Departure

+18:00 Monrovia~

My time in Africa is nearing the end. But even the efforts to return to America was filled with a new outlook on life.

The concept of scheduling and living with plans is virtually lost for most Liberians. There are basic schedules; keeping track of the school year, knowing when Christmastime is approaching, and when to plant/harvest crops. But for the most part there is no need to keep a schedule. I learned this on our way back to Monrovia.

On Monday morning, Joe went to the "parking," a central location for taxis and other transportation services, to find a car bound for Monrovia. After waiting two hours, he returned to the Pastor's house empty-handed. He said there was only one car going to Monrovia and it already had people in it. We waited throughout the day for the car, but as the sun stretched over the African sky, no car was willing to take the trip. Instead of spending my day in a car on my first leg home, I sat outside on the porch reading.

This was a good exercise in patience, because most Americans do not have it. I will admit it was frustrating, and a bit worrisome, not knowing if I was going to make it to Monrovia in time to confirm my flight and return home. But as the day wore on, and as Joe made arrangements for my flight confirmation, my anxiety diminished and I began to take life in stride.

Tuesday morning I was awoken to the sound of a car running outside as we had a car and were packing up for the long road home. This time the car appeared to be well kept, running smoothly (compared to the previous cars I had been in) and ready to go. Before I took off, however, I had to start my string of goodbyes. The Dweh family, who had been gracious hosts, will always have a place in my heart. Their hospitality and their company were key factors in making me feel comfortable in a strange land. I especially will always remember the fun evening conversations we held each night.

After I had said goodbye to the Dwehs, except the pastor who was travelling with us, I nestled into what would be my seat for the next 13 hours and took one last, longing look at the town that opened my eyes to a whole new world. Saying goodbye to a family can be hard, but saying goodbye to a place that has changed my entire outlook on life is nearly impossible.

The next day brought me to the heart of Monrovia. The city was littered with street vendors. Everywhere you turned, you would find someone selling something to the masses. From knock-off paintings (I can get you a great deal on a wonderful print of a European home, only $200. It's a steal, so they say) to bars of soap, you can buy anything you need in the streets of Monrovia. You can even buy a meat for dinner that night, freshly killed (which no longer surprises me).

The city landscape is vastly different from many I have seen before. The cities are mixed between glorious buildings symbolic of the rebuilding occurring in the war-torn nation alongside bombed-out shelters. The nation's capitol building is across the street from a walled structure that once maintained some home or business but not acts as a shelter for many families. The walls are blackened by fires long extinguished and the signs of a war that nearly destroyed the oldest African republic are evident throughout. There is little joy taken from the sights of children scrounging for food or families living in gutted buildings, barely surviving beyond the day. It is a stark contrast to the quiet life in Zwedru.

But is it really surprising? American life is vastly different between the urban centers of New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, and the quieter towns of Dixon, Ill., Norman, Okla., and Fredericksburg, VA. The cities have abject poverty, run-down buildings and signs of despair throughout while the smaller towns have a quieter lifestyle. There is still the blights of society, homelessness and lower-class citizens still exist in every community in the nation. But there is a vast difference between the lifestyle and the morality of the two differing communities.

The same can be said of Zwedru and Monrovia. While both have their problems, the extreme poverty and the street vending and the signs of a life long diminished by bombs, the amplification of the devastation can be seen in the larger city.

---

It seems just yesterday I had arrived, wondering what lay before me and what had I landed

into. Now, I sit in the airport's lone terminal, waiting for my flight home.

I could never imagine longing for the quiet afternoons in Zwedru, sitting in the growing shade beside the house and visiting with whomever decided to stop by that day. I will miss my time with the Dwehs and I will miss the kids at the schools clamoring to touch my pale (now slightly darker) skin and meet the American. I'll miss the exotic, and now very familiar, food filled with flavor and spices each revealing a new insight into African life.

But, I also look forward to my return home. I will arrive on Thanksgiving and could not think of a time more appropriate to return. There is much to be thankful for in my life, and now so much more. I can say the most I am thankful for, however, is being an American. I am impressed with life in Liberia; how they can live so fully with so little. But I am thankful for having a government I can complain about that will listen to my grievances. I am thankful for having the opportunity to take a car from one city to the next, or even one state to the next, without delay or haggling over price. I am very thankful for having a home with running water. I am most thankful, however, for the ability to choose to live the life I want without worry.

The world is a lot smaller for me today, but my future could not be any larger. My eyes have been opened to things I have never seen, nor ever thought I would see. I am glad to have been given this opportunity, thankful for everyone who helped me on my way there, and look forward to taking my life to the next step, wherever - and whatever - that may be.

End of the Road

+23:00 Zwedru~

I've reached the end of my week in Zwedru. It is unfortunate my time here flew by so quickly, but I am glad to have been able to experience everything I did. This is also the first time I have celebrated my birthday away from family or friends. I knew this going into the trip, and I don't regret it, since I think this has been a wonderful gift.

Birthdays are not celebrated in Liberia. When you don't keep records to the degree Americans do, it is hard to celebrate such an occasion. There are some who keep track of birth dates and death dates, but it is not common enough. Instead, they keep track of how long they've been alive in years. When the next year comes around, they add a year to their age and move along.

