Exceeded Expectations and a Trip to Sierra Leone

Day 6

So much to talk about. So many pictures to share.

I'll break this post into three sections.

1. Exceeded expectations
2. Our excursion to Sierra Leone
3. Stories

Exceeded expectations, in Tim's words:

We have wrapped the two-day workshop for over 60 of the nation's top youth leaders. The challenge is not whether one can convince Liberia that our help is valuable, it is going to be how to meet the demand. We have tripled the number of workshops originally planned for the trip. All this means your donations continue to be needed urgently for us to follow all the way through. Again, thank you.

Please go to our GoFundMe and help however you can:

https://www.gofundme.com/africanliteracy

Our excursion to Sierra Leone was today's adventure. First off, as I mentioned in an earlier post, having to switch locations for the two-day workshop meant we had to find a use for the $2000 food order. The solution happened today: feeding the Amazing Grace Orphanage in Painesville.

The coastal country of Sierra Leone is on the northwest border of Liberia, about a three-hour drive. The trip took us through the middle of Monrovia: downtown, the port, the oldest and currently poorest section, and the outskirts. Then across the rural lands. We made our way through Vaitown, Claratown, Freeport, Jamaica Road Junction, Logantown, Bushrod Island, Caldwell Island, St. Paul Bridge and Hotel Africa Junction.  What a trip!  

The bridge we crossed to get into Sierra Leone was special to Jay. During the height of the civil war when he was a young boy, it was where he and his family sprinted across in the middle of the night after having snuck out of the rebel leader's holding tent. He was told to run as fast as he could and not look back. It was their escape from the horrors of the war.

Pictures and highlights:

Boys on the roadside during our (shakedown) traffic stop. 

• Along the length of the route, we stopped and many checkpoints. Some were for health: We had to get out of the truck and wash our hands in chlorine water before proceeding. Many were for border crossing as we entered and left Sierra Leone. By the way, I am certain your vision of what a checkpoint for a border crossing or health check looks like is very different from what ours was today. See the photo below. The third type of checkpoint was, as Jay described it after we were passed through, a chance for off-duty police to make extra money. They had set up a homemade checkpoint with an official vehicle, a rope across the road and uniformed officers on both sides. They made us stop and went on to explain there was something they saw on the plates that concerned them. Jay got out of the truck and spoke with the officers behind he vehicle. While he did this, two young boys approached the side of the car I was on. This is the photo above. Jay returned to the driver's seat a $10 (Liberian) poorer, having "donated" to the officer for him to care for his family. The cost of living in Liberia, Jay calmly assured us and we rolled on down the road. 

• From a lady selling on the roadside, we ate a homemade snack called pepper kala. Super tasty, fresh, yummy. They were basically spicy donut holes. They were quite good. Jay paid her triple the price so she could enjoy her weekend.
• We drove over the St. Paul, Bo and the Mafa Rivers. Saw fishermen, bathers, and families doing laundry.

• Jay made an impromptu roadside stop in Sass Town to speak to a gathering of women. After some small talk with the leader, he told them he was going to give them money for water. They were exuberant. That is the opening photo.
• We drove behind not one but two out-of-the-car passengers both wearing thin flip-flop sandals. One guy was standing on the bumper holding huge things on the roof. The other guy was standing on one foot on the trailer hitch. Both vehicles were traveling at 60 mph!

• In addition to official checkpoints, we drove over many homemade speedbumps. These were piles of dirt spread out over the width of the road to slow traffic. They popped up where there were small towns. They slowed traffic for safety. Speaking of traffic safety. I've said it before and I'll say it again. The traffic and roads are UNREAL. No signs, no lines, frequent potholes, missing asphalt, gullies, ruts. Huge swaths of land burned for farming. We saw burnt plots and burning fires. Drivers are free to pass as they see fit. Speeds are up to the driver. People on foot carrying all sorts of odds and ends (often on their heads) crowd the edges of the roads. Motorcylists carry one, two, sometimes three passengers (four adults on a bike!) Honking for everything. Get out of my way. I'm passing. Hurry up. Hello. Goodbye. Don't cross. Cross. Jay is a genius driver. We call him JPS.  

