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.

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.