Visiting Villages

Last week, I made a trip 2 hours north into Lofa County. I stayed at a lady’s house who is also a volunteer through Global Mission. I stayed there for three days and had two opportunities to go out to villages with the hospital’s community outreach team. Their primary focus is Malaria screening, vaccinations, dispensing medication and prenatal check-ups. Without this team, many villages would have no access to a health care team. They are a very hard working team driving hours to visit villages and sometimes walking 6 to 10 hours to villages that are not accessible by vehicle.
Day 1, Bromi Hills: Early Thursday morning, we left to visit this village about 90 minutes away from Zorzor (the town that I was staying in). Driving to Bromi Hills, I got to see a different landscape than what surrounds Phebe. The rainforest is much more dense and there are mountains that line the horizon, it is beautiful.
When we arrived at the village, the town chief welcomed us to his village. Two of the team members then ushered me into someone’s house and handed me a cup full of palm wine. Palm wine is naturally fermented in the trunk of a palm tree and, when freshly harvested, is very sweet, although has a pungent odor (similar to that of vomitus…). After having my taste of palm wine, we were ready to set up the clinic! The village had a church building so we set up there and for about 3 hours, I helped with prenatal checks and general assessments. When we were through, we walked backed down into the village area and, of course, drank more palm wine! Now, I must say that the alcohol content of palm wine is probably pretty low, although I only had about a cup total.
From there we drove to other villages, announcing that the team would be coming next week to visit their village. At one of the places we stopped there was a baby chimp being protected by a family from hunters. He is for sale for $600 USD, if anyone is interested.

Day 2, Torpkah: Friday, we drove to a village about 45 minutes away where we parked the vehicle, drank some palm wine and began a 90 minute hike to the village we would spend the day at. Luckily, I was wearing my Chacos because this was a good hike! We crossed much water, climbed over roots of trees that were incredibly huge (how many thousands of years have these trees been here, I wondered) and did a fair share of climbing steep inclines. When we arrived at the village, a cola nut dropped from a tree right in our path and I took it as a good sign. Not only that, but when walking into the village, the radio was blaring “Last night, a DJ saved my life…” I knew it was going to be a good time. After resting (and drinking more palm wine) we were ready to start the clinic. I was walking over to where we were setting up and a woman asked if I wanted to chop some wood. I said yes and she handed me her axe. As I began hacking away, I noticed that the entire village was gathered around watching me chop wood. A woman approached me with a hollowed out can and acted as though she was taking my picture. It was so embarrassing and hilarious!
Before the clinic began, the village welcomed us with two live chickens, some cola nuts and 10 Liberian Dollars. This is tradition that shows the new comers that they are welcome into the village. (This ceremony took place in another language so I was not aware that one of the chickens was mine until we were back at the hospital…). For this clinic, I worked with Moore who is in charge of vaccines and malaria screening. Never have I made so many children cry! I would cry too if an unfamiliar white woman wearing bright blue gloves was approaching me with a sharp object to test my blood! After many, many positive malaria tests, our clinic was through—now for some lunch! Rice was served, along with Bat stew. I had thought that those chickens were going to be killed and served as our lunch. So, when I saw the small-bodied creatures, I asked “Chicken?” praying that it was. “No, it’s bat!” Now earlier in the day, someone had showed me a few bats that had been dried and smoked. I realized then, that they were showing me the precious meats we would be eating later. I probably should have eaten the bat meat, but all I could think about was rabies or some crazy bat disease. I figured that eating the juices from the bat was close enough.

Rice and Soup: A Taste of Liberia

One thing that helps adjusting to a whole new country and culture is good food. I cannot complain about the food here one bit. I am surrounded by organic farms, and I eat of their fruits on a daily basis.

For breakfast, there is a one-burner gas stove that does not require any electricity to use. Since I’m usually making breakfast just after the electricity is turned off (7 AM), I poach an egg that was hatched by a free range chicken and eat it over a piece of bread. There really aren’t that many fences here, so the chickens have claim over any land that they want—and they do take advantage of that. Chickens and roosters are everywhere-- along with stray dogs, which I want to take one in as a pet while I’m here. (Although, no dog can replace Toby).

Stephen is the cook/security for our house during the day. He is a professional at making rice and soup, which is usually the menu for lunch every day. Soup in Liberia is made from the following ingredients: a chicken bouillon cube, onions, a vegetable (ranging from okra, potato greens, squash, cassava—which has the flavor and consistency of a potato) and two very spicy peppers. This combination is then cooked until all ingredients are well cooked down. Along with this spicy dish is served fresh pineapple, mangoes (although, they are now out of season) and currently, I am enjoying papaya.

