Interviews

So, part of our trip up, was to do some work. We brought five packages with us to give to some people in need. Kathleen and James know a pastor up there and asked him to refer five people in the community that could use some extra help. Friday morning Kathleen and I left the kids at the compound, and went out to do our interviews. We went to the church and met the people, then sat down at a table and the people came in one by one to talk to us. I felt privilaged that the people shared their stories with us. I think this is the first time that I thought I might cry during an interview, hearing about the war and how it affected them, and how they escaped with their lives. It is not the first time I have heard stories like this, but for whatever reason, it hit me a lot harder. The one man, ABC they call him (Augustus B. Collie) doesn’t have the use of his legs due to polio. His chair couldn’t come up into the church, and so he crawled up the aisle to talk to us. To him it isn’t a big deal, but to watch, it is difficult. He was cheerful and hopeful about the future, and wanting to learn more about computers, to perhaps have his own computer so he can work typing documents for people to make a living. He says, people tell him “your disabled, why don’t you just sit down” but he says “no, my mind is still good, I can still learn”. It was very encouraging to hear. During the war in 1994 soldiers came into town. Everyone ran, he was left alone in the house, not knowing where anyone had gone, so he too had to escape, crawling into the bush. His friends found him, and put him in a wheelbarrow, and helped by pushing him around. They couldn’t light fires to cook, becuase if the soldiers saw smoke, they would come find them and kill them. He said they had nothing, they had to sleep on the ground, they had no blankets or sheets. One woman they met, her husband had been killed, and so she asked him to take one of her small daughters, and so he talked with his wife, and they took this extra girl to be their daughter. At one point back in town, they were going to kill him, because he was disabled, but one man convinced the soldiers not too, and then later he heard that they had killed another man who was in a wheelchair.
Another man that we interviewed when we asked how many children he had, he said five, but only three are living. Again during the war, they had to run to the bush for safety from the soldiers. Two of his children died of starvation in the bush. He is looking after three of his brothers children as well though, as his brother was killed in the war.
When we returned home Ruth was here, and I told her about my trip, and she told me how when she was little she lived with her grandma, during the war, and they lived in a village. At night they would have to go and sleep in the bush on the ground, and the two of them would sleep on her grandmas lapa (like a wrap around skirt). She was two when the war started and she lived with her Grandma till she was five, when her grandma got sick and died. Then she went and lived with her parents.
These stories are not isolated. Everyone in this country has suffered during the war. It is heartbreaking to hear the stories. It is still not easy for people as they struggle to find jobs and have enough to feed their families.

Passport to Gbarnga

July 29, 2006


Just returned from the big trip out of the city. I am so glad I got to go. Now I am back in the city, with the noisy goats in the yard (okay, maybe you don’t think goat when you think city..rural city) and all the people, and taxis. Anyhow. Kathleen, the four children and myself all drove up to the capital of Bong County, Gbarnga about a four hour drive from here. It is a small city, more like a town really. The trip had one slight stress. We are going down the highway when Kathleen mentioned something about getting hasseled by immigration at the Iron Gate. Hmmmm, immigration in the middle of the country I am thinking, I thought you only ran into them entering and leaving a country. Anyhoo. I innocently say, “should I have brought my passport?” Kathleen, “you didn’t bring your passport??” Yeah, no I did not. Kathleen says, well hopefully it will be alright, and then proceeds to tell me how one time, when she had her resident permit, they stopped her for several hours and confiscated her papers. Hmm. Not feeling very confidant at this time. My heart begins beating faster and I get that dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach. I spend the next hour or so praying to God that the immigration will have softened hearts and let us through. See, the main reason for my oversight is I had been through the Iron Gate (which is actually cement as the children pointed out) two years ago when we were running a feeding program, multiple times, but there was no one manning the gate. Apparently Kathleen tells me I should always be carrying my passport with me. News to me. Anyhow. We arrive and drive up. We see friends in a Samaritans Purse vehical coming the other direction, they drop the rope and they just drive on through. Kathleen goes for it, they stop her. They pull us over to the side, the man talks to her, and asks for ID, Kathleen gives her ID. He asks for mine and she explains how I forgot etc etc. He gives us a hard time, (apparently I commited an immigration offense) but lets us go after a few minutes and after Kathleen has given him her phone number. We drive away and I thank God for answering my prayers. Yay. We are on our way. We arrivei n the city and the first thing you notice is all the motorbikes. Instead of town being jammed full of taxis, it seems up here people ride motorbikes. We drive up to the Catholic Compound where we are spending the night at their guest house. It is a very nice place, with a large dinning hall and chapel and dormatories. We have two rooms with a double bed each and bathroom. I am very happy with the accomadatoins. The buildings are built with dirt bricks that are compressed with cement and make a very pretty sand coloured brick. It is peaceful here. We are all sitting out in a Palava Hut waiting for our room keys when Kathleens phone rings. Unknown number. She answers. It is the immigration man. Just making sure we arrived safely. How sweet. I hear Kathleen say “oh but why do you want to talk to her?” and then “thats not what she’s here for my friend” and click. She hung up on him. I ask her, what did he want to talk to me for?? Apparently he wanted to be my friend. Nothing like having an older sister around to fend off unwanted immigration suitors. I was pretty happy I didn’t have to talk to him. Then I think, oh I hope we don’t see him on our way back through...
Not the first immigration officer that has tried to use his position to try and be my “friend” hmm. Well anyhow. It gives me something to giggle about to myself. I will write more about this trip, but for now that is all. Have a great day.

