Friday, August 24, 2007
signs
I am fascinated by signs in Monrovia. Maybe it's that so many of them are hand painted. At any rate:
so...close...
We got up early today so that we could get to Spriggs Payne Airfield by 730 AM. (It's the airport used for domestic flights). We were waitlisted on UN flight 173 to Harper, a small, sleepy city in southeast Liberia.
Three or four times a week, the UN flies to Harper and Freetown (Sierra Leone). NGO personnel (us) can fly for free - if there's space. At 8:30 AM, one of the guards assured me that we'd get on. Sometimes it's a plane, sometimes it's a big helicopter. Today it was a chopper that seats about 20, and there were only about 15 people on the "manifest" (list), including only 5 UN folks.
Around us were other would-be-passengers. Small groups of UN soldiers from Ethiopia, Pakistan, Ghana, and Mongolia (!!). NGO workers with heavy black laptop bags over their shoulders. Liberians, some seemingly waiting for flights, some just hanging out.
At 9 AM, we stood in line, showed our passports, and we were in! This was great news - not just because riding a UN chopper for free would be great, but because this meant that we wouldn't have to endure the FOURTEEN HOUR DRIVE to Harper over 150 miles of muddy "roads," in an SUV with seven other people, luggage, and flip charts.
We were herded into the "Passenger Lounge", a small room full of UN soldiers watching a South African soccer game. I started reading. I texted friends. A British woman's voice announced that our flights were postponed indefinitely because of the weather. I dozed off. Three hours later:
"Attention, please. All passengers holding red or yellow boarding cards, flying to Harper or Greenville, your flights have been canceled. Please see the check-in desk to rebook your flights."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
Three or four times a week, the UN flies to Harper and Freetown (Sierra Leone). NGO personnel (us) can fly for free - if there's space. At 8:30 AM, one of the guards assured me that we'd get on. Sometimes it's a plane, sometimes it's a big helicopter. Today it was a chopper that seats about 20, and there were only about 15 people on the "manifest" (list), including only 5 UN folks.
Around us were other would-be-passengers. Small groups of UN soldiers from Ethiopia, Pakistan, Ghana, and Mongolia (!!). NGO workers with heavy black laptop bags over their shoulders. Liberians, some seemingly waiting for flights, some just hanging out.
At 9 AM, we stood in line, showed our passports, and we were in! This was great news - not just because riding a UN chopper for free would be great, but because this meant that we wouldn't have to endure the FOURTEEN HOUR DRIVE to Harper over 150 miles of muddy "roads," in an SUV with seven other people, luggage, and flip charts.
We were herded into the "Passenger Lounge", a small room full of UN soldiers watching a South African soccer game. I started reading. I texted friends. A British woman's voice announced that our flights were postponed indefinitely because of the weather. I dozed off. Three hours later:
"Attention, please. All passengers holding red or yellow boarding cards, flying to Harper or Greenville, your flights have been canceled. Please see the check-in desk to rebook your flights."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
scenes from around town
Here a few pictures we took from the car today...
It may not be apparent from this picture, but the point I was trying to make was that all of the government agencies in Liberia are really poor. So poor that the customs officials and guards at the airport weren't wearing uniforms.
Here are some shots of the roads in our neighborhood.
It may not be apparent from this picture, but the point I was trying to make was that all of the government agencies in Liberia are really poor. So poor that the customs officials and guards at the airport weren't wearing uniforms.
Here are some shots of the roads in our neighborhood.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
where to start
Hello from Monrovia, Liberia!
Peter and I landed here late Monday night at Roberts International Airport, after a three hour delay at London Gatwick. Four days in, we're still getting settled - or at least, I am. (Peter was here for three weeks in April ). So, the basics:
We live on the fifth floor of a palatial ex-pat apartment building at "16th and the beach," in the residential neighborhood of Sinkor. It seems to be almost 2000 square feet, with 3 enormous bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a huge kitchen and pantry, washer/dryer. and satellite internet access. All in all, it's pretty fantastic and, for the moment anyway, we have it to ourselves.
However, it's a little embarrassing to be living in such conditions when most of our Liberian neighbors live in burned out buildings (casualties of the war?), tin lean-tos, or straw huts with mud floors.
I'd meant to start this blog the day after our arrival, but frankly, I felt about it the way I feel about helping Liberia: I didn't know where to start. There's so much to say- from my death march apartment hunt in London to the sign at Customs at the Monrovia airport (it included these lines:
"Rejections:
Criminals/convicts
Immoral acts/actors")
So I'll start with what seems like a very troubling conundrum: Where do you start, when you're trying to help the people of a desperately poor, post-conflict country with an impotent justice system, disastrous roads, inconsistent power, and almost no health care? Do you pave roads so that the citizens and aid workers can get around more easily? Create a power grid so that people can work into the night? Build schools so that the child soldiers have somewhere positive to go? Give out microfinance loans so that people can make a living?
The answer, it seems, is: You start everywhere. The UN is here, as are dozens (maybe hundreds) of NGOs working on all of these things, each contributing one little, tiny drop in the bucket, hoping that it will add up.
cc
Here are some pictures from the balconies (yes, plural) at our apartment.
Peter and I landed here late Monday night at Roberts International Airport, after a three hour delay at London Gatwick. Four days in, we're still getting settled - or at least, I am. (Peter was here for three weeks in April ). So, the basics:
We live on the fifth floor of a palatial ex-pat apartment building at "16th and the beach," in the residential neighborhood of Sinkor. It seems to be almost 2000 square feet, with 3 enormous bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a huge kitchen and pantry, washer/dryer. and satellite internet access. All in all, it's pretty fantastic and, for the moment anyway, we have it to ourselves.
However, it's a little embarrassing to be living in such conditions when most of our Liberian neighbors live in burned out buildings (casualties of the war?), tin lean-tos, or straw huts with mud floors.
I'd meant to start this blog the day after our arrival, but frankly, I felt about it the way I feel about helping Liberia: I didn't know where to start. There's so much to say- from my death march apartment hunt in London to the sign at Customs at the Monrovia airport (it included these lines:
"Rejections:
Criminals/convicts
Immoral acts/actors")
So I'll start with what seems like a very troubling conundrum: Where do you start, when you're trying to help the people of a desperately poor, post-conflict country with an impotent justice system, disastrous roads, inconsistent power, and almost no health care? Do you pave roads so that the citizens and aid workers can get around more easily? Create a power grid so that people can work into the night? Build schools so that the child soldiers have somewhere positive to go? Give out microfinance loans so that people can make a living?
The answer, it seems, is: You start everywhere. The UN is here, as are dozens (maybe hundreds) of NGOs working on all of these things, each contributing one little, tiny drop in the bucket, hoping that it will add up.
cc
Here are some pictures from the balconies (yes, plural) at our apartment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)