When the clouds come rolling in...

Last week I traveled to Sanniquellie for two reasons. One was to conduct a workshop for the health workers on using data for making decisions. The other reason was to explore why contraceptive use is very low in Nimba County. I will write about those two parts later, I have to talk about the drive to Sanniquellie.

The better part of the road - with few potholes and washed away at its seams

I like driving up country, or as the Liberians call it, "the bush". The drive from Monrovia to Sanniquellie is quite the feat, because of the road. I haven't been to Sanniquellie in a month, so I wasn't aware of the condition of roads. The terrain changes rapidly in the rainy season, because it doesn't just rain here. The rain in Liberia is unlike any other. It is powerful enough to wash away everything in its path. To give you an idea, Liberia received the third largest rainfall in the world, for its land area. Monrovia is the city with the highest rainfall in the world. Since the rainy season started a month ago, I wasn't quite sure what lay ahead in front of us. Well, not much lay ahead. The dirt road that has washed away in most areas leaving huge potholes the size of craters, and rocks. Part of the road is paved. the part from Monrovia to Gbarnga is not bad, the part from Gbarnga to Ganta is the worst, and from Ganta to Sanniquellie is just track. Half of our journey is spent clinging on to our dear lives on the hand railing in our Land Cruiser. I do not recommend anyone with a bad back doing this trip.

However, not all is bad. The scenery is beautiful. That's what happens when you drive through the last remaining rain forest in West Africa. Lush tropical forest lines either sides of the road. Huge rubber trees stand majestically among the underbrush. The Liberian rain forest is also the world's only known habitat for pygmy hippos. I haven't seen one in the wild so far, because they are rare, shy, and highly endangered.

Since it is the rainy season, and these are no ordinary rains, you always are caught in a downpour. The sight of a rain storm rolling in always enthralls me. The colors - green luscious forest, red dirt road, the blue sky, and black clouds rolling in with immense speed - is quite the sight to see. Although I am no professional photographer, I tried to capture some of the intense beauty with my simple yet trusty Canon Powershot.

The clouds roll in...

What you see on the right is a small hamlet, three huts bordered by plantain and coconut trees. I asked our driver to stop in the middle of the track so I can marvel at the beauty of nature. I started taking pictures and a man came out of one of the huts to see what we were doing. After some more picture taking, we resumed our bumpy journey.

The dark sky and darker road

As we pass through more forest and start driving through the heavy downpour, we are greeted with various sounds from the forest, people running to their huts to avoid the rain, and, my most favorite of all, the smell of  earth when it receives rain. After about an hour of driving, we finally get past the rain, and start watching for the huge puddles on the road. It is a good thing we have the trust Land Cruiser, you cannot do this drive with many SUVs.

One of the things you have to be cautious of this rain is the huge puddles that form in the road. It is difficult to  avoid and gauge the depth of these puddles, which leads to many accidents. These are no ordinary puddles, they can swallow half of your car easily. We witnessed one such accident. A semi-truck that got stuck in one such puddle because it was too deep. The semi kinda nosedived in to one puddle while avoiding another puddle. Luckily there were no casualties, just a semi stuck on the road. This does not bode well for us, because you cannot take a diversion.

Accident!

Now, you may wonder why there is a big semi in the middle of the rain forest? It is because one of the largest iron ore mines in Africa is located near the Liberia-Guinea border, in a town called Yekepa. You have to pass through the rain forest to reach Yekepa. Arcelor Mittal has a huge mining operation going on in Yekepa, and this particular truck was delivering some supplies to the mine.

We got out of our SUV, walked around to see if there is any clearing on the side of the road and decided to take a chance with off-roading. There is no way we are staying stuck in the forest behind this semi, while it is getting dark. Look at my boss and our driver surveying the terrain.

My boss and driver surveying the terrain before deciding if we can off-road

My boss drove Land Cruisers in the rain forests of Cameroon 30 years ago, while volunteering as a physician in the jungles of Cameroon and Congo. He has worked extensively in Africa and he has a great knowledge of the terrain. With his and our trusty driver's skills, we were able to get out of this road block. Look at our intern waiting patiently and watching the scene.