So, today was a day to experience a new church. I was prepared for some aspects - the longer time in church and the heat - but others were quite new and enjoyable. The music was really amazing. Because I was there, most of the songs were in Krahn, instead of the half-English and half-Krahn song selection normally presented. Most of the music was accompanied by a single drum, with a keyboard providing help from time to time. It was all completely exotic for me, exotic and beautiful.

The service is set up in a manner quite different from any Lutheran service I have been to previously. The men sat on the left while the women were on the right, the children occupied the center. Whenever a woman entered the building, she would have her head covered. This was either from a headdress or a simple cloth to cover the head. Two people would walk through the aisles to monitor the members, making sure no one was asleep and providing water to those who needed it.

They provided a spot for me up near the front by the electronic equipment, so they could have a fan blowing on me most of the time. This was a blessing, since we were in the building for nearly 4 hours. It didn't seem like that long, however, since I spent so much time listening to the music, none of which I could compare with what I've heard in a church service before.

When we returned from church, I had what became my favorite meal in Liberia; pumpkin soup with rice. As some people know, pumpkin is my favorite fruit. When fall arrives, I will do whatever I can to indulge in anything pumpkin, from breads to lattes, soups to pies (and even the occasional muffin). It was a real treat to enjoy this meal, which came from a type of pumpkin I had never seen before.

The rest of the day was similar to previous ones; time for reading and enjoying each others' company. But when the day turned to night, I was given a great treat. Instead of turning on the generator shortly after sunset, we opted to keep the lights off a little while longer, giving me a chance to see a true night sky. When the nightfall was in full view, I could see stars only viewed from planetariums in our cities. The Milky Way galaxy's band brightly shone in full view. To add to the wonder and beauty, Venus and Jupiter were perfectly aligned in the sky. It was an amazing painting, with everything coming to life on the dark canvass.

As I mentioned earlier, my time is nearly finished here. It has been a great experience and I have learned so much. The people have gone through so much and lost so many close friends and family from war, either by death or relocation. But with all that has been lost, there is still so much in store. Their beauty has not diminished, their love of life not tempered. Everything I have seen has proven that true happiness can be found everywhere in this world. My exposure to this new land has only heightened my enjoyment here. I have never been through so much and learned so much in such a short time.

I am a bit sad to leave this town, and the great people I have come to know. But, at the same time it is good to start my journey back home. Tomorrow, we leave to Monrovia as I begin the long journey back. But not before I heard some good news from home. As a gift for me, Joe called his wife and had her look up the Oklahoma-Texas Tech football score. How great it is to hear about OU's big win while I was so far away!

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.

Over the River and Through the (Jungle)

+18:00 Zwedru~
It's hard to visit new places and new people when you are not in the best health. It's even harder when you know this is your only chance.

Today, I have a slight cold. Nothing too severe and it hasn't really bothered me that much. My left eye, however, is completely shot. I have kept my contacts in all week without taking them out. I don't have a mirror and I know my hands are not as clean as I normally would have them. Last night, however, my eye started aching to the point that I couldn't sleep and just had to take the contacts out.

This morning, however, the eye is very red and irritated. Sunlight is my enemy, which makes it hard to function with both eyes when you are outside all day. Hopefully it will go away soon. I don't want the rest of my trip to be hampered by this setback.

I did not let my eye deter our plans to visit Pyne Town today, however. It was my only opportunity to visit Sinoe County, which is a more rural and poorer county than Grand Gedeh, where I have been staying this week. I was able to see most of the trip to Pyne Town, fortunately. The road was in worse shape than the one we took last week, with deep ditches from the wet season that just ended. At times it appeared we were not going to make it through to Pyne Town because of these obstacles. There was one spot where the road was virtually washed away, with a small ditch to pass through. You could tell a number of cars and motorbikes tried to pass through with varying degrees of success.

The driver, whose car was in much better shape than the one we took to Zleh Town, decided to slow down and carefully maneuver through the small passageway. This was mildly successful as we were able to make it halfway through the trial before he wedged the little Nissan between two mud walls. At this point Pastor Dweh and Joe got out, telling me to stay in the car, and tried to push the car through. When this proved unsuccessful, I decided it was pointless for the "guest" to stay in the car and proceeded to help push the car, as well. Either my additional muscle or the less weight in the car, probably a combination of both, proved to be the trick as we were able to make it through and ride on.

The rest of the road to Pyne Town was a denser jungle than what I've been through previously. The road narrowed as we were surrounded by the jungle, with its high-rising trees and exotic wildlife, including birds of all sorts.

When we arrived in Pyne Town, I understood why Joe had mentioned it was one of the harder places for the schools to succeed. This was a small village, with few buildings apart from the homes. Where most of the people in Zwedru and Monrovia had cell phones for communication, the villagers here used word of mouth to spread word. To make matters worse for the school, the Lutheran Church of Liberia had promised the necessary materials to build the church but failed to deliver on the promise. Joe said it came from a lack of funding and a need to spend the money in other villages. Word spread fairly quickly of our arrival. By the time we had settled down in the main room of the pastor's home, the school children crowded the entrance as well as the open window. They kept creating distractions, fighting to catch a glimpse of the "white man," while we met with the teachers of a school without a school building. They had hoped to use the new church building as a school, but without the materials from the Church there is little hope for that plan to succeed. Instead, they use whatever building they can to teach the students.

