Evenings in Liberia

22:30 Zwedru~

Saturday means no school, but it doesn't mean no work. Not for Liberians, anyway. This is the day everyone works to prepare for Sunday. Kids are helping with the laundry and cooking, women are preparing Saturday's dish (which is a smaller meal than any other day) and Sunday's feast. Men are, well, they are doing whatever they need to do for the day. I know that doesn't say much, but I spent the day reading and visiting with whomever stopped by. Joe thought I should take the day to rest after the busy week and the upcoming church service.

Since there isn't anything big to discuss today, I thought I'd take the time to talk about the evenings in Zwedru. As I mentioned earlier, there is no central power source in Liberia. This means nightlife in Liberia isn't exactly like the nightlife in America. People don't go clubbing or bar-hopping in Zwedru. There is some of that in Monrovia, and a little bit in Ganta, though.

Instead, after the Sun sets and the families have eaten, people will gather outside the house. At the pastor's house, we have had visitors every night. They all want to meet the American and talk to Joe. The broad topic never changes - they all want to hear about American life - but the specifics do nightly. Some nights we'll talk about the churches in America while other nights we discuss American sports. Education will even pop up occasionally. Joe typically does most of the talking since he can speak both Krahn and Liberian English. Whenever I talk, they usually have no idea what I am saying and Joe translates or I have to repeat myself in various forms before my point is made. This hasn't been the case lately, as I have started to pick up various words that are key to making my point.

The same thing happens, no matter who is speaking. Our guests will listen in awe and laugh at the strange customs of America, from mowing the lawn to paying monthly for cell phone use. They are curious about why we do some of the things we do, such as having private bedrooms for each individual child instead of having one for all the boys and another for the girls. At the same time, however, each one has a dream of seeing America someday.

One young man, Nyossoa (pronounced Kneo-Swah), has been the most curious - and entertaining - of all our visitors. He is the youngest brother of Pastor Dweh and attends Nixon School. He'll come at night to visit with the pastor's eldest son, Aaron, and then the two will join our group to hear our stories.

Each time he comes, you have no idea what he'll ask. Once he wanted to know about our government. Another time, he wants to know about soccer and wrestling (I crushed his heart when I told him the WWE wasn't real). And even other nights he would come in just to hear about the daily life of a kid his age. Each time, though, we both end the evening with a greater understanding - and appreciation - of each other's culture.

I was made sure to learn his full name, since he wanted to have everyone in America know his name before his arrival, and impending rise to fame, which gave me an insight into family structure in Liberia. His name is Rufus Dweh Nyossoa Bael (I'm unsure of the spelling of the last name). Rufus is the given name with Dweh the family name. Nyossoa is the name he was christened with (not really christened in our traditional sense but the closest description I can give to what this name represents). Bael is the name of an old family member, generations back. Each name is important to him, but he goes by Nyossoa among family and friends, with Rufus being the name he uses for government purposes; school, census, voting, etc.

The boys are big soccer fans, both being fans of F.C. Barcelona in the Spanish league and Arsenal in the British league, and couldn't understand why Americans weren't more into the sport. I tried to explain American football to them, especially college football, but I don't think I was as successful as I had hoped. I did make sure to impart on them my love of the University of Oklahoma and its football program, and I think they really understood that after a while (and a few days wearing various OU paraphernalia). Listening to Nyossoa try to pronounce Oklahoma was a riot, however. Each time, he tried to add an "H" to the beginning and couldn't get through half of the word without stopping. After a while, he just stopped and said no Liberian who lives in Oklahoma admit to it because it's too hard to pronounce. When I come next time, I should just say I'm from New York.

Tonight, as I am nearing the end of my time in Zwedru, I decided to give a small token of my appreciation to Nyossoa's company and humor. I gave him one of my OU t-shirts (clean, of course). Not only was he grateful to receive the shirt, but it gave him enough incentive to visit the state so he could learn more about it, and maybe figure out how to pronounce it.