commissioner.

Even though we had already come to an agreement in Monrovia, UNMIL wasn’t sharing it’s internet with us to update the website. We met with a guy from UNMIL who came from Monrovia about the issue. He made some calls and then told us that since we were “IT professionals,” there was a fear that we would hack into UNMIL’s computers and get sensitive information. He said this was ridiculous (as it is), and they should let us use their facilities. So that was nice to get resolved.

Day 4: We had a Valentine’s Day moment at the TRC. I couldn’t really understand the Liberian English of the witness, but from what the commissioners asked her, I gathered that she was from one tribe and her husband another. When the rebels came, they didn’t like her tribe and tried to kill her. Her husband stuck by her and saved her from them. Inspired by this tale of love triumphing over hate and war, Commissioner Bull noted that this was an appropriate account to be heard on Valentine’s Day. She told the woman to go home and tell her husband she loves him and “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I don’t think the woman knows what Valentine’s Day is.

I was also impressed with Commissioner Stewart at the hearings today because of his resolve to understand the causes and current state of a land dispute that had led to killings during the war. It was getting close to 8pm at the hearings and I wanted to leave, but Stewart kept asking the witness about the dispute: was it ever solved? what was the government doing? what more could be done? what could the TRC do? Witnesses often give very little information if they’re not asked very specific question several times. I’m told it’s a coping mechanism. So Stewart spent like 30 minutes talking to the witness to get at the heart of the issue. I just wanted to go home and shower, so I was impressed that Stewart was willing to drag the hearings out to get to the bottom of this.

Day 5: I got to fly in an UNMIL flight from Harper to Monrovia. We flew in an MI-8. It was awesome. We flew at 1000 feet with the windows open, slowly cruising up the Liberian coastline. It’s the only way to fly, and the Liberian coastline is beautiful. Any other country and there’d be resorts, condos, and hotels all along the rivers, beaches, and lagoons that populate the coast. I also really liked landing vertically. That was way cool. I did feel very “blood diamondish” flying around like this. It was way sweet.

John
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This past week the TRC started its tour of all 15 counties. They’ll be holding public hearings on the past civil conflict in each county seat. I was able to tag along to help coordinate the updating of the website on the road. Check out this short video I made of the trip. And thanks to UNHCR for the speedy VSAT connection to upload such a file.

As the trip approached, the TRC started stock piling fuel and provisions in the office. I was a little blown away by all the stuff they were taking. In a country devoid of McDonalds, BPs, and Best Western’s, anything you’re going to want along the road you better bring with you. They brought a lot of stuff. I asked someone how they were going to get it there and they said, “in the back of a pick-up.” And I was like, “you’re going to need 20 pick-ups, and not these little 4 door Toyota Helixes (Tacomas).” But when I arrived the day of departure they had a military style flat bed truck, which was able to carry everything in one trip. So I was glad to see that work out.

So at 4pm on Saturday we depart for Harper in Maryland county. I was in the “thin” car. This meant they could put 4 of us in the back seat of the pick-up, and that’s what they did, so it was a little tight. As we drove out of Monrovia we kept stopping to buy things. At first I was a little annoyed that we weren’t making any progress with all these stops. But then I realized that they had all received their per diem for 35 days and were buying all sorts of things. It reminded me of Jr. high church trips, that at the first gas station stop everyone bought tons of candy and soft drinks. It also alleviated my fear that I had over packed. All these Liberians who were going to be on the road for the next month had brought only one small bag, and I had brought this huge camping backpack for a week. But after all the stops we made they were bringing about as much stuff as I was.

Harper is in the south east corner of Liberia on the coast, while Monrovia is much closer to the north west corner. Even though both cities are on the coast there’s no direct road, so you have to drive all the way into the interior and then back out. So it was like driving from Chicago to LA, but swinging through New Orleans first. This makes the trip quite long. The roads were paved all the way to Zwedru, which would be the New Orleans of the trip. Now even though the roads were paved, they weren’t like an interstate, they were more like a drive way that was paved 30 years ago that had since fallen into disrepair. It was a bumpy ride at times, so having the ground clearance of the truck certainly helped us. We spent the night in Ganta. This would be the Memphis, TN of the trip.

