Gifts from Afar

As we approach the Christmas season, it is a time to reflect on our blessings in life. Ben and I are reminded of our blessings every day, whether it is a neighbor delivering food to our house, receiving an email or call from a loved one back home, or just a student stopping by to talk a little and hang out with us. We are very thankful for all the generous and kind people here in Liberia and back home in the States, who continue to take care of us with their packages, calls and prayers.

A few months ago I was notified that a group of people from Brooklyn Park, MN would be visiting Liberia in November. For those of you who are unaware, Brooklyn Park, MN has a very large Liberian population (the largest outside of Liberia, as I’m told). Due to this close relationship, Brooklyn Park and Kakata, Liberia have become “sister cities”! Thanks to my grandmother’s involvement with the Brooklyn Park City Council, we were fortunate enough to meet-up with these generous people and share some of our experiences with them. Prior to their arrival, a couple of them emailed me and inquired if they could bring us any items. I casually mentioned a dictionary or two and maybe a couple coloring books. I had no idea that they would arrive as Santa’s elves with 15 dictionaries, 20 calculators, pens, pencils, paper, coloring books, markers, and a collection of other goodies. Ben and I were practically speechless upon receiving the items.

Bassa High receiving the dictionaries at devotion

The Brooklyn Park council members and staff also collaborated with students from North View Junior High in MN to donate items to our students at Bassa High School. The students generously donated North View t-shirts, key chains, chap sticks (known as wet-lips in Liberia), and post-it note pads.

The dictionaries were a MAJOR addition to our school’s library. Our school previously had only 2 dictionaries for over 850 students. Adding 15 dictionaries into the school’s busy library was a huge help to students trying to complete their assignments. Ben decided to distribute the calculators to high achieving 12th graders in Math. He gave half to his top students, and then the other half to students who improved their grade the most.

Students using the new dictionaries!

Calculators are out-of-reach for most students even at $5 US.

I decided to distribute the North View items to my English students. I rewarded students who dramatically improved their grade from 1st to 2nd period (usually going from failing to passing!). The students found it very encouraging, and were very grateful for the gifts. Thanks North View!

Key holders and post it notes (the students had never seen post-its before!)

A few students excited about their “wet lips” (chap stick)

Thanks North View!

In addition to items for Bassa High School students, the Brooklyn Park delegation and my grandparents also sent us gifts for the local orphanage near our house. I actually just delivered the items to the orphanage this afternoon for Christmas. I have been out to the orphanage a handful of times, and it’s always a warm-fuzzy feeling to ride my bicycle up the dirt road and have the kids calling “Anty Neejay is here!” Today was no different, and when I pulled the bag out from my bicycle basket containing coloring books, crayons, markers, and board reading booking; the children shrieked in joy. I’m confident those are the only toys they will be receiving this Christmas – so it was surely an exciting time. So, as they said, “Please tell your Ol’ Ma and Ol’ Pa thank you and God will bless them (Grandma and Grandpa that’s you!). And tell the big people in MN thank you too (Brooklyn Park – this is you!).

God’s Heritage Orphanage with the cutest little Liberian girl

Coloring books for Christmas!

Archie (the little man) says thank you!

Merry Christmas from God’s Heritage Orphanage!

Burglarized

On Friday, November 29^th, our house was burglarized.  We were not at home at the time.  Instead, we were enjoying an incredible Thanksgiving feast and homestay in Monrovia.  Our neighbors discovered the break-in and alerted us.  We immediately left our tranquil and plush surroundings to go assess the damages.

When we got home, we saw how the “rogues” (general term for criminals) entered the house.  Liberian homes are generally built with walls that are about eight feet high.  Drop-ceilings are then used to separate the living space from the heat and bugginess of the roof crawlspace.  To enter our house, the thieves broke into the drop ceiling on our front porch.  The material used for the ceiling was thin enough to be punched through with a fist.  They climbed up into the rafters, crawled over the concrete wall, and came down through the drop ceiling into the living room.  The rain was falling heavily that night on Liberia’s tin roofs, so all of this was done without detection.

Alternative entry into our house

From inside, the rogue or rogues had free reign and ample time to sort through everything in the house.  The place was a mess when we arrived.  Every piece of clothing, box, bag, bucket, container, etc. had been overturned and gone through.  From the looks of it, the burglars probably spent an hour or more inside.  They even used the commode (and rudely forgot to flush).  They took a wide range of items, from the obvious (electronics, flashlights) to the mundane (shampoo, blank printer paper, mens’ underwear).  Thankfully, we had all of our real valuables with us in Monrovia (computer, camera, passports, etc.).