INDEPENDANCE

July 26, 2006


Just heading to bed. Thinking about history. Never took it past grade 10, I took all those science and math courses...ugh. The odd thing is, when I think back, my favorite part of any assigment was always the title page...Well back to the History thing. Wednesday here is Independance Day. We like to laugh, becuase Liberia never really gained independance from some domineering country like the US did. The country was settled by freed slaves, or men and women en route to becoming slaves that were freed and dropped off on the shore. I am not sure of all the details, I will have to ask my local historian friend. When I think of the word independant, I think, strong willed, wealthy or self-sufficient, able to make good choices, not afraid of putting your neck out there. We all have pictures of say, and independant woman, or an independant child, or and independ Aunt (teehee). I never wanted to be an independant woman, it sounds like so much work, but when I was little always wanted to be independantly wealthy.
Liberia I think needs to have a new Independance Day. Right now, she is not independant. When we drive about 5 minutes down the road, you come to the first UN checkpoint. Just beyond that, is a stadium where I believe some UN battalions live. I don’t even know how many in a battalion. I’ll find out tomorrow. On certain days if you pass at the right time you can see them marching in their ceremonial gear, with swords none the less. If you go to the beach on a weekend, again you will see the UN, but this time, they are in speedos and looking for a good time. We avoid the beach on the weekend. Driving down the highway, probably 40 percent of the vehicals are taxis, the major form of transportation, 25 percent fo the vehicals are UN, 20 percent are NGO’s (non-government organization, for example, World Vision, or Save the Children or Oxfam, or MSF, or Living Waters, or Samaritans Purse, or the list goes on and on) and other mission organizations, and the remaining 15 percent, private vehicals and government vehicals. I have never done an exact count, and it is possible that these counts are way off. But the point is, there is a lot of UN and a lot of NGO’s. These people are here to a. keep the peace (I believe there is around 70000 UN here) b. for development and relief. In a few years they will all be gone, but for now they are here helping out. The country needs help, help to get power in the country again, help to get running water in the country, help to rebuild schools and Universities....the list goes on. My point is, on July 26 this year Liberians celebrated 159 years of independance, and part of this celebration was turning the power on at the JFK hospital...the main hospital in town with plans to broaden this to the whole city, everyone was so excited and happy, but won’t it be an even greater celebration when Liberia can live without the need of soldiers to keep the peace, and the government will be stable and can invest in the education and health of the people, and does not need outside countries and agencies to run these program. The journey has started, I am praying that it continues, and that Liberia will become a strong, vibrant, self-sufficient country, just like an independant woman. Well, again, just my thoughts and opinions, I’m no expert, just an observer.

Words words words

July 20, 2006

I would like to start out by saying, I am no expert on Liberia, or its people and customs, I am merely an observer of what I see, and what I experience. After living here for maybe 15 or 20 years, I could then perhaps say I felt like a bit of an expert.
Every day that I am out and about and talking to people I learn something new, or I am made aware of how little I really understand. I am working on my Liberian English, but fail to be understood everytime I speak to someone. My conversations are peppered with what? and blank stares, and of course I have my own difficulty understanding what the person is saying. Someone will be telling a really good story, or I assume it is good, becuase everone else is smiling or laughing or listening intently, but I only understand perhaps 50% of what is said. Its like when you don’t get a joke, and by the time they have explained it to you, it sort of looses its “life”. Just yesterday while interviewing one lady, I asked her I think, how she can make her living. She stares at me, then looks at Henry the counsellor with me as if to say, come on, tell me what this white woman is saying. He repeats the question, and to me, it sounds the same...okay, perhaps his accent is slightly different, but not that different. I think I can say something so people will understand.....but fail miserably more often than not. I think my first time in the country, I spent the first month very frustrated with the communication troubles. Now, I just have to keep trying, and if all else fails smile or laugh at the situation. Even people that I see and talk with every day, like Martha our housekeeper, or Oneisemus who lives here, there is still misunderstanding, on a daily basis.
Some popular words here:
fine....fine girl, fine boy, etc. though, once was I called enchanting by a man from Ivory Coast, besides this, not much variation
small, as in small small (aka very small), or small thing (which is like a small amount of money, like a tip or something you would give to someone)
sausage....sausage sausage sausage This is what people will say as they are walking with a bucket down the road full of hotdogs to sell. They call hotdogs sausage, but when you hear it, it sounds to me like sasay sasay sasay
Alright. When you ask how someone is, usually they say ‘alright’ (not fine, becuase that would mean they were good looking) or sometimes, they are “trying” which means they are well, trying.
A favorite saying “before good food waste let belly bust” but with an accent. “befo goo foo ways let belly bus”
When monkey jammed eat pepper....whe monkey jam ea peppa. Okay, meaning, when you have no money to buy food, eat peppers...new for me today. (when you see a monkey eating pepper, that means he is really desperate)
Baboon will divide kola...when you have a fight, the baboon will be the judge. Hmmm, I like it.
Well I think that is all it for now. I’ll update you when I learn more.
BEC for Now.

