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!
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