Trash to Toy Transformation

Our household trash isn’t particularly interesting. We burn paper to start our coal pot, and we compost our food waste. What remains is mostly plastic bags and packaging from our trips to the market. Thankfully, there isn’t too much. When the trash can fills up, we dispose of the waste by throwing it into the tall grass behind our house. We are slightly ashamed of this, but we don’t have much choice in the matter. The city doesn’t offer household waste pickup, and the only other option is to burn our own garbage. We opt for out-of-sight-out-of-mind. So it’s good we only throw out a small bag every couple of weeks.

There are plenty of items we discard that we would normally recycle in America. Unfortunately, Liberia doesn’t have recycling at the moment. It does, however, have something better – reuse! Instead of recycling, we set aside much of our trash in what we have dubbed the “Bonus Bag.” Things like tin cans, bottles, boxes, and any potentially useful thing makes it into the Bonus Bag. When the bag is full, we give it to one or more lucky kids. Yes, lucky. Don’t get me wrong – we don’t consider the kids lucky. They consider themselves lucky. Through their creativity and ingenuity, a load of our trash is like a delivery of new toys.

Here are some discarded items that have been given new life as toys:

Tire and two sticks = Motorcycle

Bicycle rim and stick = Chase the Wheel

Motor oil bottle and milk cans = Race Car

Sock, rocks, string, and stick = Foot Tetherball

Plastic bags, sticks, string = Kite

Creative energy flowing

Paper = Boats and Hats

Tin cans = Campfire Cookware

Now with real fire!

Extension cord = Jumprope

Paper towel tube = Vuvuzela (just in time for World Cup)

Other noteworthy homemade toys:
– Ball from roll-on deodorant, bucket lid = Paddle Ball Game
– D-cell battery terminals, string = String Ninja Battle Game
– Bottle caps = Soccer Game
– Sardine can, string = Speed Boat

The transformation from trash to toy is remarkable. Items that would slowly decay on the dumpsite are reused in a way that allows kids to express themselves, experiment, and have something constructive to do. Our “garbage” gets reused well beyond its intended purpose and lifespan. Best of all, it gives the local kids much more than just a toy.

Coloring Club

In addition to toys, the neighborhood kids have really enjoyed using the coloring books and crayons that have been so generously sent to us. The kids turn in out in droves to color mermaids, giraffes, footballs, and teddy bears. They color some pictures with exquisite detail, but strangely, the kids never want to carry the sheet home. (They probably want their picture to get a coveted spot on our back porch wall.)

Coloring Club

The local children love coloring. The frequency of visits from the kids have led some locals to joke about Nejay’s Day Care Service. Some of Angie’s favorite times in Liberia are hanging out with the neighborhood kids on the front porch. She is looking forward to the end of school so she can restart the summer Coloring Club.

Angie once recorded thirty-five children coloring

The Raining Season

The Raining Season
by Benjamin Swanson

Whispers on tin
A little bit distant
Arrive as a haughty roar.
Take cover!
Souls scatter, tings over their heads.
Hushed and waiting
Life breathes through doorways
Prayers the storm will pass.

Monkey Island

Not too far from Monrovia is a little-known place, fraught with mystery, curiosity, and an irresistible allure. Welcome to Monkey Island!

Monkey Island is actually a series of small islands located at the confluence of three rivers in Liberia’s Montserrado County. Contrary to the name, the islands house no monkeys. Instead, the islands are home to dozens of apes – all former research chimpanzees.

In the pre-war era, both the Center for Disease Control (CDC) and the National Institute of Health (NIH) had research facilities in Liberia. During the laboratories’ span of operations, they did extensive hepatitis and typhoid research on animals, most notably chimpanzees. When the civil war broke out in the early 1990’s, the research labs closed down. It was decided that the chimps should be retired from research and given their own tropical island on which to live. A grant was established to pay for land, care, and feeding. Thus, Monkey Island was born.

Across the waters in a hollow tree trunk.

1-manpower engine

When people hear about Monkey Island, they can’t resist its charming appeal. After all, who wouldn’t want to visit an island full of cute, funny monkeys? However, when people see the islands and their startling inhabitants, they experience an entirely different set of emotions.

Monkey Island was not created as a tourist destination. There is no organized tour. Instead, the trip to the island starts with negotiations with local fishermen. The only way to the island is in a local fishing boat. Once a price is agreed upon, visitors buy food in the village to carry to island. Bananas, donuts, or candy are recommended. Visitors, toting ample chimp-chow, are paddled across the water in a large dugout canoe. Approaching the island, a large signboard posted several meters from the overgrown shoreline warns, “Danger! Keep out!” Upon rounding a bend in the river and reaching the first clearing, you come face to face with the islands’ famed residents.

Our first meeting with the chimps

Each island hosts a dozen or more chimpanzees, and during feeding times, they appear in numbers. Contrary to most visitors’ preconceptions, the chimps are neither cute nor cuddly. These notions are dashed at first glimpse of the animals. In a word, the chimps are fearsome. Each one is as large as a grown man and three times as muscular. The chimps are feral and visibly aggressive. As evidence of this, even the caretaker cannot set foot on the island at the risk of being attacked.

Keeping a safe distance.

Furthermore, the chimps’ history as former research animals will cause you to keep your distance. You can’t help but wonder what kind of treatment they went through, and possibly still remember. It’s anyone’s guess what diseases they might be carrying. To top it all off, many of the animals have large hemorrhoid-like growths coming out of their rear ends. All this pretty much kills the cute factor.