Pharmaceuticals Wanted

Well just a quick one. Firstly I would like to say hi to every one at the pharmacy....I miss the good times, the coffee, the chocolates and other treats. Its all like a dream to me now:) Has anyone taken any fantabulous holidays this summer???

So, my sister, she has a problem. It started a few weeks ago with a small bump on her finger. It has gotten bigger and bigger and now it is this huge growth that has taken over the side of her finger. She saw a friend who is a doctor, he doesn't know what it is, it is not like anything I have seen...very strange. So the doctor has prescribed cloxicillan, I am not sure what it will do, because it doesn't look to be an infection, more of a growth.
Then a couple days ago, she got a few bumps on her hands, now they are many, I with my vast knowledge as a pharmacy technician have decided it is scabies. Problem, we have nothing to treat it. So tomorrow, my mission, to see if they carry lindane or permethrin in the country. I am sure they must, why wouldn't they??? Here's hoping. I mean, last time I was here, I went to the stationary store to buy a few things. The stationary store had no legal sized paper....crazy. Oh, and the store we shop at, they never have brown sugar. The silly thing is that they grow sugar cane here, (we grow it in our yard...I wish I new how to extract the sugar) but they import brown sugar from the US. So, if they have no lindane lotion or Kwellada, I will admitt, it won't be a huge surprise. Anyone know any home made treatements???
Bye from Buggy in Paynesville.
PS. Bill Clinton was in the country yesterday, he is promoting AIDS awareness....good for Bill. He didn't have as much security as Kofi...

The Week

July 14, 2006


Heard from my window while working on the computer:

William (5 years old): potty mouth potty mouth Noah is a potty mouth
Noah (7 years old): do you even know what a potty mouth is?
William: no
Noah: its someone with a big mouth, like a pot is big

William: do you like coke?
Max: yes
William: coke head coke head.....

I have to laugh....now there is innocence for you...a potty mouth is someone with a large mouth and a coke head is someone who likes coke. How refreshing.