It is unfortunate that money has become so scarce throughout the country that even non-profit organizations like the Lutheran Church has to resort to robbing Peter to pay Paul. You cannot fault the Church for shifting money from one area to pay off other areas when the men and women running the organization are doing nothing different than any other, including the United Nations. Instead, the churches left without resources search for other means to fund themselves. While this proves successful in cities like Zwedru, villages like Pyne Town cannot possibly function without external aid. This is why groups like the Liberian Children's Ministry proves to be a great asset. Without Joe, there would be no education for the kids in this small village, and without the help from Americans gifting to the LCM, there would be no school building in the future for Pyne Town. Of course, I'm not sure how grateful the villagers were on hearing of the gift since most of the conversation was in Krahn, leaving me to listen to Joe interpret what was said.

The rest of the trip was much like my visit to the other schools; the children all wanted to touch me or shake my hand and everyone wanted their picture taken (this time I used the small viewfinder as the sunlight filtered through it aided my eye). There was one major difference from my trip to Zleh Town, though. Instead of preparing a meal for us to eat, because they were unsure of when we would arrive, they gave me a gift. I am now the proud(?) owner of a chicken. I can say it was the first time I have received livestock as a gift - or for any other reason.

The trip back was as eventful as the trip to Pyne Town, with the car wedged in the same mud at the same point in the road-turned-ditch. As night fell and the week ended, my eye was improving and the rain moved into town. It was no sprinkle-turned-shower, nor was it a steady rainfall. It was a torrential downpour with strong winds blowing the rain vertically. I just stood in the doorway to the house, watching the rain as the metal roof transformed into nature's drum. Now I understand why Liberians prefer metal roofs to thatch. The rainstorm lifts the thatch roofs and the water just soaks through, leaving a less-than-ideal situation.

After the rain passed through, about an hour later, Pastor Dweh turned on the generator and prepared the only television set I've seen outside Monrovia. On weekends, the pastor will move the tv to the front porch and invite the neighborhood over to watch a film. Because of the rain, tonight's movie was indoors for the family. We were treated to The 7th Voyage of Sinbad, a 1958 film, with Arabic subtitles. How fitting, considering the film's topic.

My time is almost finished in Zwedru and we plan to drive back to Monrovia on Sunday after church. It is amazing to think the week is already completed, but I know I will never forget its events. This has definitely been one of the most amazing weeks I've ever had, with so many memories and experiences that I cannot possibly share them all when I return. Maybe I will run out stories from Liberia one day, but I can only imagine it will be months down the road.

Downtime

+14:00 Zwedru~

It has become obvious that life in Liberia is vastly different than the high-speed, must-do-it-yesterday life Americans have grown to love (or loathe). This fact becomes more apparent with each passing moment out here. Today was another example of this divergence from American life.

We couldn't send word to Pyne Town, which is in Sinoe County, of our impending visit. This, in turn, prevents us from travelling out there since we wouldn't reach the school in time to visit the children before they are dismissed. Sending word allows the teachers to delay releasing the children for the extra half-hour. As such, we opted to return to Nixon School today.

Students were continuing their 2nd Period testing today. Testing here is not like America. You don't sit in a classroom and have the teacher hand out the exams and then continue on with the day after the exam is finished. Instead, each subject teacher uses a specific classroom to administer the test. The teacher will then write the exam on the blackboard. The students, during their appointed hour, will arrive to the classroom, receive a blank piece of paper (with the school's seal stamped in the corner), and begin their examination. No student is allowed to enter or leave during the exam, either.

Because of this, the classes are staggered for their exam schedule. The lower grades, 2nd through 5th grade for example, will arrive on one day for their exams followed by the upper grades the next day. This will go on for a week, beginning on Wednesday and finishing on Tuesday the following week.

Because there was not much to do today, I thought I'd take the time to talk more in depth about the food. If you want to eat in Liberia know one simple fact; you will eat rice ever day you are there. If you do not like rice one bit, there is little chance you will enjoy anything in this country. Fortunately for me, I enjoy rice quite a bit.

The concept of three square meals, or six small meals as many nutritionists will tell you is healthier, is lost in this nation. Instead, you have one large meal prepared for the day. It is typically served in the early afternoon. There will be a large dish of rice accompanied with a smaller dish of some type of "sauce." The sauce is the excitement for each meal. Everything I have had so far has been amazing. We've enjoyed a peanut sauce with beef, "greens" with duiker, potatoes with fish, and cassava with chicken. Everything is spicy and filled with exotic flavor. Especially the cassava. I think this is my favorite so far. It is funny because I don't like tapioca, which is made from the root of the cassava plant.

Cassava is an interesting plant. As I said, the dish was filled with flavor and spicy. There was a thickness to the texture of the dish, with the sauce saturating each grain of rice to ensure a dish filled with flavor. I wish I could compare it to a familiar dish, but unfortunately I cannot. I can say it is interesting to note if the cassava leaf is not cooked properly it can make you violently ill and consumption of the raw leaf can kill you. The leaf contains a chemical that leads to the creation of cyanide.

As I mentioned earlier, the meal is prepared in the early afternoon. Everyone will eat as soon as the dish is ready, but no one puts away the food afterwards. Since there is no central source of electricity, there is no concept of refrigeration or food storage. Instead, you leave the meal covered for the day and eat whenever you are hungry. Typically, Liberians eat twice daily.

