Small Thoughts 27: Côte d'Ivoire

Apologies for forgetting about posting this, the last Africa edition of the most essential Small Thoughts series, after writing about Côte d'Ivoire. Liberia Small Thoughts have been scattered through the posts as cultural notes. Enjoy!

Taxis: Inch'allah, Le Bonheur, Beau Merci, Le Pardon, Dieu Merci, Tout Est Possible, Dieu Est Dieu, La Patience, Bonne Chance, Un Peu Un Peu, General, I Remember, Prend Courage, Chacun Sa Chance, Tous Ensemble, Lass Vegass, J'aime Ma Mère,

Man, I am getting exceptionally talented at sitting on my butt for hours and hours and hours on various forms of transportation.

People drive on the right side here. Whaaattt? I didn't notice until my airport shuttle went counterclockwise around a roundabout then I was probably as confused as I was when I got to Southern Africa to see traffic going on the left. The things you get used to...

Lizards doing push-ups is probably my new favorite thing that animals do.

I just got greeted with a hearty "Bonsoir!" (Good evening!). It's 3 pm. I mean, there is a heavy cloud of pollution partially blocking the sunlight, but come on.

The West African French accent sounds strangely like the Canadian French accent for vowel sounds, but with a Spanish R.

I love the different sounds people use to call attention all over the world. Here, there's a little of the hissing like in Mozambique, but mostly people make a kissing noise.

There are women here in Abidjan carrying trays of bread on their heads, but the coolest thing is that they're all in this huge bag that they fluff up with air and then tie off, creating a tall bubble above the loaves.

Seen on a tshirt copying the Red Bull logo, but with upside down bulls: Dead Bull. Gives you mince.

Bus time play by play:
On this bus across Côte d'Ivoire, I have the good fortune to have been assigned a middle seat. I have the even better fortune to have been reduced to half a middle seat, as the window seat lady's butt is taking up half of mine. Yayyyy...
It has taken us at least an hour to actually get out of the city.
Now they're playing music videos on the tv up front. Man, Ivoiriens really like big butts shaking all they've got. Pretty much every video is butt-centric.
A guy handed out shrimp candies to everyone, and is now doing a combination preaching and trying to sell some kind of medication in the aisle. Is he a passenger, or has he just hopped on to try to sell stuff?
An hour and a half later, Mr. Snake Oil is still preaching and selling. Ughhh. Sit down.
Now we've stopped for a pee break and are waiting for a long time, then people are saying that one of the passengers is still outside and is sick. He just stumbled up into the bus and collapsed into a chair. What is happening?
Squishing up against Ms. Booty is actually not that bad, considering her side butt is giving me a bit of an armrest.
We're in the home stretch and had to stop for like half an hour because a truck carrying enormous logs has perhaps crashed but definitely blocked the whole road with spilled trees.

It seems to be quite the fashion trend here for men to wear those plastic jelly sandals I wore in elementary school.

Overheard at the taxi rank while waiting for my taxi to fill, 2 guys looking at me: "Elle est chinoise." "She's Chinese." Umm not quite, but good try.

Ok this makes the second guy to come up and tell me I'm Chinese. What's the deal?

12 February 2017: Monrovia, and leaving Africa :(

                Here’s a funny Liberian quirk before I get started: In the weekly markets held in town, and sometimes just on the street, I would hear an overblown, crackly noise coming from some kind of bullhorn or speaker. It said, “Money tear tear, tear tear money, money money tear teeeearrrrr!” Now what in the world is tear tear money? Turns out that Liberians are very picky about their bills. It doesn’t matter how old, floppy, and brown a bill is, but If it’s torn more than just a tiny bit, no one will accept it. This torn bill is now known as tear tear money. Sometimes, my friends would try to hide tear tear money in between stacks of nice bills when paying for something, but people would more than likely find it as they inspected the cash. Since the tear tear money isn’t usable, there are people who collect it and bring it to a bank to exchange it for nice new money. When you bring, say, a 100 LD bill to a tear tear money guy, he’ll give you 50 LD for it. So you get half your money, but at least it’s actually useable. If you were so inclined, you could also bring your tear tear money to a bank to exchange it (for free, I think). The problem is that lots of people live very far away from these banks, so it would cost them much more in transport fees than they would get back for exchanging their tear tear money. So one guy collects the tear tear money, brings it to a bank, and ultimately earns half the value in profit. Not bad!

                Back to the story at hand. When we last left our hero, she was learning all about gardening in Liberia at the PC training facility, Doe Palace. After days of gardening, hanging out at Kem’s bar, and wheelbarrow shopping (digging through used clothes that people push around town in wheelbarrows), it was time to go to the capital, Monrovia, for my impending flight home (!). I got a car with Michael, another PCV, for the short drive into Monrovia, and I got dropped off at the PC office. As a former PCV myself, albeit in a different country, they were nice enough to let me hang out in the volunteer lounge until my host Cori was finished with work. I mentioned Cori in the Toweh Town post when I first met her. She’s the OBGYN doctor working as a Global Health volunteer. She normally lives just outside of Monrovia and works in the hospital there, but for that month she would be in Monrovia. So at the PC office, I entertained myself with the wifi and took half a nap while I waited for her to get back from the hospital. She called me and I met her at the apartment where she would be staying for the month, which was her counterpart’s apartment a few blocks from the PC office. The three of us, that being Cori, her counterpart, and I, went to this great restaurant and expat hangout Lila Brown’s, owned by some really cool Lebanese guys, for a delicious dinner.