Alot has happened since Monday. It has been a full week. Tuesday, okay, I’ll admit, I don’t remember what happened on Tuesday, I think I did office work on the computer, and looked after the kids. Wednesday, had prayer meeting in the morning, which ended extending until 1pm. We do quite a bit of talking and discussion, and this week we started studying the book of Joshua in the Old Testament. Kathleen was supposed to prepare the lesson, but was busy, so I was the pinch hitter. Good book Joshua. Main message...be strong and couragous for the Lord your God is with you. So good I decided to use the stories in Joshua for my kids club. Nothing like double dipping. We also talked about good leadership, which is always on our minds, with the new government in place, and everyone hoping that things will move forward for the country. Honesty and integrity are crucial for change to happen. In the past there has been a lot of dishonest behaviour within the government ( I know, which government doesn’t suffer from this problem) and it is difficult to change behaviours and attitudes that have been so prevelent in the past. We are praying for change. Wednesday afternoon I took the children to the beach to swim with their friends, and I had a nice chat with Debbie, a woman who’s husband Rick is a doctor here. They have been here I believe since 1997. Rick’s mom recently died of Alzheimers, and they returned from the states just a couple weeks ago. It is nice to have understanding with other people who have dealt with the disease in a loved one.
The waves were strong and so the smaller kids played in the lagoon, while the older boys were out in the waves. I went in for a short dip....they have portuguese man-o-wars here, and I am always feeling things brushing up too me...overactive imagination:) Today I was still finding sand in my hair...I just can’t figure how it got there!
Thursday, Kathleen and I went to Group of 77 to interview families. Several of my people weren’t there though, so will do their interviews on Tuesday. I was standing in the hallway waiting to take a photo of a family. Try to imagine. Cement hallway, ground level. Its dark, except for the light coming through the breeze blocks (cement blocks with holes in them). There are people in wheelchairs scattered down the hall. Several doors are open to the small 10 by 10 rooms, also dark as there is no electricity. In one room there are two women with polio lying there by the door with their babies, watching the people go by. There is about 5 small children ages 3 to 5 marching around the hall. The building is rectangular, with the halls all joined. These kids must of passed me 4 or 5 times, around and around. One boy didn’t look well and appeared feverish as he had beads of sweat on his face and his eyes seemed a bit puffy and glassy. I wonder if he has malaria or something. While I am waiting, a blind man comes around the corner, being led by Boima, a boy of about 10 who can barely walk himself due to muscle jerks and his feet not going in the right directions. Coming behind the man is Patience, a young girl of the same age who has some similar problems as Boima. They both have big smiles on their faces. I say hello as they go by. The two children seem to be inseperable. Halfway down the hall is a laundry line, with someones clothes drying. There are also two coal pots burning, with pots on them...lunch. A boy of 14 or so comes in with a large bag. He dumps out two roosters....alive. There feet are tied together so they can’t escape. I wonder to myself...is there a reason he is letting them out inside the building? He re-ties their feet and carries them away. Every time I am there I remember, there is an infestation of bed bugs, and then I start feeling itchy. I am not surprised, what with the live poultry around the sleeping quarters. The family finally gathers, an elderly women in a wheelchair with two daughters and their babies with no apparent fathers, and a son who looks about 30, and not mentally stable. I wonder, what is there to be done that would really help them? It seems like an impossible challenge.
Today. My first kids club up the road. I was thinking we may have up to 90 children, but we had about 35 to 40 ( I admit I didn’t count) The lower numbers are a bit more managable for me. We sang some songs, and I told a bible story, then I had some volunteers help to act it out, then we played a game outside. I think it went well, but it is always a challenge to really connect with the communication being a bit tricky. I ask them, do you understand me? They all stare at me...I think it will get better as they get to know me. Out of all the kids, I think only two or three of them can read, so activities I choose are somewhat limited.

Statistic in the newspaper today, 1 doctor per 88, 000 people. there are only 34 doctors in the country. Wow...

Tired

July 10, 2006


I am so tired. I wish it was bedtime, but it is only 6:30. This morning we had a rain storm. I finally decided it was time to get out of bed at 7:15 when the hugest crack of lightening, and thunder roll happened right over head. It shook the house. Not much sleeping after that. We left the house just before 8, and were on our way, up to Kakata again. This time we went farther up the highway, and through a rubber plantation to the village of Baypolu, a village of about 3000. Like Chemainus, but everyone living in mud huts, just try and imagine that. On the way up, we met some stupid chickens, who didn’t run off the road like they’re supposed to. I heard a squawk. I didn’t look back, but like to think the squawk was that of fear, and thank goodness that truck didn’t hit me, instead of the alternative. We did five interviews this time, but I think there was a bit of nepotism (sp?) going on, the people were selected by the town chief, and should have been people with the greatest need, but the people on the list were his daughter, his clerk, himself and one other woman with the same last name, and another woman, I am not sure how she fit into the picture. Anyhow, it was disappointing, as these people didn’t seem to have as great of need as perhaps some others in the community. While doing one interview, a fight broke out between some lady passing by, and the chief and his daughter. Unfortunately for me, I don’t speak Kpelle or Kissi. Anyhow, we have to decided now, what we are going to do. There is need everywhere, and I am sure the people we interviewed have needs, but in comparison to others, they are doing okay. It is a tough call. On the way home just as we were leaving it started to downpour. To leave the village we had to do some off roading as the road was too muddy, and so we were driving in between the rubber trees. We were spinning out in one spot, but yay, the 4 wheel was working, and we got through with no problem. We only stalled once when we drove through a really big puddle and got water on the engine. Once it dried out, we were good to go again. At one point a small pig ran on the road in front of us. I was cheering it on, “run to the side, run to the side”, but it kept running down the centre of the road, then another little pig joined it. Finally they veared off to the right so we could pass them. They were obviously too young to have learned about traffic safety yet.
Some thoughts as we drove home:
-if they put some randomly placed potholes on the highways in Canada, it would really decrease the speed problem
-I bet my friends would be jealous that I am 4 wheeling in Africa
-I think my oxygen intake is about 50% less driving with Kathleen, I keep having to remind myself to breathe.
-according to many Liberians the way to get through a tight situation, or very muddy road is to “take your own time” apparently taking your own time can overcome almost any obstacle. So far so good.
Well that is about all for now.
PS. On arriving home, as I was taking off my shoes I had an unfortunate discovery. Now, remember, this is the 2nd day in a whole month that I have worn shoes, I usually wear flip flops. Lo and behold between my third and fourth toe on the left foot, a crack. Ack, athletes foot. Up until this point in my life, I have remain fungal free. Let me tell you, I am not pleased. I have started treatment, I will keep you updated. Suddenly my feet feel hot and itchy.

