Orders of magnitude

Every once in a while, statistics help put things in perspective. Most people have heard that more than one billion people live on a dollar a day. To me, that’s not that useful because I rarely calculate how much my daily life costs. When discussing our finances, we usually speak in terms of how much we earn.

The other night, a friend and I were having sushi (I know – ridiculous), and we were discussing the ongoing efforts to reform Liberia’s civil service.

“How much do government employees make here?” I asked.

“I think about $50, or maybe $80,” he said.

That’s pretty good, I thought. Here, most of the expat consultants charge $200-$400 a day, so while $50 is relatively low, the cost of living here is also much cheaper than it is at home…

“Per month.”

“Oh.”

I felt a bit sick, thinking about the number of times I’ve spent more on a single dinner than a Liberian civil servant makes in a month. A month.

Given those statistics, is it really surprising that so many of them rush home to run other businesses?

six months

London in springtime: the sun is shining, birds are singing, and the sky is finally, amazingly, stunningly blue.

So I left.

Six months is just long enough to find London's mildness soothing, rather than boring; to stop being surprised when the English mention "the Europeans" rather than "we Europeans;" and to make a few good friends.

It's also, as it turns out, long enough to realize that I no longer want my "charitable" activities to be only hobbies; that golden handcuffs do come off (though they are very snug and definitely leave scars); and that I'd rather feel sheepish about leaving than resign myself to staying.

So, here I am. Thousands of miles from fine dining and fine art ...but two feet from my sweetie, and a million times happier.

(A bit sentimental, I know...but it's the truth.)

budgeting

Meant to post this earlier, but oh well.

Last Wednesday, March 12, (before the Spain trip), the UK's annual government budget was released. The government official who presents it each year is the Chancellor of the Exchequer, (essentially the Secretary of the Treasury).

What's notable about this is that people here know when the budget comes, care about it, and actually change their behavior accordingly. It's amazing. No doubt, their concern is partly motivated by the UK's relatively high taxes and the frequency of the increases (apparently, annual).

But for the average person, the reason they care about the budget is that taxes are raised on very important items: beer, wine, and cigarettes. In coverage by at least one of the major newspapers, "Lifestyle taxes" were reported first. One of my coworkers actually bought several cases of wine on the 11th, in anticipation of major tax hikes. The taxes on cigarettes (11 pence on a pack) were to take place at 6 pm that day. Seems pretty far from the popular notion of slow government bureaucracy...

my kingdom for a salad

Six days into Spain, and I'd kill for a decent green salad. Barcelona was all meat, all the time. Do Spaniards really eat like this? We've been having cold cuts around the clock, simply because they're here.



Delicate ham, spicy chorizo, peppery salchichón...I can't believe I'd ever admit this, but I'm a little sick of swine.

The fruit stands at
La Boqueria were gorgeous, but they were mostly just looks, except for the papaya, wild strawberries, and the gargantuan red peppers. Here's my brother Henry, holding up a beauty:


In Barcelona, we hung out with my siblings, parents, and my sister's boyfriend, Christian.

I'm very close to all of them, so it's been great to spend so much time together.














As you can probably tell, there's no shortage of silliness in this group, which makes it all the more fun.

chimps

During my last visit to Monrovia, we went on a day trip to Marshall Island.

First, we stopped at the Liberian Institute for Biomedical Research (LIBR). Some time before the war, LIBR had been conducting research on chimpanzees. Somehow, the chimps (and the LIBR campus) survived 14 years of fighting, and then five years ago, the chimps were released on Marshall Island. Though they no longer live in captivity, they depend on their erstwhile keepers for sustenance. Apparently some people bring them food every day, and they also eat cookies thrown at them by tourists.

We drove to a small village, where the locals were selling some red fruits. Initially we were ecstatic - we thought we had found a secret source of red peppers.

The fruits are "a little sweet and a little sour," according to one of our drivers. I think they are called "cruces" or something similar. The one I tried tasted a bit like an unripe persimmon - it gave me that same, dry mouth feeling.

Two men agreed to take us to Marshall Island in dugout canoes.

After an hour of slow movement down the river, we saw chimps! Our guide, Morris, brought us very close to the shore, and tossed packets of cookies onto the beach.

Their bottoms were, uh, inflamed.

The younger chimps were very cute, but the adults were actually a little frightening. They were much larger than we had expected, and the biggest ones seemed as a large as us. Some of them ventured into the water toward us, and I thought for a moment that they would swim or wade to our canoes. When we ran out of food, one of larger males splashed us - in anger, perhaps? I wondered if he was insulted when we laughed. The largest, oldest male, had only one arm, but put it to good use: after picking up a biscuit from the ground, he would dip it into the water before eating it. Sort of the way I would dip a biscotti into a cup of tea...except that this was a river, and he was a huge, balding, scary, one-armed chimpanzee.

You may not be able to tell, but in the last picture, Morris' shirt says, "WKRP in Cincinnati."

the big day

As you probably already know, today is a very big day for Liberians: GW Bush is landing in a few hours, as are the First Lady and Secretary of State. For a nation of only about 3.5 million people - with a capital city of maybe 1 million - this is a huge, HUGE deal. Streets have been swept. Curbs painted. Banners hung. Shacks demolished, and people relocated. Most of the city has been given the day off.

We saw the first signs of the impending madness last week: piles of dirt on one of Monrovia's main roads, about every 3 feet apart. I suppose they don't have giant dustpans here, so the collection had to happen sometime after the sweeping.

The curbs at the bus stops have been painted red, white, and blue - not, as we had initially feared, to represent the good ole Stars and Stripes - but because the Liberian national colors are (of course) red, white, and blue. (The obvious imitation of the US flag is another uncomfortable reminder of the country's always visible, sometimes proud, and occasionally humiliating legacy - but more on that later.)

There were rumors that there would be absolutely no mobile phone or internet access today, and I'm happy that this post proves them false. More to come later today...

our new family member

I arrived at our apartment in Liberia at 4:30 AM on Monday morning (Sunday night). Peter had reminded me that there would be someone special to greet me, and in fact, there was:

Meet Libby, the newest member of the 16th street household(inspired by her country of birth). She likes puppy chow, belly rubs, and chewing on everything. Her favorite toys include a cardboard paper towel roll and a crushed Pepsi can.