Walking back, I was able to have a great conversation with Cori’s counterpart about the whole Ebola situation. She is an American who was lived in Liberia for a long time now working as an OBGYN. She was telling me just how awful the epidemic was, that so many healthcare workers were dying trying to help those infected with Ebola, including one of her own residents. It has really left the country short of qualified healthcare workers. Lots of international NGOs came in to try to help, others evacuated, and she said it was amazing to see the way some of the dedicated doctors and other staff members did all they could to help those affected.

                The next day, while the doctors were out working, I entertained myself by walking across town to the Waterside market. It was a mass of rows and rows of stalls and stands. There was everything you could ever want or need: lappa (cloths) galore, shoes, clothes, meat, vegetables, chocolate and pink solid milk popsicle things (flavored solid milks are a luxury only found in the capital), wheelbarrows full of old clothes and accessories, bootleg DVDs, and on and on and on. I was sent on a mission to find butter pears (avocados), but after asking around, I learned that they weren’t in season. They grow in the wet season, and it was decidedly still dry season at the moment. Oh well. Then I walked back to the apartment, remarking the insane number of UN and different NGO SUVs everywhere. Lesotho never had nearly this many organizations! Monrovia is on the coast, so it was even more humid than normal. To stave off dehydration, I downed several bagged waters, and I got some ice cream and enjoyed the AC at an ice cream shop. Back at the apartment, Cori had a few people over for a dinner she prepared of chicken, rice, beans, guacamole, and plantain chips (which are delicious and are sold everywhere on the street in little bags). Dinner party #1 was a success.

Waterside wheelbarrow shopping

Nice-cream

                I was due to fly out the following day. I prepared my stuff, packed up, and spent the rest of my Liberian Dollars on some snacks. I got a private car (and probably paid way too much for it) to the airport. Turns out that the current (electricity) was out at the airport. This would normally not be an issue, but my flight was at night, so they needed the runway lights in order to take off. So the flight was cancelled. Normally, I’d be halfway panicking, but I was surprisingly relaxed. TIA, I thought. When has anything ever gone perfectly according to plan around here? You’ve just got to go with the flow sometimes. I was trying to leave, but Mother Africa was holding on to me as long as she possibly could. I must have very nicely asked for help from the seemingly idle Brussels Airlines employees five times before someone actually sat down to help rebook me. At first, I was just told that the flight was cancelled. Nothing more. I had to push to ask for other options like rebooking me on a later flight. The Brussels Airlines lady said that the Friday flight was already full (this was Wednesday), but she could put me on the wait list. She could either do that or book me for an open spot on the Sunday flight. She gave me a number to call the next day so I could check up on the waitlist status. Back to Monrovia for me for at least two more, but probably four more days. I called Cori and explained that I was coming back, and she was really nice about letting me stay a few more days at her place. Thanks, girl!

                Then back at the apartment, I called my Mom on Whatsapp and that saint of a woman called United for me to help me get booked on the Sunday flight. So I wouldn’t have to trek across town to speak to another incompetent or indifferent airline employee. Thanks, Mom. You’re actually the best. So I had a new plan for a (daylight time) flight in a few days. My excitement for seeing America again would have to wait just a liiiitle bit longer.

                The next few days, I mainly hung around the neighborhood containing the PC office and the apartment. Just outside of the apartment complex was the beach, so one day I walked wayyy up and down the beach, enjoying being able to touch the ocean again. That’s always so great. There was also an unexpected goodbye party for another Liberia PCV Eric who would be leaving, so a bunch of people came into Monrovia for that. Turns out that Eric would be flying out the same day I was. We all had dinner at a fancy restaurant, the Royal, where we ate outside on the rooftop. It was so fun to eat awesome food and hang out with all my new PC Liberia friends. The day before Eric and I left, Saturday night, a bunch of PCVs and other expats met up at Lila Brown’s for a fun night of Mexican food, music, and saying goodbye.

Michael and me

Thumbs up for going to the airport...?

Me, Trey, and Cori

A whole bunch of people who came to see Eric off

                Since the PC Liberia country director and another high-up staff member both served in Lesotho during their PC services, and both immediately took a liking to me for that very reason, they let me ride in the PC car that was taking Eric to the airport. Sweet, I wouldn’t have to fight with another taxi driver and get robbed of all my money. Eric said that he planned to immediately come back to Liberia to work with an NGO (and he has since done that! Congrats, man.). The PC driver dropped us both off at the airport where we went in our respective lines. I was still expecting something to go wrong the whole time I was waiting in the airport, but lo and behold, I boarded the plane and we took off. It was three loooong flights later and I finally made it back to Dallas! Yayyy!

