Yesterday we went to a clinic about 60kms outside of Zwedru for our monthly monitoring visit. You may remember a few posts back when we first tried to do September monitoring and it was a... well, not a success. When we finally arrived (after pulling a bus through mud, going around several stuck trucks via a by-pass in the bush, and waiting for the Chinese road workers to poor some dirt onto the road that will turn into a huge mud hole in the next rains), I was SO happy to see how much their records had improved since our last visit. Signatures were obtained, MUAC measurements were recorded, and food was being distributed properly. Wha-freakin-hoo! They listened. And took initiative. And that makes me happy.

What doesn't make me happy is mud. LOTS OF MUD. I am off to Monrovia next week and don't want to see anymore mud. I'm hearing horror stories of it taking vehicles between 16 hours and 3 days to make the trek. Its 550kms away. Thats about 310 miles. It doesn't have to be like this.

Anyway, you would think that after so many months I would get sick of taking pictures of trucks stuck in mud. But you would be wrong. I even won the best transportation photo in the Peace Corps Liberia newsletter contest. Nevermind no one else entered.

Here are some pics from yesterday's trip:

The UN roadworkers were trying to help in their spaceship-like machine, while all of the Liberians were standing around pissed off that they were making it worse, or as they say "Dey spoilin it-O!" I'm on the Liberian's side.

Sometimes, when the road is blocked, the only option you have is to take the bush route.

Here, we couldn't go on the left of the white truck....

So we went to the right of the green truck.

And now, one of my favorites. Yes, that is a leg sticking out from under the truck. But he wasn't run over. He's trying to shovel out the mud from underneath the tires. That job must suck.

The best way to end a day like this is watching the UN Civilians play the Indian batallion in football as a way to start the UN Day Celebrations that will be going on all week.

Bon Appetit!

About two weeks ago, my house mate and I decided to go into town for an early Sunday morning egg sandwich. On the way there we found a restaurant serving rice and potato greens- a classic Liberian dish and one of my favs. You probably think we are crazy but we decided to have our breakfast here rather than go for the egg sandwich.

Later that day, I started not feeling alright. I don't blame the rice and greens solely, but a culmination of everything I put in my body that weekend- cheese, fried chicken, beer, pringles, oreos, pasta, etc. I was still sort of getting over a small bout of possible giardia from the previous weekend, but that didn't stop me from the usual weekend binge. Come on, you know me better than that. Yet, this time it wasn't so much the cramping and diarrhea but the burning in my upper abdomen and diarrhea. This of course led to the hemorrhoids that I am still dealing with. Yeah I said it. No shame. Don't act like its never happened to you. Especially if you've ever been a Peace Corps volunteer.

So, fast forward to yesterday. Ruthia and I met for lunch at King's Lodge Restaurant. I had the pepper soup and fufu. She got the rice and potato greens (I haven't been able to eat them for 2 weeks, due to the beginning of the tragic aversion to my once favorite food). As we were sitting there eating our lunch I look over and see Ruthia examining her fish very intently. In slow motion, she looks over at me, hands me her plate and says, very calmly, "My fish is moving." "What? Your fish is moving?!" Sure enough I look down and see tons of tiny white maggots crawling around in her fish. You can go vomit now. I almost did.

After getting rid of the piece of fish (and having the waitress say she will happily bring us a new piece.... um, no thanks.), Ruthia again looks over at me, and as if she was deep in thought asks "Well, whats the worst that can happen if you eat maggots? Explosive diarrhea?" " Yeah, probably." "Ok, I can handle that. Just as long as I can't get tape worm."

Now, I've had tape worm. And I've seen maggots crawling around in fish. I prefer tape worm.

Today I go for lunch at my usual place (Munah Planet bar and restaurant) where I always get the jollof rice. Of course today, for the first time ever, they didn't have it (when I asked why they said because it is cool out and people can't eat jollof rice when it is cool out. Duh.) Well, OF COURSE they have rice and potato greens. Ok, I'm starving, I'll give it a whirl. But when it came to the table, I couldn't eat it. I could not eat it. Nope. No way. My abdomen started burning. My hemorrhoids started acting up. I immediately felt like going to the bathroom. Pictures of maggots were floating around in my head.

It was a horrible day. I had to admit to myself that my meals of rice and potato greens may have come to an end.

Bon Appetit.

OMG. WTF?

Cell phones were just beginning to hit the market when I left Zambia. It drove me crazy to see people in my village buying cell phones when they couldn't even afford to feed their families. I get that it was a status symbol (and the argument can be made that we do the same in the States), but COME ON!!! You have children to feed and clothe and send to school. And you beg me for things everyday. Buy some maize meal. Not 'talk time.'

