It's a Blog Post

Transportation

The transportation system in Liberia has a unique paradigm. If you want to get somewhere you stand on the side of the road and hold your hand out. Taxis that are accepting passengers will also honk inquisitively at people walking down the road to inform you they are currently looking for passengers. In Liberia taxi means a car, usually yellow, that stops and picks up passengers and generally as many as possible. There are also designated spots on the road, usually at a major intersection, where taxis will stop and you can also walk to one of these and wait for a car to stop. These areas can be chaotic because if a lot of people are waiting for a ride they will literally swarm the car like a school of sharks on insert something clever here. It’s transportation Darwinism at its finest, only the fittest get a ride.

Most vehicles double as a small, mobile church because when you ride in one it’s usually an exercise in finding religion. Mentally, I’m screaming a prayer to sweet baby Jesus as we speed down the street narrowly missing pedestrians and other vehicles. But you do have to admire that the drivers here seem to share some sort of neural network in which they know exactly what everyone else is going to do and consistently miss each other by inches because of it. To get out of my work compound and get to my home compound you have to turn left out onto the street. The left hand path has always been scary but Liberia takes it to the nth degree. First, people coming from the left will never stop on their own for you. You have to edge the car out ever so slowly until you’re entirely blocking both lanes of traffic. Then you have to hope that someone in the far lane will let you in. If Liberians are anything, they are possessive over their roads. At times, it seems like they would rather hit the person in front of them by following them too closely than let a car turn left in front of them. It’s harrowing to say the least to see a Mack truck barreling down the road at you while the car in the far lane is doing its best conjoined twin impression with the bumper of the vehicle in front of them.

They also use motorcycles as taxis here, which is not something I saw in Guyana. I don’t think I’d use one unless it really was a last resort. Some of my readers are aware that I am a bit of a motorcycle enthusiast, I rode one around for the year between graduating Oregon State and joining the Peace Corps. What really strikes me as interesting, and I noticed this in Guyana as well, is the skill of the riders here. Back home, on flat roads with predictable traffic, I had a 500cc (that’s the engine size) bike that I loved. Riding with a passenger was terrible though. It removed all maneuverability and fun from the bike. Essentially, a bigger engine size obviously means the bike is more powerful which means it should be able to carry more weight more easily. Now if my 500cc bike has issues with carrying two people I can’t even imagine what it’s like for the taxi guys here who I’ve seen take two or three people at a time on their little 125cc or 250cc bikes. That has to be absolutely no fun at all.

Regular Life Stuff

In the last week I’ve been feverishly working on this DBT training, it starts next Monday. I just killed a bunch of trees to print everything for it so my little Oregon heart is hurting. Everything else seems to be going well. I learned where to buy groceries and how to put credit on my phone so everything is coming up roses. This is the end of the third week in my eight week journey so I’m glad I actually get to do some real work starting next week.

Drop me a line at timdaniel25@gmail.com if you need something to do. I enjoy hearing from people I don’t hear from usually.

2 Weeks In

Sup y’all?

Well, we’re about two weeks in and things are going well. My big project begins next week and I’m looking forward to it. Basically, The Carter Center has asked me to put on a training for some Physician Assistants and Nurses that they’ve already trained in mental health. They asked me to do a training on Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT).

Now, I know some about DBT. I used it when I worked at the Children’s Farm Home in Corvallis, Oregon after undergrad. I’ve also studied a little in my grad program and given a few presentations on it as well. I’m fairly familiar with the mechanics of it so I feel confident presenting the information. That being said, presenting it and teaching people how to use it can be entirely different things.

Luckily, after conversing with some of my professors, I was able to figure out that the best way to approach this is to present it then work with the trainees to figure out how to adapt it to a Liberian context. Easier said than done but still more in my wheelhouse. If Marsha Linehan ever reads this, this is not a training it is a study group.

(Usually I take a few days to write these and the above situation has just changed, the DBT Study Group will be taking place week after next starting July 3^rd)

That takes care of the work update for now. The personal side of things is a bit quieter I’m afraid. Every day after work I come home and mostly just chill or take a short walk around the neighborhood which has been an interesting experience.

Liberia is difficult to describe. I’m not sure where to start really. The people are very interesting. When I first arrived I honestly felt a cold welcome from most of the people I met. Not that they were antagonistic or cruel but they were very withdrawn, sharing a few words at a time of very little substance. It’s still ongoing, when I meet new people, they are similarly withdrawn. I don’t know if that’s a function of Liberian society or if it should be attributed more to my foreignness.