Pancakes and Samosas

July 8, 2006



It has been a full day of food and fun. This morning we went out for breakfast, to the Samaritan Purse house down the road for pancake breakfast. One girl there is from Calgary, so in memory of the Stampede, we had our own little party here in Liberia. We ate, visited and even did some line dancing, it is hard to stomp though in flip flops, not quite the same. It was fun though. After that I came home, then drove to town to run errands and pick up Joy from a sleepover. I drove the jeep today, you can see the potholes alot better from higher up, but with the larger vehicle it is harder to swerve to miss them. I also found weaving in and out of traffic more difficult.
Tonight was a “big” night out on the town. Friends of my sister have been here two years as missionaries. Their daughter (also Rebecca) and her boyfriend came for a month, before her parents head back to the States. Anyhow, Rebecca plays the piano and sings very beautifully, and my sister helped to arrange for her to sing at a hotel here, the Mambo Point Hotel. They probably have one of the only pianos in the country. Anyhow...because I play guitar and sing, they thought it would be fun if I played as well, so we both did a set. It was in the hotel bar area of the resturaunt. I was really not looking forward to it, as I felt my music perhaps was not up to Hotel standards, or what you would play in hotel, but what they hey, you only live once. I did four songs, 2 fast, 2 slow and sweated profusly, and was very nervous and made many many mistakes, but from what they tell me, no one could tell. I was very happy about that. It was fun, and now, I have played in a hotel in Liberia, something new to brag about :) And the proprieters wife who is from Ireland (but has been in the country 19 years) came over and visited with us and thanked us, and we all had free drinks and samosas (which were very yummy by the way). It is the first time I have had any sort of payment for my music, so that was exciting. All I need now is a sign that says “will play for samosas and cold beverages”. These are the things memories are made of. As I left, one of the employees said “I like your music, you have a nice voice” I say, “oh, thank-you”, him, “sleep well”, me, “I always do”. It is nice to be appreciated. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I told James I could start busking here. I could make five five dollars here and there. At the least, it would be something new....I could start a new craze here. As long as I have been here, I have never seen anyone busking, I think they should start. It will be like the Victoria of West Africa.

Birthdays & Friday.

July 5, 2006

My last entry as a young 27....
Apparently, according to my atlas, I am 11, 109 km away from home. That’s pretty far.
Today, lets see, what did I do?? Got up, had breakfast, drank my coffee, had my bath, studied Anatomy/Physiology, had prayer meeting, visited with friends, had lunch, watched the kids, played games with William ( I taught him Yatzee, he is only 5, but caught on pretty well, I won:) Then we played Dynamic Memory and he whopped me.:(I had seven, he got 24. Just goes to show that young minds are that much quicker. I just figure I have a lot more junk cluttering mine up and so really he has the advantage.) The other kids went out to the beach to play with friends so it was just me and William. We shared some of my special chocolate from Canada. Shh, don’t tell the others or they’ll want some. I bottle fed the deer, shot some hoops with the boys, and now I am having a little quiet time. Tomorrow I turn 28. I am no longer “mid-twenties” I have reached the “late-twenties”. I can’t believe I have gotten to this point already. Man time flys. I considered making my own cake, but I thought I would wait until tomorrow in case someone else wants to, I would hate to steal that pleasure from them. I think it will be a quiet day. We have work to do in the morning, interviewing people down town, then I am hopefully going to a screening of a documentary made about Liberia at some friends place in town, then perhaps after getting home, we will have a bit of a birthday dinner. Thursday night we have spaghetti, it is our western food of the week. To be honest I prefer the rice and soup (what we would call sauce). Today we had water greens ( just what you would imagine, green leaves that grow in the swamp) and smoked fish on rice. It was yummy, thouigh perhaps a little heavy on the red oil. Well I think that is all for now. Until next time. Bec.
PS. Kofi Annan was here for two days, I didn’t get to see him but he did drive by our house in a convey twice. We had a tank parked out front gate for the day just to be be on the safe side. We live on the way to the airport, so pretty much everyone drives by our front gate.