That doesn’t look comfortable at all.

Fearsome as they are, the chimps are also fascinating. There is a very obvious social hierarchy on the island. There is a particular feeding order based on strength and seniority. When the chimps are being fed, either by the caretakers or by a boatload of banana-chucking visitors, they will scuffle for food. But the social order plays out quickly and without too much violence. The chimps’ movements, gestures, and interactions are eerily human-like. As our closest genetic relative, that’s not surprising. Still, their behavior and their dark, penetrating eyes hint at a deep, unexpected intelligence.

The chimps’ gaze can be very intense.

Mimicking the Liberian “begging” gesture.

Monkey Island has a decidedly cool-and-creepy vibe. It is like something out of a science fiction novel. For those of us with an overly-developed imagination, the island conjures up scenarios involving accelerated evolution, disease outbreaks, and man-versus-ape combat. In reality, the chimps have been sterilized and, therefore, cannot reproduce. Their numbers, theoretically, will naturally decrease as the years and decades pass. However, the island, with its mysterious, marooned inhabitants, renders visitors wide-eyed and wondering, “Will life find a way?”

Living with History

Recently, some friends and I visited a series of small villages in rural Liberia. On our trip we met a man that made a big impression on me. Later, I learned how knowing someone’s history can dramatically effect your view of them today.

I met Prince as we passed through one of the small villages on our path into the bush. As we approached the first cluster of mud huts, he greeted us in a friendly manner. Immediately I could tell that he wasn’t from the area. He had a brighter-than-average complexion and his manner of speaking was uncharacteristic of the locals. Despite the smell of locally-made liquor on his breath, Prince had a suave, controlled way about him. He spoke with clear, refined speech, and in spite of his inebriation, his demeanor and style were refreshing. I asked him where he came from originally. He seemed reluctant to answer the question, which piqued my interest. Slightly dodging the question, Prince said he wasn’t Liberian biologically, but that he had been living in the area for a long time. I was curious to know where this unusual man had come from. We continued chatting, and he mentioned he was a doctor. Seizing another opportunity to divine his origins, I asked where he had received his education. Finally giving in, he admitted, “I’m Gambian by heritage.” Cheerfully, I told him how Angie and I had recently travelled to The Gambia. Prince and I talked briefly about the country, his birthplace, which tribe he came from, and his native language. It was an enjoyable conversation, but it was short-lived. Unfortunately, my group was just passing through and we all bade Prince goodbye.

As we hiked down the dirt path toward the next village, I reflected on my encounter with Prince. He and I hadn’t talked very long, but Prince had made a strong impression on me. I was quite curious to know what had brought him so far into Liberia’s interior. Our guide – a young man named Joseph – told us a little more about Prince. Joseph explained that Prince had been educated as a doctor and once had worked at a large hospital in Monrovia. At some point, Prince had become disillusioned with the job and he came to this tiny village to practice medicine on his own. I was impressed by Prince’s willingness to share his skill with people who otherwise did not have access to good healthcare. My esteem for Prince grew as I listened to Joseph talk. Still interested, I asked what had carried Prince to Liberia. Then Joseph shocked me. Almost casually, he mentioned that during the Liberian civil war Prince had been recruited by Charles Taylor to train child soldiers.

My resulting mixture of feelings illustrates a subtle, yet important aspect of life in Liberia. There are a lot of people still around who were involved in the country’s devastating civil war. Generals, officers, perpetrators, rebels, combatants, child soldiers – whatever their role in the war – are living ordinary lives. They are taxi drivers, laborers, students – even senators. Angie and I see them every day, whether we know it or not. We are unique in that, usually, we don’t know it. Only in rare circumstances do we learn about someone’s role in the war. Even in our school, we know there are students in the classroom who, as mere children, were involved in the war. But we don’t ask which ones they are, and rarely do they tell. In fact, we prefer not to know, instead letting our students be students. (On one rare occasion, a student revealed to Angie in his English class journal his former role as a child soldier.)

It is good to know a person, but knowing that person’s history can skew your perspective. This is particularly true in cases of crime or violence. Will you look at that person the same way knowing that, long ago, he did some very bad things? Can you continue to like that person? Will you judge him? Can you still trust him? Should you avoid him? There are no clear answers. In the case of Prince, I still have a positive view of him. But learning about his role in the war definitely makes me think twice. If I saw him again, I’m not sure what I’d do. I don’t know if his current-day charm would attract me, or if his tainted history would repulse me. I ask myself whether Prince is leading an altruistic lifestyle, or is he merely hiding? I just don’t know what to think.

This is exactly the feeling that many Liberians experience on a daily basis. Most Liberians have a good idea of who previously fought in the war. In fact, some people regularly see ex-combatants with whom they had tragic encounters. Whether someone was a victim or not, it is unclear how they should feel when they learn about their neighbor’s checkered past. There are deep wounds that still haven’t healed since the conflict ended ten years ago. Forgiveness and reconciliation are major initiatives of the government and the United Nations, touting that, “If Liberia wants to move forward, we must forgive and forget!” But for many, forgiveness and reconciliation are a long way off. History shouldn’t be forgotten, but as for Liberians, they wrestle with knowing eachother’s histories all too well.

Our students are just students.