Further, meals are not a family affair. The men will eat separate from the women and children. Men will sit in front of the home, talking about the topics of the day while the women and children eat in the back, near the preparation area. I'm not sure what they talk about, if anything, since I was never back there during a meal.

When we were in Zleh Town, the pastor of Trinity Lutheran invited us to visit his home. This, it turns out, means he wanted to serve us a meal. We sat in the main room, where the pastor's mother dished us the food, first with the rice in the bowl and then the sauce on top. This was the "greens" I had mentioned earlier. Now, this dish sounds bland, but it was by far the spiciest meal I had all week. If it weren't for 1.5L bottles of water, I don't think I could've lasted throughout the meal. Greens, in Liberian, mean the leaves of the potato finely chopped and served with oil, typically palm oil, and meat. As you can guess, I had never had the leaf of a potato before. Tastes pretty good if you ask me.

As soon as the woman served our dishes, she disappeared. We were left to eat alone and only saw her again after we had finished so she could collect the dishes and disappear again. The roles of men and women in this society are very defined and rarely blurred. Even when guests arrive, the men and women do not eat together. It was not uncommon for a woman to greet me, talk for a moment and then disappear to the back to eat while the men stayed up front.

I asked Joe about this later, and he said this was how the culture exists. It is a regimented division between the men and the women. He had mentioned it can lead to problems, especially in dating. I wasn't able to ask much more, but he touched on it briefly, stating that the couple will often be separated from each other during the date because of the requirements.

Somehow, I don't see how many young Americans, myself included among them, would find this aspect of Liberia culture enjoyable.

The Next Brad Pitt? (Not Likely)

+16:00 Zwedru ~

Whenever I visit a school, I get the celebrity treatment. The children all stare at me, wave, try to shake my hand or touch my skin. It's like I'm Brad Pitt, only not at all.

Today, Joe, Pastor Dweh and I traveled to Zleh Town, about 42km from Zwedru. The school, Trinity Lutheran, is only in its second year with 122 children enrolled, up from 78 last year. When the car pulled up to the school building, a temporary building with thatch roofing, the children were singing songs of welcome.

Inside, the classes were paired in twos, to fit the small building, and sectioned off by mud walls and no doors. The entrance sets you directly in the "ABC" (pre-school) and K-1 classes, where more than 50 children are cramped into just a few benches. It didn't affect them, however, as they were still excited to meet their visitor. The other classes were considerably smaller, with the highest two grades consisting of just a handful of students - all girls.

After a brief visit into the classrooms, the teachers led us up to the church for a welcoming ceremony. The women of the church began with a song and dance similar to what I received on Sunday in Zwedru. Then the children of the ABC and kindergarten class performed another welcoming song. I enjoyed both songs, and the rest that followed, however, I must say it was odd sitting in the center of the alter in front of everyone. Almost kingly, and very uncomfortable.

After hearing from various leaders of the church and school, they wished to have me speak - catching me off guard. I'm not one to prepare anything, nor am I one who really expects to speak at anything. However, I am also not one who will keep his mouth shut when given an opportunity.

Normally, I would say something and everyone would stare and take in what is said and move along. Not this time. I would think it was more humorous than anything how this unfolded. Not because I said anything funny or did something to embarrass myself or others. But because I know the entire time I'm speaking, not one single person could actually understand what I was saying. I'm certain they were listening only to hear what an American sounds like since they've never seen one before.

Upon our return to the school, after Joe presented the good news about the school receiving the funding needed for a new building to be opened before the next school year, the kids were more subdued. They either shied away from asking questions or kept staring at their guest. When we handed out new shirts for uniforms, however, they livened up, reanimated by the sight of new clothing. The shirts were donated from a Lutheran school in Indiana. With this village being so poor, and rarely visited from what I could see, the sight of new shirts were welcomed by child and parent alike.

I must say it was great to see so many children wanting to go to school. They come to listen and learn and don't complain about the cramped quarters, the six kids to a bench that should hold only three. I hope their new building will help encourage great growth at this school, so more Liberian children can receive an education.

I need to write something about the trip to Zleh Town and back to Zwedru. The car we rode in is nothing to write home about, except to say it is an adventure in waiting. The driver swore his car could make it to Monrovia, but there was no way, with the engine constantly backfiring and the gas tank missing. Instead, the driver had a 5-gallon oil canister filled with gas, a rubber hose syphoning gas from the canister, located next to the engine. It was miracle in itself we didn't have a car fire. Plus, the car ended up breaking down about 45 feet from Pastor Dweh's house on our return. After we had returned, I sat down and ran my hand through my hair, turning my hand black from the smoke the car kept spewing.

Children Ask the Darndest Things

+15:00 Zwedru~

I revisited Nixon School today. The classrooms are filled with wonderful children with highly inquisitive minds. Joe and I met with each classroom this morning, but this time it was for me to talk to them a bit and to answer whatever questions they may have. I spoke a little about where I am from, and thanked them for affording me some time to talk to them. Then the floor was open for questions. Some were the usual questions you would expect to hear, while others were a little harder to answer.

The students, as well as the teachers and any other person I've ran into, wanted to know what I did for a living - which isn't really easy to answer when you are in a country who doesn't have researchers or analysts or political workers. The other questions would flow at nearly the same time in each classroom; am I married, do I have kids, where do I live in America? When they found out how old I was, the classroom would erupt in laughter. Not because it was strange to have a 28-year-old visit them, but because they didn't expect someone so young to be done with high school and college. Some of the kids in the higher grades were near my age.