The police were mostly unhelpful.  The one police detective who came to our house showed up on a motorbike-taxi and had to borrow our flashlight to write in his notebook.  He wasn’t even interested in seeing inside the house.  My follow-up visit to the police station the next day revealed that he hadn’t even filed a report.  We now understand the frustration of living in a place with no real law enforcement.  The police are underfunded, so they can’t do much.  We live in a large city and the police force has one vehicle.  In any case, we knew our call to the police would be a formality for all concerned.

Upon our return to the house, we were met by our school principal and vice principal.  They helped us to line up a carpenter to fix the ceiling (at 9:00pm on a national holiday).  We couldn’t sleep with a gaping hole in the ceiling.  They were very kind and helped us get back into the house the same night.  The next day the carpenter came again to replace the flimsy drop ceiling on the porch with stronger plywood.  We are happy with the results and are sleeping well again.

This brings up the topic of Liberian home security.  In Liberian standards, our house is pretty secure.  Iron doors in front and back, bars on all windows.  But obviously, the rogues found a way in.  The only sure method of preventing a burglary is to have someone staying in the house at all times.  One difference between our house and that of a typical Liberian home is that our house sometimes can be empty.  Not only at night, but at any point during the day.  Most Liberian homes have 10-15 people living in them.  And at every minute of the day and night, someone can be there.  It is just not possible for everyone to leave.  Because of “rogues business,” it’s just not wise to leave the house unattended.  So what does that mean for us?  It means having someone housesit for us.  Now, this is a pretty routine thing in the States, but here it is not so straight-forward.  For the first one-plus years of being in Liberia, we couldn’t even consider it.  We didn’t know people well enough to trust them to stay in our house.  But now that we have some trusted friends and students, and we have seen the consequences of an empty house, having a housesitter is the way to go in the future.  The arrangement is simple.  We lock everything we care about in our own bedroom.  The rest of the house is locked and one person is given the key.  That person will sleep in our house and when dawn comes, will go to their own home and go about their business.  When dusk comes, they return to our house and bed down for the night.  As long as they are there to scare away any intruders, the house will be safe.

Being a rogue in Liberia is risky business.  Law enforcement and the justice system are dysfunctional at best and sometimes non-existent.  Police are ill-equipped for fighting crime – no cars, radios, or guns (guns are banned in Liberia, even for police).  Consequently, citizens feel vulnerable, helpless, and completely without recourse when it comes to crime.  Without security provided by an effective police force, citizens take the law into their own hands.  The phrase “take the law into your own hands” sounds cliché, like something straight out of the cinema.  But in post-war Liberia it is the reality.  If a criminal is spotted, he will be chased by ordinary people.  They will run behind the perpetrator yelling repeatedly, “Rogue! Rogue! Rogue!”  Any other citizen who hears the calls will join in the chase.  The crowd grows with every passing moment.  If the criminal is eventually caught, he risks being beaten or even killed.  Ask any local and they will tell you that the police are not a deterrent, so the only way to deal with criminals is through drastic means.  And while this approach is still very alien and repugnant to us, we understand it is the environment in which we live.

All told, we are mildly annoyed at the inconvenience of losing our things.  We feel violated, too.  But we aren’t angry or feeling resentful towards the community.  In fact, we are now closer to the community.  We have experienced what so many others already have – the fear, the frustration, the hopelessness.  But the storm has passed and we are safe.  Our house is fixed.  We are sleeping at night.  We have learned a lot.  In the future, we will take precautions when leaving the house.  It’s taken us some time to get in the right mindset, but we know what we have to do.  Someone we trust we will sleep in our house, so wherever we are, we will be sleeping better, too.

Simple Expression

Liberians have some interesting speech patterns.  One of them is the use of simple phrases that seem short but, in fact, carry a lot of meaning.  They are said unprompted, but in a tone resembling a response to the question “What happened to you?”  The following is a list of such phrases that I’ve heard during our time here.

The rain.

The mud.

The heat.

The dust.

The ants.

The sun.

The noise.

The Methodists.

By the tone, you’ve probably guessed that these phrases represent things that often give people a hard time.  (The Methodists were indicted due to their tendency toward lengthy church offerings.)  To the list, I would add my own:

The shouting.

The beer.

The children.

Simple says it all.

More to come in the future on Liberian English.