Heather waits patiently while enjoying the scenery

That's our trusty Land Cruiser, by the way. Almost all international donors and NGOs working in Liberia have white vehicles. The rhino horn looking thing in front of the car is for our satellite phone, if we get stuck in the jungle and need the American government to come get us :) After some maneuvering, we were able to get on the road and resume our journey. We got out to see the accident from the front and it looked like this...

The accident from the front

Well, that crash could have easily been us. But we have skilled drivers, so I rarely get worried about driving through the rain forest. Just look at that lush greenery on either sides of the road. Stunning!

We go on with our journey and arrived at Sanniquellie safely. Finished work in two days and came back to Monrovia. I bought a big bag of palm nuts for Isaiah on the way back home. He is one happy bird!

War stories

Last week the international court in Hague delivered a guilty verdict in the Charles Taylor trial. It was a somber mood in the office all day. Like most days a few of us gathered around the dining table in our kitchen to eat lunch and chatter. However, April 26 was not like any other day. Almost every Liberian who works in our office has been through the civil war in one way or another. One of my colleagues started discussing the verdict and the conversation snow balled. Then came the war stories. Oh the stories!!

There are countless stories from Liberian civil war. Almost everyone you meet on the street has a story about their experience during the war. However, you don't really hear them unless you ask. And if you are like me, you do not ask strangers to speak about their suffering - past or present - unless they initiate such conversation. That is probably why I do not have as many stories as reporters or researchers. But I am quick to make friends with co-workers. Even though most of my Liberian co-workers left at the onset of war, there are a few who didn't leave until late, or didn't leave at all. I do not ask their experiences during the war because I think it is rude to be inquisitive about suffering. While having lunch yesterday, two of my Liberian colleagues started talking to each other about their experiences during the war that made my jaw drop. I don't usually like to talk about suffering, but two of these stories demonstrate determination of women in the face of adversity. Allow me to explain without going in to many details, in order to protect privacy.

One of my colleagues was 9 years old when the war started in the last week of 1989. Her father was afraid for his six daughters because the rebels were taking girls and women away in forced concubinage. The rebels usually demanded food and women. Her father hid his daughters whenever rebels were in town. He gave away most of his belongings, including his livelihood (a car - he drove a taxi), in order to save his daughters from the rebels. Every time a rebel group came knocking he would give away something to divert their attention from his children. Like most poor Liberians, he quickly ran out of things to give to placate the rebels. That's when he decided to send his daughters away. He split them in to two groups, so at least few would survive. He took one group, his wife took the other group. My colleague happened to be in the group with her mother. They traveled through the rain forest and military checkpoints, fleeing the rebels, going from one town to another, Guinea being their final destination. My colleague's sister (one of the six daughters) was a new mother with a 6 month old child. They were carrying the infant along with them. At one of the checkpoints, while waiting clearance, gun fire erupts and everyone is displaced running for life. In this melee, my colleague who is carrying the infant is separated from her mother and sister. Not knowing what to do, she runs with another group of people fleeing the gun fire while carrying the infant. My colleague was 10 years old at this time and even though she did not know what motherhood means, she knew how to take care of an infant. However, she didn't have anything to feed the baby. After fleeing the commotion, she joins another group of refugees and hides in the jungle. The group is hiding quietly so the rebels won't catch them and that's when the baby starts crying. In the words of my colleague, she has no milk in her breasts to feed the baby. That's when one of the women in the group came over and put her breast in the infant's mouth so he would stop crying. To quote my colleague directly "she put her titty in my nephew's mouth". She did this so the baby would be quiet and they would go unnoticed. Imagine a 10 year old fearing for life while another woman is breast feeding her nephew. I cannot even come close to imagining her situation.

After hiding in the bush (Liberian word for forest) for many hours and realizing the rebels left, the group emerges and starts looking for others who ran in different directions. My colleague was able to find her mother, but they never found her sister (mother of the infant). The two of them and the infant traveled for many days, hiding in the jungle at times to escape from rebels, and finally reached Guinea. All this while the infant was being breast fed by other women who were fleeing along with them. When they finally crossed the border in to Guinea, the UN sent a a truck to transport Liberian refugees from the border to refugee camps inside Guinea. However, most of the refugees, including my colleague, were too weak to be transported. That's when the UN set up tents right near the border to accommodate refugees.

I never asked what happened to the rest of her family.