July 8, 2006


Friday Night. Enjoying the entire expanse of my bed. Joy is off at a sleepover, so that means I can sleep in peace without the worry of being kicked or jabbed in my sleep. Today was a good day. Kathleen, Onesimus and I drove up to Kakata, which is just over an hour away. Once there we went to an NGO office, ZOA (its Dutch and stands for South East Asia something or other, but now they are in Africa). We got some recommendations from them for families to help with resettlement. We took one of their employees, Lucy with us and drove an hour on a dirt road into the bush to Nhayn Community. Just after leaving the highway, we drove through several large puddles and got the engine wet and stalled the engine. I had visions of being in the woods for hours waiting for help. Thankfully (after some heartfelt prayer on my part) and after drying out for a few minutes the truck started again. Later we came to a very muddy area. I told Kathleen, I don’t think we can make it, Oneisemus got out and checked it out, then Kathleen got out and assessed the depth of the grooves through the mud, and apparently she thought we could make it, and we did...I was amazed. I am glad I was not driving. We drove through about 3 smaller villages. In one village there was an older man with one leg in a wheelchair on the road facing down hill, appearing stuck ( remember this is a bumpy, dirt road ) we got Onesimus to get out and help him to the side of the road. I guess the man thought great, some young strong man to push me, and so he got Onesimus to push him back up the hill. There were all these other young men, sitting on the side, just watching. I wonder how this man normally get around, if anyone there helps him. Everywhere we passed, they see that there are two white women, and all the children wave and call out hello, or “white woman, white woman”. The roads are so bad, and we were driving so slow, that you have time to say hello to the people that you are driving by. Some of the mud houses have designs that people have painted on them, or sayings they have printed on. I asked a man up there, if you have a good roof, how long with a mud house last, “long time” he says. Some of them were built before the war (which began 1990) That is pretty impressive considering the torrential rain, that can occur over a four month period every year. Good roofing is the key. We arrived at the village, it is fairly large, with a school and a clinic. In 1994 during the war, soldiers came through and everyone fled to the bush, and they burned the place down, destroying most peoples homes. From what they told us, the old people that couldn’t run away, they herded into a building, locked the door and burned the building down with them in it. These are autrocities that are hard for me to fathom. Some people that escaped to the bush also died, from sickness, or becuase they just weren’t strong enough. We were to interview 5 families, but only 2 of the women to interview were there. The other three had gone to town. A woman in the next village had just died in childbirth and so they went to town to make funeral arrangements and to mourn. From what I gather, the baby was over due and perhaps even was a still born, and then the woman died after the baby was born. They carried her to a clinic, but either they couldn’t do anything for her, or it was just too late. The realities here are harsh and unforgiving.
Our interviews went well and when we were done, we turned around and headed for home. Thankfully some of the puddles had shrunk with the sun. As we went, we past several swim holes where the boys were all having their baths. We bought some monkey apples (like leechie nut) and two bags of coal, for half the price it would be in town. We passed lots of rubber trees, all planted row after row. I was sad to come back to the city with its noise and garbage heaps everywhere and all the crush of people. I think I just am a small town girl at heart. On our drive out to Nhayn Community it was reminiscent of the drive out to Zeballos or Tahsis on the West Coast. just less mountains and more puddles. Makes it feel just a little bit more like home.

Birthdays & Friday.

July 5, 2006

My last entry as a young 27....
Apparently, according to my atlas, I am 11, 109 km away from home. That’s pretty far.
Today, lets see, what did I do?? Got up, had breakfast, drank my coffee, had my bath, studied Anatomy/Physiology, had prayer meeting, visited with friends, had lunch, watched the kids, played games with William ( I taught him Yatzee, he is only 5, but caught on pretty well, I won:) Then we played Dynamic Memory and he whopped me.:(I had seven, he got 24. Just goes to show that young minds are that much quicker. I just figure I have a lot more junk cluttering mine up and so really he has the advantage.) The other kids went out to the beach to play with friends so it was just me and William. We shared some of my special chocolate from Canada. Shh, don’t tell the others or they’ll want some. I bottle fed the deer, shot some hoops with the boys, and now I am having a little quiet time. Tomorrow I turn 28. I am no longer “mid-twenties” I have reached the “late-twenties”. I can’t believe I have gotten to this point already. Man time flys. I considered making my own cake, but I thought I would wait until tomorrow in case someone else wants to, I would hate to steal that pleasure from them. I think it will be a quiet day. We have work to do in the morning, interviewing people down town, then I am hopefully going to a screening of a documentary made about Liberia at some friends place in town, then perhaps after getting home, we will have a bit of a birthday dinner. Thursday night we have spaghetti, it is our western food of the week. To be honest I prefer the rice and soup (what we would call sauce). Today we had water greens ( just what you would imagine, green leaves that grow in the swamp) and smoked fish on rice. It was yummy, thouigh perhaps a little heavy on the red oil. Well I think that is all for now. Until next time. Bec.
PS. Kofi Annan was here for two days, I didn’t get to see him but he did drive by our house in a convey twice. We had a tank parked out front gate for the day just to be be on the safe side. We live on the way to the airport, so pretty much everyone drives by our front gate.