The other interns and I were talking about it and we think it could possibly be because of the recent events in Liberia’s history. They had an Ebola crisis just three years ago and the Civil War ended in 2003. So Liberia has had a lot of stuff going on and it seems reasonable that these past events have made them more withdrawn and reticent to engage with foreigners or people in general. But this is definitely all amateurish conjecture.

In general most days are pretty formulaic. During the week I wake up around 6, go to work at 8ish then come home at 4. There’s a restaurant right next door that I eat lunch at about twice a week, the other days I bring my own lunch. On the weekends I go on long walks, usually either the maid or the security guy wants to come with me. I’m the only person staying at Eagle’s Landing right now so I think they get a little bit bored during the day. I’ve heard there’s a golf course not too far away so I’ll probably go check that out at some point and I think I’m going to see Ashley and Bianca who are doing their internship in Harper which is a rural community only accessible by plane. So that is what is going on everybody, I hope all of you are doing okay. If you’d like you can find me on Facebook, Instagram at tdaniel541 or shoot me an email at timdaniel25@gmail.com.

First Day of Work

Before we get started, I wanted to mention that I don't post a lot of pictures on this blog to start with. However, I do post more on Instagram because I like the platform more and I find it's easier to use with less of an internet connection. So if you want to see more pictures, Instagram is the spot you can find me at tdaniel541.

The ride in went well. It turns out my new home, Eagle's Landing, is only about a five minute drive to the office.

Once I got to the office I met a bunch of people, including the two interns that I am here with. They're both students at Emory. It's a good school but not as good as DU or Oregon State.

Julian is from California and he's working on a project surveying prisoners at the prison. Apparently his job is to get an idea of the conditions in the prison which seems like a slightly scary proposition.

Chris is from Washington and is also and RPCV (Honduras '10-'12). He's working on surveying religious leaders about what types of mental health services they provide.

And that's about how the first half of my day went, just chilling in our little work space. The three of us share an office in the back. I think, secretly, that it might be the worst office because the air conditioner doesn't seem to work properly. I think it's actually sucking in hot air from the outside so maybe it's a ploy to get us to go outside? More on this conspiracy later.

Everyone seems really nice at the office. It's a bit of a different vibe than my time in the Peace Corps. Being in an office solely focused on one thing feels a little weird. Normally during the work day in the Peace Corps your with other teachers in the school or nurses in the health center. And while all of them are very competent professionals there's a different air here that seems to insinuate everyone is working towards the same goal. It's a good feeling for the most part, despite it's alienness? alienosity? Alieniferousness? Alieniferousness.

In the afternoon I had a meeting with Janice, Dyonah, and Alex. Janice is head honcho around here, she runs literally everything. Dyonah is in charge of the training program. The Carter Center has a training program that trains nurses and PAs in mental health for six months. Alex is sort of the liaison to the people that have been trained after they leave. Everyone is very nice and seems very committed to the goals of the Carter Center.

Anyways, for those of you who want to know what I'll be doing here's the rundown. The Carter Center is trying to implement a new mental health program in elementary school. I can't quite remember the name but I know it starts with the words Eastern Mediterranean and the full acronym is EMROH. Janice asked if I'd be the point person in making sure it gets through whatever hurdles come up for the next eight weeks. That's one thing. Every month the mental health clinicians that have been trained all get together to talk about exceptionally difficult cases or the Carter Center puts on a presentation about something the clinicians want to hear about. Dyonah asked for my help with that. And Alex wants to give the people they've trained a refresher course in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) and so now him and I are supposed to have a training curriculum done by this Friday and have a five day training starting next Monday the 18th.

Well, that's the majority of what happened on my first day. There's a few more piddling details but I don't think I have the time to give you anything but the broad strokes as you can see I have a lot of work to do. In fact I'll probably have to stop writing in the middle of the next sentence and get back to work.

See y'all nex

In Which I Walk up the Street

Day 2/56:

Today went well.

I really had a hard time sleeping last night, I'm still adjusting to the new timezone. I got up early and watched Prisoners. I never realized what an all star cast is in that movie. Paul Dano's face should have it's own Oscar category.

I honestly spent most of the day just trying to stay awake. In the afternoon I asked the housekeeper, Vicki, if she would show me around the neighborhood. We took a walk down the street and looked through some of the stalls that were on the roadside.

Vicki is very nice. She is constantly checking on me and making sure I have everything I need. It's funny, actually, I have a big metal door that I shut at night and as soon as I open it in the morning Vicky and Jack, the security guy, come running down to check on me.

Well, now I have to confess something. I don't have any pictures of our walk because I didn't bring my camera. I didn't bring my camera because I learned that, not through any fault of their own, another intern was robbed last week. I don't want to write off the whole country of Liberia, I know that the majority of them are kind, big-hearted people. But I also have to face the reality that I stand out here and It's possible I could be targeted because of that. So, I've decided to be a little more cautious from here on out.