Orphaned children during the Liiberian civil war. Picture courtesy of the Daily Beast

The second story involves another colleague's friend. Although my colleague left at the very beginning of the war, her friend was not lucky to do so. The story will be gruesome to many of my friends who read my blog, so I will refrain from details. But I will say this: women like her deserve a special place in heaven for saving young girls from being raped and killed by rebels. How many women you know will offer their body to rebels in exchange for the life of a few young girls? It is amazing to listen what ordinary citizens can do when confronted with brutality.

Again, I never asked what happened to my colleague's friend and the girls she saved on that particular day. Some questions should be left unasked.

I feel it is the women and children that suffer the most during (and after) war. I think if any war mongers see the suffering encountered by women and children there will never be a war in this world. But then, it means war mongers are capable of rational thinking and emotions. We all know that is far from truth. I salute women everywhere who are courageous and kind, who can rule nations and nurture families and who are infinitely stronger than men in many situations.

In spite of all the atrocities, Charles Taylor still enjoys a following among some Liberians. In fact, some locals say he will be elected next President if he is freed from prison. It makes one wonder how someone like him can still enjoy support. Many unemployed former child soldiers still hold Charles Taylor in high regard. They call him "Papay" or "Papa Ghankay". Ghankay was a name Taylor adopted during the war in order to appeal to the indigenous tribes. Most of these ex-combatants were orphans who were recruited by Taylor's faction during the war. They see him as a father figure for giving them food to eat and a gun to fight.  It is normal human tendency to revere the hand that feeds you when you are starving.

Liberians holding a rally in support of Charles Taylor. Pic courtsey of GlobalPost

The civil war was a consequence of various complex factors. It is not possible to explain those factors in one blog post. There have been plenty of articles and books written on the civil war, but many of them do not look at the Liberian perspective. More often than not it is some western journalist or author writing about the war from their own perspective. One book that I read which explains the complex factors in detail is The Mask of Anarchy. I encourage my friends and readers to read it.

There is a great poem by Percy Bysshe Shelly titled The Masque of Anarchy that is worth quoting here. The poem was written in 1819 on the occasion of the Peterloo Massacre at Manchester, but it is quite relevant in the Liberian civil war context. I came across this poem while reading The Mask of Anarchy, the book I mentioned earlier. I will only quote the last stanza because it is the most relevant here.

"Rise like Lions after slumber

In unvanquishable number -

Shake your chains to earth like dew

Which in sleep had fallen on you -

Ye are many - they are few."

Humankind eventually rises against oppression. That hope is what keeps us alive.

Trips to the "bush" and cow meat soup

You cannot rebuild a health system sitting at the central ministry in the capital (Monrovia), you gotta travel out and see what's going on in the interior. In my quest to explore the state of affairs in the counties and villages, I travel often. One such trip was to Lofa County. The capital of Lofa is Voinjama, a small town quite far from Monrovia. Located only a few minutes from the Liberia-Guinea border, Voinjama is a small but busy town in the middle of the jungle. It took us 8 hours to get there, mainly because of bad road conditions... and that's during the dry season. It takes longer once the rainy season starts. Sometimes we stop in one of the towns on the way, stay overnight, and continue the next day. The road is paved only till Gbarnga (3 hours north west of Monrovia), and then it is dirt road. The local slang for all villages is "bush". Locals say "bah! you gone to the bush?". "Bah" is a term of endearment, meaning friend. Liberian English is a language of its own, with varying dialects and pronunciation. I have to switch gears between the drivers, my staff, and the housekeeper. One of my staff even speaks a mixture of English and Mano (a local language), making it difficult for me to understand what he is saying. But, I have gotten better at it. I now understand 75% of what he says, it used to be 20%.

The paved road is nothing to talk about, just an old road that is ridden with pot holes. I wonder if some of the potholes are from the heavy rains or remnants of bombings during the civil war. I do not recommend anyone with back problems travel on these roads, you will need spinal surgery after a few trips. It is interesting to watch our drivers maneuver through these huge pot holes... most of the times we end up off-roading while I cling on to my dear life by holding on to the railing in our Land Cruiser. I pity all our vehicles, they take such beating when we go to the bush. The dirt road, on the other hand, is a beauty. The soil in Liberia is very fertile with a red hue, almost rust-like. Our white vehicles return looking rust-colored after every trip. It is quite beautiful driving on a red dirt road surrounded by thick green jungle interrupted by rivers and streams with the occasional goat or monkey jumping on to the road... it almost looks like a painting.