• Xane and I made an effort to wave, smile and nod to every child we saw. They always reacted in kind.
• The villages, towns and dwellings were definitely rural. Huts and homes made of sticks, mud and thatch. 

• Our drive through the city yielded a visit from a policeman. Though, like the checkpoints, I am sure your vision of a policeman and the gentleman we encountered today are very different. Our man was on an old motorbike, his uniform was part policeman, part comfortable shoes. He was fairly old and quite small. We accidentally turned onto a one-way street and had to navigate through oncoming traffic, including two schoolbuses on either side of the street. Hairy! 
• The pass through the city took us into the poorest, most crowded neighborhoods. In the middle of the busiest, loudest, dirtiest section there was a man sleeping on the low street-level median. Only pictures will suffice to describe the area. Two marketplaces.

• I got to drive in Gendema, Sierra Leone. This was on a hilly, rutted, dirt road. Loved it! Xane laughed pretty much the entire time. Jay checked his texts.

• Crossing the border from Liberia to Sierra Leone was not a simple affair. It involved visits to different immigration commanders on both sides, bringing along a Liberian official to get us past the checkpoints, following a motorcycle-riding border guide and a $25 Liberian handshake with Immigration Commander, Col. F. Tweh Sr. of the Bo Waterside Port of Entry.

•  Photos from the border.

• On the return trip through the city we stopped at a light and were besieged by a small group of beggars, some of which were blind. Jay kindly offered some cash with verbal instructions to make sure the intended recipients received their gifts. He forgot to offer the youngest girl a flower he had picked so I took up the task. I rolled down the window and looked at her. Her eyes sparked. I offered the flower, she sneered and turned from me with a tsk. 
• We stopped at a twelve-bay car wash located next to a river. It was pretty well put together and organized. They had pressure washing. But the real amazing thing was that every cleaner had to rush to the river and fill large buckets to do their jobs. We're talking multiple trips. Very hard workers who did the job well. 

Some stories to share. I wrote these the other day when I didn't have Internet. 

Friday, 6:54:22 am (2:54:22 am Florida time), sitting in bed at Jay’s house. Today we carry out our second day of delivery for the two-day workshop. I have a few minutes before I have to get ready to go. I wanted to tell you about my new friend and Xane’s new “friend”.

On Wednesday night, when we returned to the house for the evening I found that one of my open suitcases had little piles of sunflower seed shells on the bottom. I dug through the case and found the sunflower seed package had been nibbled into and left with a few holes. Obviously, a small creature had found it and taken advantage of the plentiful food. On Thursday morning, I did a very thorough job of cleaning out my bags and cases, zipping them tightly and storing them in hard-to-reach places in the room, as best as I could.

When we returned home last night, Thursday, I saw no evidence of the visitor. I got ready for bed and set up my laptop atop my bed for some final adjustments to the slide show for the second half of our workshop. After about twenty minutes of typing, the sound of skittering little feet caught my attention. I figured this must be my visitor. The noises were quiet enough that it was clear, the owner of the busy legs was small. I hoped it was a small mouse. I feared it was a lizard, or worse, some creature unknown to me. I attentively watched where the noise was coming from, the back of my gray suitcase. Thirty seconds later, a small gray mouse appeared on top of this case. I looked on as it sniffed this way and that then disappeared to the back side of the case. For the next thirty minutes, I tapped away on my keyboard and listened for the mouse. Every few minutes it scratched here and there behind the big objects in the room. I figured there was no use trying to catch it, or chase it out the door, it being small, fast and much more familiar with the small cracks and crevices of the house than me. I had mouse-proofed my possessions as best as I could. 

Taking comfort in my preparations, I turned off he light and started to doze. For some time into the night, my little friend would quietly skitter about the room. I figured as long as he was far from the bed and I knew where he was, I could sleep in peace. Turned out to be a fine night of sleep. Stay tuned.