So I figured my first time down the street, I'll just leave everything of value at home and see what it's like outside my little compound (pictures of that will be forthcoming, the art is outstanding). We walked down the road a bit. Vicki pointed out all of the local party places and good food places. It's not much of a neighborhood though. Eagle's landing borders a very busy road near the junction to the airport so it's really just a lot of cars speeding by. At the junction there are some places to eat and drink as well as catch a taxi or motorcycle taxi. There's also a few car washes and by car wash I mean some dudes standing around with buckets and sponges. Looks like hot work.

The highlight of the excursion was when we stopped to watch a football (soccer) game. The field really was a sight to behold. There was no grass, it was more of an empty lot than anything else. There was a fair amount of trash on the field, it was crisscrossed with furrows caused by the drainage from the recent rain, and there was a water pump in one corner of the field. On the same side as the pump the field was bordered by a by a short concrete wall and building that served as an out of bounds line and spectator stands. Whenever a ball touched the wall, it was considered out and one of the players would grab the ball, clamber up onto the foundation of the building and throw the ball in. The most egregious part was that the field had a very obvious slant towards one of the goals which seemed, to me at least, a bit unfair.

The game itself was quite good. Both teams played hard and when we left the team playing uphill was actually winning 2-1. I learned that this was an inter-school game for two local high schools. There were no coaches that I could see but one team had substitutes. The referee appeared to be a volunteer, he stood on one side of the field and judged all the out of bounds calls and free kicks from where he stood, he must have had the vision eagle or at least a squirrel with tiny binoculars. At one point he did walk to the middle of the field to see the game more clearly and at the same time unwrapped a piece of candy then dropped the wrapper in the middle of the field. One short side of the field was bordered by a turnout from a busy road and twice the game had to be stopped so a car could drive through. The game also stopped for a motorcycle and a few times when the ball bounced into the road.

If what I saw today is any indication of how football is approached in other African countries, I can see why so many good football players come out of Africa. The conditions of the field were terrible. The players did their best to maneuver around them but even just watching I could see they were having a difficult time. I give them all the credit in the world though. Their field was terrible and there wasn't anyone really supervising the game but the kids really did try their hardest. It was an excellent display of sportsmanship and perseverance.

Liberia is an interesting place so far. Stay tuned for my first day of work.

First Day in Liberia

Sup y'all?

Well, I made it. Denver to New York to Montreal to Amsterdam to Freetown to Monrovia. What a trip, it has affected me in the most profound ways and I truly feel like a changed person. I'm looking forward to coming home and sharing all of this profound knowledge with my peers.

But, before that, there's this. The trip here was exhausting. And as I write this I've been in the country for almost 19 hours.

I arrived last night at 9:15. I was a little worried because the person picking me up was supposed to be there at 9:55, when the flight was supposed to land. Luckily, this fear abated as I made my way into the terminal. There was one person checking passports in the "Visitors" line so that took about 15 minutes but the baggage claim was the real nightmare.

If I had to describe the baggage claim as a wrestling event I'd liken it most to Hell in a Cell. When I read the phrase, "jockey for position" I assume it's a more polite way of saying people were pushing others out of the way. To use this nicety would be a grave injustice because it would misinform those that come after me and wouldn't properly honor the survivors of what I'm calling, The Baggage Claim Massacre.

There was no jockeying, there were no niceties, there was only you, your bag and the exit and it was up to you to find the most efficient way to claim your prize and leave. If that meant suplexing someone's grandma, beating an old man with his own cane, or leaping off the turnstile to deliver a flying elbow to a child's face courtesy of Papa Smurph (my new wrestling name), it was all acceptable. There's no referee at the baggage claim, that's the new adage I live by now.

Also, kind of an interesting tidbit, there was a thermal camera at the baggage claim. I'm still not sure why.

Anyways after the Baggage Claim Massacre I walked outside to the mass of taxi drivers, successfully avoided them and found my ride. My drivers name was Mark, a quiet fellow. We rode into town in the traditional white land cruiser and arrived at Eagle's Landing. Unfortunately, while we parked outside the gate and blew the horn for several minutes no one came to let us in. But Mark called Anthony, his supervisor, and he got me a room at the local hotel. I didn't think of any Mark Anthony jokes until I just wrote that last sentence. I'm off my game, must be the jet lag.

But, now I sit in Eagle's Landing. It's nice, I have a little apartment with air conditioning, cable TV, and a little kitchenette. It's a little more snug than the floor plan would have you believe. I have water all day and electricity from 6pm-8am. This is my life now and I'm looking forward to work on Monday.