When we moved to schooling, the real differences between schools in Liberia and America were revealed. They were surprised to hear that I would be the one who had to move between classrooms for each subject, and they thought it was amazing that I didn't have to take the meticulous notes they did because I had textbooks.

While those questions were fun to answer and enjoyable to discuss, others were hard to find the right response. Each class from fifth grade to tenth grade had at least one student who wanted to know what I could do for them. Some thought I was a missionary or pastor who arrived to give money or build a school. None could understand that I was just a visitor (more on that in a second) who came to witness the work being done.

These children aren't asking this question because they want something from me. They are asking it because various organizations - namely USAID, UNMIL (UN Mission in Liberia), and the EU - are trying to help but at a detriment to Liberia. They hand out money (as I mentioned earlier) but don't hand out opportunities to learn. The churches and other non-government organizations are doing great work but they can only go so far. Their funding is limited and their reach is restricted by the poor road conditions throughout the country (more on that in a few days). More is needed so people won't grow up asking how will you help me and start asking what can we do to help ourselves.

Because of this situation, when I brought the money raised from St. Mark's, we didn't tell them it came from me or that I brought the money. Instead, Joe would explain that Americans who care about what is going on through the Liberian Children's Ministry have provided the funding necessary to build two new school buildings and add on to another school (the money I brought from the church provided the half of the funding). This way, when others come to visit, they will not expect anything similar because I didn't bring the money, but the organization raised the money.

On another note, last night was fun. Joe, the Dweh's (the pastor and his family) and a couple of other visitors sat outside all night and talked. Most of it was Joe talking about America since he can understand them better than I and speaks their dialect much easier than I could ever imagine speaking. Every time Joe would mention something mundane for us (mowing the lawn or taking the trash out), they would be amazed at America's lifestyle. Then whenever Joe talked about an aspect of American life, they would be amazed at how much we could have and how much more we wanted.

Not only was it interesting to see how two cultures try to understand each other, it was also eye-opening to realize how little we really need to get by in America. There is no power here in the daytime, and only at night if the family can afford the fuel. There is no running water, nor indoor plumbing for most. No X-Box, TVs, DVDs, sports cars (or cars unless it is a government vehicle or taxi), decorations, sound systems, or any other kind of toy. Instead, there is the family, a roof, food to eat and a means to help other friends or family. I'm amazed at it all, but also thankful for what I have been blessed to have.

Ah, The Children

+15:00 Zwedru~

Last night's venture into the neighborhood prepared me well for today's visit to the school. Joe had some photos of the neighborhood children he wanted to hand out and I wanted to take some shots of my surroundings. When the children caught sight of my camera, which isn't small, the photos of the homes and people acting naturally became an impossibility.

Instead, I was able to talk with a dozen or so children, all wanting their picture taken. As I would finish taking pictures, they would then try to touch my hand or my arms, before they started screaming in joy at seeing their photos through my viewfinder. It was entertaining to see so many kids laugh at their very image, as if they were movie stars now because of a camera.

This morning I visited my first school, Nixon Elementary and Junior High School, named after the man who donated the land. The children were no different than the night before. During recess, they would all come in droves, typically the smaller children, for an opportunity to shake my hand, touch my arm, look at my legs (more specifically the two cross tattoos) and have their pictures taken. One girl walked up to me and hugged my legs.

The school is interesting and nothing from what I expected. They study the same subjects as the rest of the world - math, science, English, social studies, etc. - but they don't have classes in the same manner. Each grade has one classroom. This means some classes are sparsely populated, such as the ninth and tenth grades, while others are packed in tightly with five or more to a bench, as is the case for kindergarten and pre-school. What amazes me the most about the larger classrooms is not how the children don't mind having to study in such cramped quarters, usually for five hours daily. It is how these are the classes where the teachers do not switch out every hour for a new classroom.

In the higher grades, second grade on up, the teachers teach one subject and then move to another classroom to teach. It's like high school, but in reverse. This is not the same for pre-school (known as ABC in Liberia) up through first grade. These classes, four in total since kindergarten is split into two levels, have one teach for the entire day. The students, packed into small, 10x10 rooms, have to endure the heat in a room with no fans while the teacher tends to the students, many of who may be sick from malnutrition or germs or any of a dozen other ailments that small children are afflicted with daily.

This isn't meant to shed a dark light on what is happening. Rather this is to praise what the teachers are doing daily. They teach, day-in and day-out, without the same pay as the others, without the opportunity to take a thirty-minute break in the day like the others, and without the same gratitude shown to the others. They take on the role of the surrogate mother - in a culture where the younger children are not cared for the same way as the older, in fact many children in the poorer villages are without clothes because the family would spend their money on clothing for the older sons and daughters.

This is why Joe spends more time working with these teachers and striving to provide resources for these classes than he does the other grades. The new building coming in for this school will be geared for the ABC to first grade classes. It will provide much-needed space for the students to learn, with an area where teachers can read to the students, with the books provided by Mike's friend (Mike is one of the four members of the team mentioned a few weeks ago) to start. It is a great beginning for many of these children, with more potential for success as they grow older.