July 8, 2006


Friday Night. Enjoying the entire expanse of my bed. Joy is off at a sleepover, so that means I can sleep in peace without the worry of being kicked or jabbed in my sleep. Today was a good day. Kathleen, Onesimus and I drove up to Kakata, which is just over an hour away. Once there we went to an NGO office, ZOA (its Dutch and stands for South East Asia something or other, but now they are in Africa). We got some recommendations from them for families to help with resettlement. We took one of their employees, Lucy with us and drove an hour on a dirt road into the bush to Nhayn Community. Just after leaving the highway, we drove through several large puddles and got the engine wet and stalled the engine. I had visions of being in the woods for hours waiting for help. Thankfully (after some heartfelt prayer on my part) and after drying out for a few minutes the truck started again. Later we came to a very muddy area. I told Kathleen, I don’t think we can make it, Oneisemus got out and checked it out, then Kathleen got out and assessed the depth of the grooves through the mud, and apparently she thought we could make it, and we did...I was amazed. I am glad I was not driving. We drove through about 3 smaller villages. In one village there was an older man with one leg in a wheelchair on the road facing down hill, appearing stuck ( remember this is a bumpy, dirt road ) we got Onesimus to get out and help him to the side of the road. I guess the man thought great, some young strong man to push me, and so he got Onesimus to push him back up the hill. There were all these other young men, sitting on the side, just watching. I wonder how this man normally get around, if anyone there helps him. Everywhere we passed, they see that there are two white women, and all the children wave and call out hello, or “white woman, white woman”. The roads are so bad, and we were driving so slow, that you have time to say hello to the people that you are driving by. Some of the mud houses have designs that people have painted on them, or sayings they have printed on. I asked a man up there, if you have a good roof, how long with a mud house last, “long time” he says. Some of them were built before the war (which began 1990) That is pretty impressive considering the torrential rain, that can occur over a four month period every year. Good roofing is the key. We arrived at the village, it is fairly large, with a school and a clinic. In 1994 during the war, soldiers came through and everyone fled to the bush, and they burned the place down, destroying most peoples homes. From what they told us, the old people that couldn’t run away, they herded into a building, locked the door and burned the building down with them in it. These are autrocities that are hard for me to fathom. Some people that escaped to the bush also died, from sickness, or becuase they just weren’t strong enough. We were to interview 5 families, but only 2 of the women to interview were there. The other three had gone to town. A woman in the next village had just died in childbirth and so they went to town to make funeral arrangements and to mourn. From what I gather, the baby was over due and perhaps even was a still born, and then the woman died after the baby was born. They carried her to a clinic, but either they couldn’t do anything for her, or it was just too late. The realities here are harsh and unforgiving.
Our interviews went well and when we were done, we turned around and headed for home. Thankfully some of the puddles had shrunk with the sun. As we went, we past several swim holes where the boys were all having their baths. We bought some monkey apples (like leechie nut) and two bags of coal, for half the price it would be in town. We passed lots of rubber trees, all planted row after row. I was sad to come back to the city with its noise and garbage heaps everywhere and all the crush of people. I think I just am a small town girl at heart. On our drive out to Nhayn Community it was reminiscent of the drive out to Zeballos or Tahsis on the West Coast. just less mountains and more puddles. Makes it feel just a little bit more like home.

Kids

June 30, 2006



We are still cataloguing books. It seems to be an never ending task, I think I am almost through, then another stack shows up. And this is just the books in the house. There are more in the container that we are waiting to put up more shelves so we can sort properly.
Anyhow. This morning James took me up the road to Pastor Samuels house. This is a man who Kathleen and James have worked with for several years. He has a church that they hold in a shelter just off their house. Anyhow, James was encouraging the pastors to not just think about Sunday morning, but to do something for their communities in the week. So Pastor Samuel decided to start a school. A free school (schools here you have to pay to attend, and many people can’t afford the fees). There is over 100 children from ages 3 to 14. We went up there, and I carried with me two footballs (soccer) that were donated by a man Karl Reuthers to give away. I almost didn’t want to take the balls out of the truck as I was afraid of starting a small riot. When the children saw the balls, they all started smiling and talking excitedly, all the chldren wanted to shake my hand, I could tell they could not wait to start playing with them. Football here is huge, as well as kickball. They were all very appreciative. Half the kids went off to play with the ball, the others stayed around me, I guess to have a look. I took some of their pictures. Then I suddenly had a following of children all wanting to be in a photo. I talked to Pastor Samuel and will be planning to go up there once a week and holding a childrens club. It is summer now, so there is no school. I will take a guitar and sing songs with them, tell bible stories, play games and hopefully share the love of Jesus with them. Some children here are not well cared for and some have to grow up very young and expected to work hard at home doing chores, or selling in the markets. This is an opportunity to be an example of love and care and to hopefully let them know that they are precious and worth so much in God’s eyes. In the bible Jesus said, “let the little children come to me, for such is the kingdom of heaven” God values children, and so should we. I know it will be overwhelming trying to work with so many children, with such a broad age range, but I am hoping that I can recruit some people to help me that are like minded in seeing the value of investing in children in this way. Fyffester, I am wishing you were here right now:)