I had a great time with the guys in my car. Donzo was the driver, Gabby and Amara from the media outreach team were with us, and to ensure that God was with us, we had Pastor Teayah and Sheik Mohammed, and so He was.  So, unlike the other car in our caravan, we experienced no car trouble. As you would expect from any good road trip, we all bonded. So at 6am we headed out from Ganta to continue our journey. We stopped in Zwedru where the big flatbed had broken down and tried to figure out what to do about that. Then we hit the unpaved road. For a while the unpaved road was really good. A Chinese UN team had done a lot of work to smooth things out for us, but we quickly hit some rough riding. This caused the brush guard of the other truck in our convoy to fall off. The top fasteners broke, but the bottom one held fast, so the truck was pushing the brush guard over the ground. They ended up tying the brush guard to the roll bar in the back of the truck to solve the problem until we got to Fish Town where a local with some tools took off the brush guard.

The roads were really rough at times and very dusty. We were the chase car, and we didn’t have AC, so we either had windows down, or stayed dust free with windows up - not the kind of trade off you want.

After Fish Town the road got really bad. It had rained a few times, and this had caused huge mud/water pits to form in the middle of the road. I was told that a big part of the problem was that flat beds that drive on the road push it down when it gets wet causing these huge gullies to form. So the shoulders of the road would be at the standard height, but the middle of the road would be 4 feet down with water in it. It was crazy. And it was now 11pm, so we were fording rivers in the dark. I was really impressed with how well the trucks handled it. We did a lot of driving in 2×4. Donzo was the man, fearlessly plowing through everything (I mean, with a name like Donzo how could you not be). We did use 4×4 at times. One time the water even came up over the hood for a second, which the last time I was in a car and this happened it wasn’t good.

The guys in the car were all apologizing about how hard the ride was and about the four-wheeling and I was like, “guys, there are roads like this in America too.” (Granted I didn’t tell them that mostly we drive on them for fun just to see if we can, not because we actually want to go somewhere). They couldn’t believe that a country as rich as America had dirt roads. I mean, I grew up on one, and in hurricane season (our rainy season), it could become impassible to non 4×4 vehicles. But we wanted it to be a dirt road to ensure a quite neighborhood. They asked why all roads weren’t paved and I was like, “if you have some small road in nowhere America no one wants to pay for that.” And they were like, “but you spend billions of dollars a month in Iraq.” I was like, “exactly, you can’t afford wars and smooth roads.” They also told me they were impressed that I didn’t complain about the trip. Again, I didn’t tell them that this was sort of my idea of fun, and why I wanted to come out here in the first place - that and to help people.

Finally, a little after 12:00am we pulled into Harper. I stayed with Jeff Austin from the Carter Center, who was a most gracious host. I was glad I experienced driving for a total of 22 hours through 7 counties. It was a lot of fun, but I don’t think I’d want to do it again - at least not 4 deep in the back seat.

John

I just wanted to put a quick post up saying that I went to Nour Restaurant on Center Street, Monrovia, Liberia and had great service. Within 60 seconds of ordering my water, I had my water at the table. It was amazing. I’ve never seen such prompt service in all of Liberia. The food was pretty good, too. The hamburger was one of the best I’ve had in Liberia. Granted, that’s not saying much, but it was the best I’ve had since I’ve been here. I’ve heard the Crystal Ocean View is better, but I haven’t eaten there. At any rate, the service was great. My water, food, and check all came to me in reasonable stretches of time. I recommend it.

Also, check out my newly added pictures section; and I’ve added geo tagging to my blog. Click on the “show on map” link below to see where this post took place.

John

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So week two has drawn to an end. Here’s a list of the exciting events that have transpired. I meant to make some of these their own separate posts, but who has time for that?

I went to church this weekend. Last time I was here I met a local pastor, Luther Tarpeh, who was trained in Nigeria during the war and has since returned. He’s traveled quite a bit, and is well educated so I enjoy hearing him speak. My favorite driver and entrepreneur, Jonathan Saah, drove me to church. We had my surfboard on the roof of his car, and since church is on the way to the beach, I figured we’d kill two birds with one stone. On the way to church, we got pulled over by the local authorities for violating the traffic law by having something tied to the roof. Jonathan talked to them about it; I talked to them about it. I tried to get a more clear definition of this particular law in question but to no avail. So I asked if the car had a roof rack would it be OK? They said yes because it was made to carry things. So I explained that I had bought the surf bag and straps in America just to put this surfboard on this car. Showing that this was indeed made to carry surfboards on cars. At this point, we had been there for like 5 minutes and they had checked Jonathan’s paper work, which was legit. So they got bored, realized we weren’t going to give them a bribe, and let us go. Jonathan and I had a good laugh about the experience.