I had mentioned the older classes have more space, but this does not equate to easier methods of learning. The schools all across the country have little money, and that means limited resources. There are no textbooks handed out at the beginning of the school year. Instead, the teacher lectures the students and provides notes on a blackboard, with the students taking meticulous notes (and drawings - I saw one student's work and his diagram of a chemical compound accompanied by a drawing of a Bunsen burner with its properties put me to shame).

These children are not here because they have to be here. Rather, these children are here because they want to be here. They want to get an education. Their dedication to school rivals many American children's dedication. I still have much more to see, but I think the future of this war-battered nation could bring great success if more children took the opportunity to receive a decent education.

Not everything is working in their favor, however. The Liberian government and the United Nations, from what I've seen, have become more of a hindrance than a help to the redevelopment to this nation. They throw money at the problem, but don't give Liberians anything to support themselves. It's like giving a child a fish. If you don't teach that child how to fish, he'll rely on you for the rest of his life. This nation has no real project aimed at helping the Liberians, but they collect taxes to provide a basic function. There are police, but I didn't see many unless I was at an immigration check point or in Monrovia. Little money goes to education or public works, competition is rare and many people are left waiting for someone to come in to help.

Power plants were destroyed during the war, but the government doesn't take any real action to rebuild them because they want to see if another organization (see: UN or USAID) will step in first. This not only prevents progress in this country, but makes a mockery of the oldest republic in Africa. I hope the children I met today, and those I will see as my time continues, will have an opportunity to turn this around and turn Liberia into a nation that can support itself without the help from the UN or the WHO, or any other organization.

3 Days, 8700km Later... I'm Here

+15:00 Zwedru~

Funny how 350 miles can take so long to cover. After a nice 15 hours drive, we were able to reach my home for the next week. Three of us -Joe, his sister and myself - piled into a Nissan Sunny, with bags stuffed into the trunk and throughout the car, made the travel with a driver who would only say his name was AB. My first sight of what would be a completely different road trip from any other I've taken occurred just outside of Monrovia.

We pulled over to get gas. But instead of a gas station with pumps we had glass jars and funnels. Kids and teens would pour the gas through the funnel into the tank, with the driver rocking the car to make sure the car was filled to the brim. Then he loaded another five gallons into a plastic jug, placed it in the trunk, and repacked our luggage with it. That way he wouldn't pay as much for gas when he was in Zwedru. I did note, however, that the gas was $185LBD/Gallon, or $2.93US/Gallon. I also learned that gas is pink. Who would've guessed?

To add to the fun, once we got into Bong County (counties are the equivalent to states), he pulled over again to fix the car. This time, he wanted to install new brake-pads and spark plugs. This is where I got a better glimpse of my surroundings. The countryside is just beautiful. Most of the country is a rainforest, but we would drive in and out of it into grasslands, which just made for beautiful landscapes. The people, who were mostly very friendly, would stop in their tracks to take note of the "white man" who has entered into their world. Some would make double-takes, others would stop and say hi, and others wanted to talk to me. It was fun to listen to them speak and try to understand what was being said. I failed miserably at times and Joe had fun with that, but I began to get the swing of things.

I noticed a lot of signs posted throughout the country. They would display crude drawings with various propaganda, such as "Many Tribes, One Liberia" and "No Sex for Work, No Work for Sex," and "TB is Not a Curse, There is a Cure."

As we were waiting for the driver to finish working on the car, we bought some oranges from a lady who was peeling the outer layer but keeping the fruit inside still. I had never had an orange like this. It tasted a little different than Florida oranges, less citrus more sweet. I also had it by cutting the top off the sphere and basically sucking whatever juice and fruit I could get. A much messier way of doing it then slicing an orange up. But a much better taste than the orange juice I had in Brussels the day before.

I also received my first offer for a meal. The lady and her friend offered a home for me to sleep and a meal that evening. It was something called GB, which I am unsure of what it is, but Joe was laughing at the concept. I'm going to assume I should stay away from it.

After the repairs, we drove on. I learned very quickly that these roads are nothing like what I drive on back home. Half of the highway we were on was paved, right on through Ganta, but they were littered with potholes. Some areas had more gravel than road because of the rain and neglect. What was amazing was how the driver would speed through the road, swerving around every crevice and then slow down to cover the larger holes. He was blaring his horn at great frequency, putting to sham any New Yorker or Chicagoan. We would pass other Sunny's transporting Liberians, stuffed six or seven to a car and sometimes with riders on top of the car, and then we would pass pickup trucks loaded with various cargo - including a few with plants stacked three times the size of the truck itself.

We would stop on occasion for the driver, and whomever else, to use the restroom. Only problem is there is no restroom along the road. Instead, you pull over and have the men walk one direction and the women the other. You go about 10 feet into the forest and then come back.
Now, not everything was easy and smooth. There were immigration checkpoints littered throughout the country. Sometimes they would just look at my passport and let us go on our way (after the driver gave a small donation to the officer's wallet). Other times they would delay us in some effort to gain money out of me. They would look at my passport, as various questions and continue to cause delays (even saying I didn't have a visa while they were looking at the visa). It was a complete crapshoot, but after the 7th checkpoint, which we arrived at sometime after 4 in the morning, it is just a tiring effort.