Maggots and Dukors

June 28, 2006



I will say this, the days are never the same here.Today I spent the majority of my time inside cataloguing books. I know, sounds riveting. Anyhow. I was in working when Joy my neice ran in saying, come see what Solomon gave me. I got up and followed Joy out to the front, where in the flower planter stood a tiny, cat sized deer. It is a called a Dukor and the poor little thing weighs probably no more than 5 pounds. This man Solomon is a student of Kathleen's, and he goes to the interior and gets wood to sell. I guess he was in the woods and found this baby deer. I just hope there isn’t a mama deer missing it. When it is full grown, it will probably be about 2 or 3 feet high I imagine. The irony (well I think it is) is that Martha bought deer meat today at the market. Kathleen couldn’t figure out why there was a sudden ant infestation of the freezer. Martha bought maggoty meat. A ribcage and front hoof of deer, which is small enough to fit in a grocery bag. It was dried, but obviously she didn’t look to close when buying it, cause it was a bit rotten. Kathleen I think almost was sick. I cleaned the ants and maggots out of the freezer with some bleach and vim, but I wasn’t about to touch the bag of maggoty meat. Thankfully Kathleen has been here long enough to know that you burn them off. So she lit the coat pot (a bit like a habachi grill really) and then put the meat on it to fry the little maggots. They make a delightful popping sound as they burn up. Onesimus came to the rescue and helped get all the maggots, as some were inside the ribs etc. Is that enough to make anyone a vegetarian?

The Cold Shower (aka bucket bath)

June 27, 2006

Now I wanted to write about this, as it is a part of my every day. It is something I love, and something I dread. I think God invented it just for me, as He knew I would need a little something extra to get going in the morning. Now when I say shower I am sure you imagine cascades of water pouring down. This is not the right picture. I will explain. Here, we have a well. All the water for the house has to be pulled up by hand, in a bucket, just like little Jack and Jill (you know the ones that went up the hill). Yeah, so we have a water tank on top of the roof, but our pump is not strong enough to pull water from the well, so it is all done by hand. Onesimus, James and Kathleen's 18 year old foster son who lives here does the water once a week. It takes him quite a while to fill the barrels, which then we (and by we, I mean, him...not me, I have watched though) pump from the barrels on the ground to the tank on the roof. I think he said it takes 2 hours. So, you can imagine that we do not like to waste the water coming out of the tap. I like to try and fill one barrel myself each day (an equivalent of 11 bucketsful). We keep one in our bathroom, and several in the kitchen for washing and filling our water filter. I know you think I am a saint for filling my one barrel a day, but really I am quite self centred if I am honest. I figure if I pull one barrel of water a day, it will keep my arms toned. Anyhow, that is beside the point.
Lets get back to my shower. The kids all shower at night time, so they are fresh and can go to sleep. I shower in the morning. This is for the obvious reason, that I am not a morning person. When I am waking up, I am not thinking, yay, a new day, I am thinking, why oh why is it morning time already. I usually wait until after breakfast to shower, to let my body fully wake up. Sometimes, I dread the shower. I think, do I really need one, it is so cold. But I know, I need to. Then I go to the tub, fill up my water pitcher from the barrel, and then proceed to splash water all over myself. It is a slow process. I don’t just dump water on my head, I need to climatize, so I start with my forearms, then my arms, then my feet and calves and slowly I splash my way up my body, until I am wet all over, then I proceed to pour water over my head with a cup. After sudsing up, I rinse with what is left in the pitcher, then I do my final rinse cycle. This is with actual running water. The pressure is low though, and so to actually get under the stream of water, I plaster myself against the end of the tub and sorta splash around. I think James and Kathleen's shower is a little more functional than ours. Oh well, the running water is a new thing.
Its amazing this thing I dread...I can be grumpy and feeling slightly ill, like I have caught some mysterious african disease, and by the end of my shower I am as happy as a clam. The world is new again, and I am glad to be in it.
PS. I challenge you. Next time you shower, grab a bucket instead, and use only cold water. Try it, you’ll be amazed at how alive you feel at the end. Let me know how it works out for you.