The church service was pretty good - a little different than what I was used to, but pretty good. I enjoyed Luther’s message on using our spiritual gifts for God, but they had this PA setup in this little bitty concrete classroom. I’m pretty sure they had no need for a PA in such a room, but they did, and the treble was turned all the way up. It was painfully loud. I wondered if the PA was broken, if no one knew how to operate an equalizer, or if this was the style, to play your music as loud as possible, or a bit of all three. It turned out the PA was Chinese, and all the labels on the knobs where in Chinese. Which is why they weren’t able to correctly tune the sound. Next time I’ll offer my assistance before the service. They had a 10 minute time when people gave testimonies of what God had done in their lives this week. I really liked that. I’m a big fan of the power of the personal story. One lady talked about how her daughter, who had been sick for a month, got better the day after her and the pastor prayed for her. I was also impressed with Luther’s desire to keep things on time. The church had much more of a charismatic flair than I am used to, as you’d expect in Africa, but Luther was the man in following God’s desire for order.

This church is located in Harbel, which is in the Firestone rubber plantation. I’m not a big fan of Firestone, and today didn’t make me like them anymore. The majority of the church members work for and live on the Firestone plantation. After the church service we had a baptism. They said it was going to be in the river. So I thought, “cool, a nice baptism in a cool tropical river.” It turned out to be a damned up river where everyone washes their clothes, and as best I could tell, where the sewer run-off goes; it was disgusting. Luther prayed that God would bless the water; I prayed that he would sterilize it. It just blew my mind that this is how these people live, and they find it acceptable to swim in such filth. It’s also revolting that an American company, that could easily afford to provide clean running water for it’s employees and proper sanitation, doesn’t. There’s no way they’d expect an American employee to live this way, and what’s the difference between an American and Liberian? I’d pay $10 more for a tire if I knew these people would be living an acceptable life. In Firestone’s defense, they do provide housing, schools, and a clinic for their employees, and their employees are the fortunate 20% of Liberians who have jobs, but Firestone still falls far short.

It was cool to see the baptism and the excitement of the people there. They kept singing “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus,” which was really cool. I’m a big fan of their prolific use of old hymns. No Passion CDs or talk of the latest David Crowder album here. They have some local songs that I’m sure I’d like if I could understand them. I really like old hymns.

The night before, at a party, I met a girl who’s boyfriend surfed. So after church I met up with them at Al Jehazi beach. Apparently, this is the beach to surf at. I met four other surfers there. The waves were pretty big, and I didn’t get up, which sucked, but it was still cool meeting other surfers. I’m hoping to surf with them more. In the pictures to the right you can see Sam catching a nice ride.

Saturday I went surfing at Thinker’s Village beach. In this picture, you can see me seconds before getting nailed.

In other news, I obtained by residency permit on Monday. I’m now able to live here for a year. I received a TRC ID card. Now I’m all official. And my first Ecobank checkbook arrived. At first, I wasn’t too impressed; the checks are just stapled together. But then I noticed that they do have holograms, so now I’m impressed. My Wachovia checks don’t have holograms.

This is a picture of the TRC public hearings in the Centennial Pavilion in downtown Monrovia just so you guys can get an idea of what they look like. This is the building where Liberians inaugurate their presidents.

John

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Last week Fully and I were scheduled to appear on UNMIL radio to talk about the TRC’s website. We were supposed to be at the studio at 3:00. I thought we should leave at 2:00 to get there, but Fully and Richmond Anderson (head of TRC Media and Outreach) thought we’d be ok to leave at 2:30. Of course we ended up leaving late.

We get out on Tubman Blvd and traffic is stopped. They’re repaving the road, a much needed improvement. Tubman is littered with potholes and craters. Some caused by the war, some caused by disrepair. So it’s a good thing they’re repaving the road, but they happened to shut down the road right in front of the TRC in the direction we want to be going. For those of you familiar with Atlanta, this is like shutting down all of North bound 75/85, and all the traffic diverting to Northside Dr. Obviously it’s not going to work.

So after sitting in traffic for 20 minutes going nowhere we headed back to the TRC. This took another 20 minutes. So at 3:40 we called in to give our interview. You can listen to the interview here: UNMIL radio spot 2/1/2008. I feel a little critical of myself, that I didn’t hit all the points I had on my list, and I wasn’t quite as elegant as I had hoped to be, but I guess for just running back to the office after sweating in a car with no AC that’s not moving for 45 minutes, it’s not half bad.

I’ve been told that we’re going to reschedule for next week. We’ll see if that goes any smoother than this time.

John

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