There were time when we would stop in a city for various reasons. When we stopped in Ganta, which is the second largest city and just a 15 minute walk from Guinea, I witnessed a large number of people, late at night, who constantly shopped and talked with neighboring Africans. Many had never seen an American and many more just wanted something from anyone. They would walk up, making kissing noises or clicking noises to get your attention, and thrust some product in your face. Usually is was food or water, but sometimes it was pirated DVDs or clothing. Each time you have to tell them you have no money or they will continue to get you to give them money.

Around 5:30 in the morning we reached the pastor's house. I didn't realize the amount of dust we accumulated on the non-paved roads (which stretched half of the trip). My jeans were a nice red hue along with my hat, bags and everything else we had in the car. After a quick bath, which was a bucket of water with a towel and soap (and very refreshing after the long drive), I climbed into bed and slept. For eight hours.

The next afternoon, I as awoken by singing. Outside, a small group of women from the church welcomed me to Africa with songs in their native tongue, Krahn. It was really wonderful music. You could tell they were happy to be able to welcome new visitors to their town. Dressed in traditional clothing, all of which was very bright and colorful, the leader introduced everyone gathered. Naturally, I didn't understand a word as it was also in Krahn, but Joe was helpful to translate for me.

Shortly afterwards, the men arrived to welcome us. Apparently, the men and women do a lot of things separately. They also introduced themselves, but only while seated in chairs and in English. Not that it helped much, since their dialect makes it difficult to casually understand. They talked about the church and Zwedru. It was nice, but they really lit up when I showed them photos of the Chicago Bulls game I went to Tuesday. Amazing how sports brings everyone together.

When everyone left, I finally had a meal. This was the first time I had eaten, aside from a protein bar in Monrovia and the oranges in Bong County, since Brussels. We had rice with a sauce made of okra and duiker, a type of deer native to Sub-Saharan Africa. The food was great, and very spicy. If all the food is like this, I'll need a lot of water because the heat it provides rivals much of what I've had in the States, and I've eaten a lot of spicy food.

I am grateful my travelling has ended for now. It has been a long few days, and very little sleep to accompany it. The rest of the day is geared to rest and relax after the trip here and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. I have enjoyed my brief visits from the church members so far and no doubt will have many more visits coming throughout the week. This has truly been an adventure so far, and I cannot wait to find out what unfolds.

Monrovia

+Midnight, Monrovia~

I have read about cities destroyed after war. I have seen photos of poverty in other countries. But until tonight, I could never feel the true impact of disaster's affect on mankind. The roughly 60km drive from Roberts International to Monrovia gave me a cursory glance at war's lasting impact on Liberia and her people. The homes along the road, the ones visible in the night, at least, were nothing more than small shacks with metal roofing for those who could find the resource and hand-made mud bricks with thatch on top for the rest. There is no power. There is no running water. Families light their homes with candles, oil lamps, kerosene lamps, and fires. If you are fortunate to have enough money, you can buy a small generator to power your home for a couple hours. But most do not.

The roads to the city and in the city are paved, but there are no stoplights. There are no street signs. There are street lamps that line the path, but only a few are powered to see your way through. The source of power for those lamps are unknown to me; I can only guess it is the work of the United Nations. We are basically on your own down these streets, marked with potholes every few feet and worn away from neglect. It's impossible for me to think how I would've coped living like this. The thought of enduring a war in my own town, my own home, and then having nothing to rebuild with afterwards is unfathomable.

Absolutely Beautiful

+15:30 Monrovia~



There truly is beauty everywhere in this world. Flying over the Sahara Desert is just a magnificent event. With light and variable clouds, it is nearly impossible to see the horizon. Instead, there is a blending of Earth and Sky, not real distinction between the two. And there is no need. The red hues blend so well with each other, enhanced by the late afternoon sky. I never imagined a desert could project such a sight. My only regret is that I cannot reach for a camera to capture it.

And I Thought DC Was Expensive

+09:00 Brussels~

It isn't uncommon to pay $9.00 for breakfast at an airport, especially when you want bacon and eggs, maybe even a side of pancakes. But when you pay €9.70 for two croissants and a cup of coffee and €3.00 for a newspaper, you've nearly spent $20.00. Gotta love that exchange rate!

Over the Atlantic

+03:00 Brussels~

So far, the stories about smooth flights over the ocean are true. I have flown across the country many times, but haven't had as smooth a flight as this one.

Can't say the same thing about Canada, however. That rocky landscape only added to the turbulence.

Lift Off

+16:30 Chicago ~
It's surreal to think I am on a flight overseas. I have always wanted to travel abroad, but never really did anything practical about it. Now, I'm flying over Lake Michigan on my way to Brussels before flying south to Liberia. Africa! What an opportunity! There are some early thoughts:

Three languages - Everything is done in three languages on this flight; English, French and Flemish. The Flemish is the most interesting of the three. So many letters yet so little time used to pronounce them. Although, I will say the whole thing was entertaining at first, but when it takes five minutes to tell me to buckle my seat belt, it becomes a little tiring.

Kids - I love kids. I think it would be great to have kids. Even kids who speak French. But I do not think kids should ever fly in a plane until they know how to handle take offs and landings. Otherwise, it makes for a long flight for the American sitting behind you who has never flown internationally before. Apparently, though, juice resolves this crying thing.