                Well, dear readers, I guess that marks the end of my two and a half year adventure in Africa. I’ll make another post reflecting on the whole thing, and I’ll update y’all on how I’m doing adjusting back to the whole America thing. Until then!

Mountain biking in Lesotho

Outside magazine knows what's up.

A cool slideshow of some guys mountain biking through Lesotho:
https://www.outsideonline.com/2193731/lesotho-secret-mountain-bike-paradise#slide-1

5 February 2017: Liberia- Kakata

Garden Angels

It was my last day in Milea’s home sweet home of Duoplay. It also happened to be a day that Milea’s school’s teachers decided to have a party. Milea and I sat on the front porch of the principal’s house talking with the other teachers, and I made a small speech thanking them for their hospitality and remarking upon my enjoyment of spending a good amount of time in their little town. There was a small black goat tied up out front that we were admiring for its potential in the very near future to feed us all. Soon it was time for the cooking. The goat was led around back to fulfill its potential, and back there some women were already boiling cassava and pounding it into GB (the play dough starchy mass we all know and love). After Milea and I got our turns to pound the GB, we went around front to where people were already enjoying some fresh palm wine. Shortly, the goat soup was ready, and we all heartily ate it. Balls of GB were scooped up and dipped in the soup, and entire hands went slurpily into mouths to savor each last delectable drop. After only the weird tripe bits were left in the pot and Milea and I were sufficiently overstuffed, we thanked the hosts and excused ourselves from the feast, leaving the rest of the guests, full of goat and palm wine, to chat amongst themselves into the night.

Getting the double-pump on

                Since the PC Liberia #1 and #2 staff members had both served their own Peace Corps services in Lesotho as I had, they were very happy to invite me to participate in a gardening training happening in Kakata, a city near the capital. PC Liberia has a permanent training facility there in Kakata which used to be the vacation home of former president Samuel Doe. Doe Palace, as it is known, was donated to the Peace Corps, and they now use it for both pre-service training and other trainings through the year. I had heard lots about Doe Palace from the other volunteers. Somehow I assumed it was spelled “Dough Palace,” and pictured a fabulous castle made of fluffy bread and other baked goods. Sadly, it was just a few normal buildings, but it was a really nice place in any case

                Since I was invited to the gardening training but not formally allowed to sleep at Doe Palace (it has dorms as well), the first night I stayed with Caitlin, who is a PCV whose permanent site is in Kakata. It was almost past dark, which is when the PCVs who were sleeping at Doe were supposed to be in for the night. Milea and Trey, two such PCVs, were kind enough to walk me to Caitlin’s house so I didn’t get lost. We were hustling down the street, trying not to be late for curfew, with Milea leading the pack and Trey behind her. At one point, Trey lost his flip flop (“slipper” in Liberian English), and since I was behind him, I thought I’d just scoop it up as I walked past it so we wouldn’t lose any time. Now, dear reader: remember when you were but a wee lass or laddie and you were taking baseball or softball practice for the first time, and your coach told you to yell “mine” or some similar exclamation upon the launching of a fly ball headed in your direction?  Well, apparently, the same should be taught with fallen flip flops, because as soon as I bent down to scoop up the shoe, so did Trey. WHAM! My skull made clean contact with his glasses, which in turn made clean contact with his eye. The adrenaline must have started pumping, because we were both fine in the moment, but soon enough I noticed a trickle of blood coming from his eyebrow. He didn’t believe me until he put his hand up to his eye and discovered the bloody mess that had appeared on his face. For the rest of training, his eye was pretty much swollen shut, and the bruise didn’t go away for another week or so. I’m still really sorry, brother. He still won’t forgive me for breaking his glasses or for the black eye, but I think in the end we evened the score.

                The rest of training, I sat in on sessions about gardening. Wow, I never knew what I never knew about gardening in a place that is basically dry half the year and monsooning the other half. It was fascinating. We had some sessions indoors to teach us the basic theories, then we worked outside to actually make a garden. I learned such techniques as the double dig, making berms, and the “pop pop” technique of chipping dirt away with a hoe. It was also really cool to get to talk to more Liberia PCVs who were attending the training. What a swell bunch of people, I tell ya.

Next post: I go to Monrovia in the hopes of leaving for America, but Africa has other plans.

The garden layout

African garden expert Peter telling us what's what

Watering

Pop pop!

Sweaty, yet determined: a summary of Milea's PC experience

Who needs Rosie the Riveter when you've got Milea the Gardener?

Lesotho's third election in three years...

I remember just before I got to Lesotho, there was an attempted military coup. Then, a vote of no confidence was called and we went through the madness of an election. Now, the fragile coalition government has failed yet again and they're having another one. Ahchh...

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-40111162