The red dirt road to Voinjama

The soil is so fertile that villagers have to burn the brush so it doesn't grow back within days. Cutting the brush won't do, you gotta burn in to the ground. Even then, new sprouts arise within days. A mixture of perfect tropical weather for vegetation, heavy rains, and fertile soil makes Liberia a heaven for plan growth. Unfortunately, this natural resource has not been  harvested to grow food for the population. Prior to the war, Liberia used to export rice, now 85% of food is imported. Various international organizations are helping rebuild the agriculture infrastructure.

Before going on one of my trips to the bush I was informed of a restaurant in Gbarnga by fellow expats. Even my drivers sung high praises of this restaurant. I wanted to check it out and we stopped for lunch. They had only one dish that day - cow meat soup. That's how it is in the bush, people serve what they get on that particular day. Some days it is nothing. I always carry Clif bars with me because you never know if you will get food in the bush. Shout out to my pal Lissner who taught me the wonders of Clif bars. Even though he tried to get me to like the white chocolate macadamia flavor, I prefer the dark chocolate flavor. Anyway, I digress.

My staff and I sit down and order the only option we have. By this time, after two months of living in Liberia, I have come to accept the fact that it is normal to find mystery meat in your food. Liberians do not understand the concept of cooking or cuisine, they dump everything they can lay their hands on in a pot and cook it. As I talked in my previous posts, expect to find anything from feet, fat, and organs to meat, skin, and other unidentifiable parts of an animal. When in Rome...

We sit down and wait for our cow meat soup. The waitress assured me it is cow meat. That doesn't mean anything in Liberia. You always get a melange of animals regardless of what they tell you. So, here comes this cow meat soup. What Liberians call soup is actually stew. Looks like chunks of meat+fat floating in an oily stew. Fine, it is not any different from other stuff I've eaten. Remember my post about Lowise's restaurant and palm butter? Well, that was one of the many instances.

Cow meat soup - meat and other stuff swimming in oil

I dig in to my oily stew, scoop out a spoonful on the plate of rice that comes with the stew (everything comes with rice or fufu). Halfway through my meal I notice strands of short thick hair. Eh, this is nothing. At least it is not a dead roach. I pick the hair out of my food and continue eating while pondering where the hair came from. Then I receive the answer to my pondering. In the second spoonful, I notice a chunk of cow hair sticking to the skin. Ah, so this is not just cow meat soup, it is cow hair soup as well. The culprit is a piece of cow skin with a tuft of hair still attached to it. I look at it and wonder which part of the cow it came from? Is it the hump, the tail, leg, which part? Should I call it leather instead of skin because it has been cooked to death? Looking at the length of the hair, it could be the skin from a cow's tail or back. I am posting a picture of a smaller chunk of hair, because even I couldn't stomach the idea of taking a picture of the larger tuft of hair (yes, there were more than one chunks of hair). Notice the lone strand of hair on the side and a small tuft of hair sticking to a piece of skin, next to the rice.

Hair sticking to cow skin, a lone strand of cow hair, and a burnt matchstick - all in one spoonful

Then there was a burnt matchstick in my food. Oh well, at least I didn't get coal. I take out the piece of skin/leather with hair, the matchstick, and continue eating my soup. I am not going to stop a little tuft of cow hair and burnt match ruin my lunch. I may have eaten some strands of hair here and there, but my stomach can easily digest that. Hell, it has digested worse things, what's a little hair going to do? Three of us finish eating, pay our bill, and I left the tuft of cow hair on my plate. Nary a word from my staff. They noticed the chunk of hair, but it didn't bother them. I assumed from their reaction (or absence thereof) it is common to have animal hair in your food. Once again, when in Rome...

We finish lunch, continue on our journey to Voinjama with bellies filled with cow meat and hair soup. Once in Voinjama, I had the best food I've had since I moved to Liberia. I discovered the United Nations Pakistani battalion in Voinjama. They let outsiders eat in their "officers' canteen". I had the most amazing Pakistani/ Indian food prepared by Pakistani chefs. Chicken jalfrezi, lamb korma, naan, dal, vegetable pulav, the list goes on. More about them in the next post.