Backpacks - Make sure your backpacks are completely empty before you start packing for long journeys. Especially if, for some odd reason, you have a butter knife in the bag. It makes for longer waits through security and makes you feel like a fool. And it forces the TSA personnel to give you the stink eye, which is no fun.

Today's The Day!

Finally! After the wait, the government delays and the changes in flight, I am ready to head out on this adventure!

My flight leaves at 4:30 this afternoon from O'Hare and I'll touchdown in Brussels for a few hours before flying to Monrovia. The fun part, sarcastically speaking, will be the long flight without a real chance at getting up and moving around. I'm hoping sleep comes easy for me so I can not worry about jet lag and so the flight doesn't seem as long.

I don't know how often I'll be able to post while I'm overseas, but I'll do so whenever I get a chance. Until then, take care, enjoy the weather and I'll talk to you soon!

Holding Pattern

I'm entering a phase in the wait in wondering if I'll ever travel out of the United States.

The mail arrived today with no indication of a visa. This means that I still cannot fly outside of the country. I'm fortunate enough to be able to reschedule my flight, but it is costing money and that is never good. Furthermore, I am starting to shut down mentally. There doesn't appear to be a silver lining when all I hear is empty mailboxes and yet-to-be-delivered documents. I hope things will improve come Wednesday when the mail resumes, but until I hear the visa has arrived, I will not pack my bags nor make further plans. I can't bring myself to doing those tasks when there is such frustration and disappointment.

And to make things worse, I feel like I'm letting many other people down. The church expected me to be gone last weekend. The children in Liberia do not have the shirts and books I have to take with me. And none of this weighs well with me right now. I don't like letting people down, nor do I like to be a disappointment for others. I can only hope, pray and wait for the visa to arrive.

AUGH!!!!

"This is your captain speaking... We've experienced a delay..."

As I have mentioned before, this is the first time my church is travelling to Liberia to see the good work that has been done in the African nation. Throughout this experience, I am establishing a pathway for future trips.

I had my bags packed. All the shots are taken. The checklists are completed. Nothing is left but to get up and go, right? Ah, that is where life dictates that my plans are never completely self-controlled.

I sent in for my visa about 10 days before the election. The plan was to have the visa return during the week of the election and then I can just board the plane on Saturday. As you can tell, Saturday has passed and I'm still in the United States. The visa hasn't arrived yet. What does this mean? Well, fortunately it means I just delay my trip by a few days. Unfortunately, I still don't have the visa, so there is no guarantee that I can still fly out.

I'm not nervous right now, because the embassy said the visa was mailed on Wednesday, which means I should receive it tomorrow at the latest. But it still is an uncomfortable feeling not having this document in my hand at the moment. I'd much rather have the visa now and expect to board a plane on Tuesday than to still wait for the Postal Service to deliver the necessary documents before I can rest easy in my upcoming travels. So, to those who are travelling overseas in the future, make sure your documents are sent with plenty of time to spare. And use the overnight option if one is available.

Because of this delay, however, I had to change my flight. That means I am not only leaving later, but I am returning later. I'll reach Chicago on November 24. For those of you keeping track at home, that means I'll return after my birthday, which is the 23. It's kind of fun to think that I'll be celebrating my birthday in Liberia, boarding a plane and arriving in Brussels shortly after my birthday.

I cannot imagine what it will be like to leave the country, or to spend time in Liberia. With my goal of holding no expectations, I have created a mindset where I am still in the United States until such a time that I actually board that plane bound for Europe. Until then, I'm just your average Joe, waiting for the next step in my life. For everyone, however, life can be exciting and unexpected - even when you don't go anywhere.

One Week Away!

It's almost surreal to think that in one week, I'll be on a plane to Brussels to connect to Monrovia. This is an event that would bring about the highest of anxiousness and excitement, but I'm a roller coaster these days.

I'm trying, as hard as I can to focus on the events at hand. I have an election to finish. I have to go through the motions to make sure I don't do something that hinders our chances there. I have to make sure I take care of the loose ends after the election, including working on the possibilities for after I return. I have to do whatever I can to not get caught up with the thought that one week from now, I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on my way to new possibilities.

That's where the little things come in. I'm taking time off from everything tonight to watch the Big Red Rivalry, Oklahoma-Nebraska Football, which is always great fun. It's not a game where you hate the other team but you don't want to lose to them, either. I'll take an hour out of my day leading up to the flight to work out. Just me and the weights, me and the treadmill. I'll even take time out to watch a tv show or two.

I think this is what I need to do to stay grounded. if I take in the little things, then I can truly enjoy the bigger things. No, that's not right...

You cannot have a full life if you don't appreciate even the little things. Living through the big events gives such a gaping hole throughout your life, so you have to take the time out to do the small stuff. Watch a movie, take a walk in the park, and enjoy it all. This is what I'm trying to do as I get closer to my trip. This is what I hope to do while I am in Liberia. If I don't, then I could miss out on so much.

That's about all for tonight. I don't expect to write much the next few days, but I'll get back into things after the election. I implore everyone to vote. Elections are always important for our nation, and this one is too. I don't feel it is right to tell anyone who to vote for, although I have my preferences. Look at the issues and where the candidates stand on the issues. Don't listen to the press, read their own statements and determine who stands with your opinions. And pray that whoever wins does what is right for this country and not just for their party. Partisanship only should exist during the campaign, not in the execution of our government.