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.

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.