Dinner is sometimes leftovers, but more often than not, there is some meal created out of the food from the local markets and the canned goods purchased in Monrovia. I have enjoyed meatless tacos made in a toaster oven and spaghetti with mushrooms in a garlic butter sauce.

On the other end of the spectrum, for as much food as Liberia is capable of producing, malnutrition is a huge problem. At Phebe Hospital, there is a Special Nutrition Unit that is funded by Unicef in order to treat severely malnourished children. I heard about a boy who had drank caustic, mistaking it for water. He was already a very small boy, but now that his esophagus was basically burned through, he was unable to eat and gain the weight that his body so desperately needs.

One day, while sitting at the nurses station, I saw this boy wandering out of the Pediatric Ward, looking a little lost. He was so tiny that every bone in his body was visible. I couldn’t believe how much his pelvic bones were showing through his skin. I beckoned him over to me and tried to talk to him, but wasn’t sure if he understood English. A nurse and I returned him to the Special Nutrition Unit, where I learned that he was playing soccer with his friends and got really thirsty so he drank what he thought was water from a bucket.

Just the other day, another child came into the ER four days after drinking caustic. I looked into his mouth and saw that the roof of his mouth was completely eroded down to the bone. It is very sad to see.

On a positive note, the first boy I talked about got to go home today, which was a very happy event.

This is a picture of me with my friend Joyce. She is a nursing student at Cuttington University, which is close to Phebe. She and her family live down the road from my house and they are planting country rice. She is going to let me work on her farm for a day and experience life as a Liberian farmer. I'm looking forward to it!

Guns, Rebels and War

Just a week ago, I became fully aware that I am living in a post-civil war country. Not too far from where I am living is the Bangladesh headquarters because Bong County is the Bangladesh Section for Liberia (each county is guarded by a different country that makes up the UN). But, when you walk passed it every day, it almost feels normal to see a few men in a watch tower holding guns and their headquarters surrounded by fences and barbwire.

Now, more than ever, I am convicted about the anticlimactic effects that war has on a country. Talking to people about their stories during the war is devastating, Many of them went to the refugee camps in the Ivory Coast, but many people could not flee and had to hide out in the bush. A few nights ago, I was talking to some guys who had almost been captured by the rebels to become one of them.

Here, many young men drive motorbikes and many of them were the rebels that fought against their own people. After the war, the government gave money to the rebels if they turned in their weapons, hoping that they would invest it in education. Some did, but many bought motorbikes.

So, here I am, in Liberia, 6 years after the war has ended. I know that Liberia has made a lot of progress, but it is clear that the war disrupted so many lives. There is a whole generation that did not receive any schooling and many adolescents whose parents were killed in the war. Liberia is a country of orphans, displaced peoples. The ground is littered with garbage, which I was told used to be huge piles of garbage that people would have to walk over. Frames of houses that were being built during the war are now abandoned. The church here was starting to build at a new location, but that has been put on hold for many years now. The hospital was completely destroyed. In fact, there was a massacre at Phebe Hospital, when the rebels came in and just started shooting everyone that was hiding out in the building.

Think of all the countries that go to war. I can’t help but think of Iraq and how many children have lost their parents and will never know peace. Soon, we will pull out the troops and then what? Leave them to sort things out after years of war?

Liberian English

It will not come as a surprise to all to learn that Liberians have their own version of English. From my time here so far, I have learned to incorporate this into my everyday vocabulary—especially when performing assessments at the hospital.

Small small; this word is used to indicate a very small amount. I find great humor in this phrase and use it in a serious manner to others while amusing myself. For example: I ask, “Are you eating?” If the answer if yes, I ask, “small small?” Oddly enough, the word tiny is thrown around every now and then, but small small is the popular choice.

Pass water: this phrase means so much more than filling a glass with water from the faucet and passing it to someone else. Passing water in Liberia is a euphemism for public urination. My first encounter with public urination was the day after I arrived in Monrovia. I was taking pictures of a street to get a view of the city, and when I looked at it afterwards, I noticed that I also captured a man urinating on the street. (Note man near bushes in picture)
The first time I heard “pass water” was that same day when we were driving back to Phebe from Monrovia. The car pulled over on the side of the rode and the driver explained that he had to pass water. Someone in the car informed me at that time that passing water means urinating—usually in public.

It is clear that public urination is a problem all over Liberia, especially when there are huge signs declaring, “No peepee, No poopoo here, only dogs.”

Running stomach: now, this term is self-explanatory but, again, is another word that I have incorporated in order to perform assessments. And, when people here are frequently diagnosed with dysentery, usually from bacteria in the drinking water, it is helpful to know if they have running stomach.

Palay is the native tongue of the county in which I am living. It is a difficult language to learn and I have not made much progress beyond simple greetings.