When I got to Liberia, the first thing Peace Corps told me was that I needed to get a cell phone. I had one in my hands less than 5 hours after my plane touched down in Monrovia and I only had to walk 1 block from the hotel to get it. It didn't take me long to realize that EVERYONE here, Peace Corps or not, has a cell phone. Granted, there are no land lines because they were destroyed during the war and it was decided it wasn't worth the money to restore them when they could just go cellular, but I was still surprised. We even have a phone number column on our attendance sheets for all the meetings we attend.

Name Position Phone # Signature

I must admit that the popularity of cell phones has made my life much easier. Rather than walk 30 minutes to the hospital to ask someone a question or set up a meeting, I can just call them (or email them, but thats another story that I will eventually get to). But, on second thought, I like the walk. I like the person to person contact. I like showing my face at the hospital because it makes me a real person and people get to know me. And on a slow day, there is nothing else to do but walk. Unless its raining. Like it is now.

Being the white person, I get "flashed"/"beeped" (calling someones phone, letting it ring once and hanging up, hoping they will call you back so you don't have to use any of your minutes) constantly because everyone feels that I will be willing to spend MY talk time (and my hard earned HUGE Peace Corps salary), when they don't want to spend theirs. News flash- if you 'beep' me, I will NOT call you back. If the conversation is important enough to you, you will spend the 10 cents a minute to talk to me. If not, send me a text message. Or even better, walk to my office. Walking is nice. Unless its raining. Like it is now.

Surprisingly, even though EVERYONE has a phone here, it still seems to be a status symbol. Ring tone volumes are always set to maximum levels (so everyone can hear it ring within a 5 mile radius and then look your way) and phones are never picked up on the first, or second, or third, or fourth, or even sometimes fifth ring (you want to make sure everyone has heard and acknowledged that someone is calling you and the max volume may not be enough by itself. But surely if you let it go for 10 or 15 seconds no one will miss the opportunity to pay you the attention you deserve). Don't get my started on hands free calls.

I have actually gotten used to all of these things (while still finding them annoyingly humorous), but something new happened today.

I received two emails from a guy I work with at the hospital. These are not the first emails I have ever received from him, but they were the first ones that I had to read a few times to really convince myself that I was reading things correctly. Here the emails:

1. I have d 1st assessment copies from d OICs of 11 clinics. I'm following up with my bosses for d real request for dat program (DOTs centers). B4 d day ends, I'll give u a call & d copies from d clinics. I'm not pay death ear 2 d progress of d program.

Thanks

2. Andrea,

Dis is why I'm in d office since 7:am dis morning. Pls wait on me 2morrow morning. ASAP when we meet in d morning I'm going 2 make sure that Netus do these letters b4 anything.

Thanks

Now, after ignoring some of the crazy English (I'm not pay death ear?! I think he meant hes not turning a deaf ear, but who am I to say? ), do you see what I see??

HE'S EMAILING ME WITH TEXT MESSAGING SHORTCUTS!!!

He has completely pushed professionalism aside in favor of text messaging lingo.

OMG. WTF?

Moto GP

I have seen enough motorbike accidents in the past 3 months to last me a lifetime. So you can probably imagine my excitement when I learned that the YMCA was holding "Motorbike Safety classes" here in town. Of the approximately 1 million motorbikes (a small exaggeration, but close enough) in Zwedru, I would say about 20% attended. I know this because all of the "graduates" received a safety vest and a helmet to wear while driving their bikes. Of every 10 motorbikes that pass me, about 2 are wearing the "graduate" gear.
Saturday was the last day of the training. The classes closed with a motorbike parade around town. A few drivers took this as a prime opportunity to impress the ladies and show off tricks (that they learned in class?) such as standing up, sitting wayyyy back, lifting feet up off pedals etc.
I've decided that what used to be a chaotic swarm of motorbike drivers racing around town is now a chaotic swarm of motorbike drivers in bright orange YMCA safety vests with bright red helmets racing around town.

Creepy, Crawly, Slippery, Slimy

The biggest spider I have ever seen.

The weirdest thing Ive ever come home to.

Merry Christmas!

I got approval today to come home before Christmas! My official Close of Service date was set for January 9th. We are allowed to move that date up by 2 weeks with approval just from the Monrovia office. If we want to move the date up more than 2 weeks, we need approval from the head office in DC. Two weeks before January 9th is December 26th. Great timing PC! As long as we can prove that we will be done with our work before Christmas, they can't really keep us here. So, See you all in December. But don't expect any gifts. Unless you want some Liberian hot peppers, a pile of mud, a cup of village rice, or dead monkey meat.

Cause this makes me laugh

I asked what kind of worker. The answer was not clear.