Xane’s “friend” was much more friendly than mine, and his story took place last night as well, Thursday. However, they met at the hotel by the pool. It started with our need for a collection of rocks for a demo kit for the next day’s presentation. It was around 10:00 PM. I was in the dining room working on the presentation. Xane went off to find rocks for the kit. Out the doors, he went towards the pool and beach. Some fifteen minutes later I began to wonder where he was. Not too much after, he returned to the dining room with a towel as a carrier for a handful of rocks and an expression on his face of bemused fear. He rushed to me, sat down and with a nervous “Oh my God!” Proceeded to tell me what had just happened, what had filled him with such nervous agitation.

He was out beyond the pool, close to the ocean looking for rocks. It was dark, the area poorly lit. Most of the illumination coming from the moon and some lights scattered around the hotel property. As he made his way back to the hotel with his collection he passed a lady sitting on a pool chair at the furthest end of the pool. She said hello, he replied in kind. The conversation continued, 

“What’s your name?”

“Xane.”

The small talk didn’t last long before her proposition. She made a very clear and graphic offer of a massage and much more. Xane was stunned but not tongue tied. He politely turned down her offer, got our of there as fast as possible and headed promptly to the hotel. One of the guards who roam the property was near, approached Xane and asked if he was okay. Xane said he was and explained what the lady had just offered. 

He made it back to the hotel, entered near one of the conference halls, and phoned his girlfrend. They spoke on the phone, Xane detailing the experience he just had, as he wandered through the hotel halls. Next thing he knew, his lady of the night friend was at a hotel window beckoning him. He rushed to find me in the dining room, hung up the phone and excitedly told me his story. Some five minutes later his new lady friend was at the dining room window calling for our attention. We ignored her as best as we could until she drifted away. We spent much time thereafter recounting what had just happened, trying to make sense of it all, laughing and added it to the long list of adventures that has made this entire trip an exhilarating experience in every way.

Another character we came across was the gentleman who crossed our path on Tuesday. This man was, as Tim put it, the most messed up person he had seen in a long, long time. We had just left the Cathedral Catholic School, and the four of us were making our way through the throng of students, street sellers and pedestrians headed for the car. 

The three white Americans in our four person group stand out here. We receive a lot of looks of interest and curiosity. As we made it to our truck one fellow seemed to lock on to us and beelined for the truck. The first indication of his instability was his glazed eyes and his path of travel. He walked straight for us, cutting through walkers, cars and motorcyles, over the sidewalk, across the street. The next indication of his instability was everything else. He was rapping a song, parroting the same phrase over and over. His clothes were a mess: dirty, disheveled, torn here and there, too big for his skinny body. Hair matted and dready. Everyone ignored him. Schoolgirls in their colorful, matching uniforms didn’t even glance his way. School boys in their bright white tops minded their own business. But he was not ignoring us. When he was within a few feet of the truck we could see that his dirty pants were down around his ankles, and his even dirtier underwear around his knees. He was holding his crotch, partially covered by his baggy shirt with his left hand as he gesticulated in rhythm to his rap with his right. He shuffled to the passenger side of the car and pressed up against the door, the door I was to enter. I forced Xane to let me in his door as the crazed man rapped away, oblivious to the scene he was causing, unaware of everything in fact. Jay gave him one last command to get out of the way and we sped down the street.

Last night, Friday night, the four of us sat in the hotel dining room chit chatting, reading success stories and talking of what the weekend had in store. Jay, in his cheerful way proceeded to tell us the not good news that the neighboring country of Guinea had just reported a case of ebola. The significance of this, besides the word “ebola”, was that we were hoping to take an excursion to the up-country towards Guinea to see the beautiful landscape one day. 

With all the precautions one takes when visiting West Africa (yellow fever vaccine, daily malaria medicine, chlorine hand wash stations, diarhea pills) every time Xane and I cough or sneeze or sniffle or our stomachs gurgle, it’s impossible not to pause and wonder. I am in constant self-assessment mode with my body health. Monitoring every function, feeling for any suboptimum reaction. It is an interesting state of affairs.

Having said that, knowing all the craziness and problems of this underdeveloped country, I’ve loved every minute of the entire experience and 100% plan on returning. Xane and I center much of our conversations around what an amazing place this is. Life-changing, inspiring, uplifting.

Until tomorrow...