Stuck in Harper...

... life could be worse.

I have been in Harper, on the south eastern coast of Liberia, for the past week. It's been great; this place is beautiful. The town is built on a little peninsula that juts out into the sea, so we have beaches on both sides. The coastline looks just like the travel mags; palm trees swaying in the breeze, clear water, golden sand, black rocks dotting the beaches. Our residence looks out over a beautiful bay, and even has its own little beach. So in between working (and yes I have been, there's definitely not much play!), I've been spending most of my free time there with a book.

 

I was supposed to return to Monrovia today, but luckily for me, our plane (aptly named Red 607) wasn't able to land due to bad weather and rude UN helicopters landing when we were supposed to. Due to the safety rules, Red can't land unless the airstrip is totally clear, so they weren't able to stop here. Suits me! Another week here in paradise, away from the big bad city.

 

Harper is only a shell of its former self. It's a small place, but quite beautiful. Apparently before the war it was the playground of the rich and famous, and many of the buildings were obviously grand old holiday mansions. I really like it. It has five old churches, a bustling market and port, and fishing boats going in and out all day. There's even an old Morning Star Freemason's temple, the highest buliding here with its gothic columns and marble interior, and although it's abandoned and trashed, it has the best views of the place. It would have been amazingly beautiful in its time. From the balcony of our residence I can see two shipwrecks and the remains of a jetty.

 

Apart from our little beach I wouldn't swim here though. The current is really strong, and the massive waves are dumpers! Today I went for a walk on the beach with a work mate, and it sloped down to the water at 45 degrees for about 2-3 metres. The waves themselves were at least this high, and came in with massive force...you wouldn't last out there for more than about 1 minute. The little yellow crabs love it htough....they scurry into their holes on the sand when the waves come, and as soon as the water is gone they literally kick out the sand that's intruded into their homes and scurry out again. Over and over, all day long!!!

 

Speaking of dumping, unfortunately some sections of beach are pretty disgusting. Liberians don't know any better (or have any other systems or infrastructure) than to treat their beaches as toilets; ie, literally taking a crap on them. Yuck! In addition, there is always loads of rubbish washed up...old shoes, plastic, rubber, foam, driftwood, fishing line, bits of coconuts and palm trees.

 

But for the most part, the beaches here are beautiful. Too bad you can't swim at them (the clean ones, that is!).

First impressions of Liberia

Well, finally I made it to Africa! And what a place Liberia is.

 

I flew direct from Brussels, because Air Brussels is the only airline that fliesto Monrovia. The passengers are a mixture of UN peacekeepers (these particular guys were Swedish), NGO representatives (ie me and a UNICEF program assessor), weird American Christian missionaries, and Africans who have been living in America. We stopped in Dakar, Senegal, and 90% of people get off the plane. At this stage this worried me a bit. I wait for everyone to disembark, the plane to be cleaned, sprayed with disinfectant and refueled, while the air hostesses constantly tell everyone to keep in their seats. Out the window Dakar looks dry, dusty and polluted.

 

Then I took off again and head to Liberia, another 1:40 away. As we neared it, a beautiful emerald colour emerges on the horizon....and as it comes into view Liberia is a green, lush country, almost completely covered in forest, with little or no human habitation. It was a lot wetter than I imagined it to be after seeing Dakar. Amazing rivers make their way across the forest, just like you would imagine a snake sliding across a sand dune. As we get nearer to the capital, the forest turns into a patchwork of different forest cover types, and slash and burn farming becomes very evident as a primary land use...there are tiny flashes of orange down below as sections of forest are burned for later use as rubber and rice plantations. Roads dissect the landscape and fragment the habitat. More villages appear. Then the coastline does; it is a beautiful straight beach that forms a golden strip between blue and green, and the forest reaches right to its edges. We flew out over the ocean and turn around to fly into Robertsfield International Airport.

 

The use of the term 'international' seems like a joke when I saw that the terminal is only just bigger than my house. It is surrounded by forest and an old concrete wall, and scattered around are old drums of oil, old airport vehicles and tens of UN helicopters. A cracked and weathered tarmac and a few people await my arrival. Embarking the plane is like arriving in Cairns; hot and humid, it's windy, and its already getting dark at 7pm. The terminal is a hot box of madness filled with people lining up under the categories of 'liberians', 'resident aliens' and 'other'. I decide that I fit into this category and wait in line until finally someone checks my passport and arrival card and sends me on my way to the chaos of baggage collection and the gaggle of people waiting outside. By now its dark and I'm really hoping my International Red Cross driver has remembered to show up...

 

Fate prevails and Sam, the ICRC driver, is there waiting with his Red Cross badge. We get into a 4WD and drive the 65km back to Monrovia. Its dark as we amble along the road in the convoy of others returning to the capital and pass numerous people walking the road looking for a ride, thumbs out, not very visible due to the blackness of their skin. The odd abode goes past, most are not lit, a few with the odd bright light bulb shining into the darkness. The old football stadium looms dark and forboding; we pass through 2 UN military checkpoints without trouble. Honking is the law on this road, its organised chaos where rules don't exist...but we get there in the end.

 

I arrive at JFK residence, which is surrounded by barbed wire and security, but a humble looking 2 storey building set amongst the homes of Monrovians. My lovely colleagues have all gathered and have cooked me dinner...what a welcome! There are Swiss, aussies, americans, canadians, kenyans and monrovians. And they're all really friendly.

 

By about 9pm I'm all ready to hit the hay after a wake up time of 5:30am and 9 hours in the air.

And then a full on day of briefings at the ICRC headquarters. My brain is full of info! I got issued with a laptop and radio and fed a whole heap of info about the security situation, do's and don'ts, and the workings of the ICRC in Liberia. And then the news that I will be out in the field early tomorrow morning, for a week, in a town called Voinjama, which is where one of the sub-delegations is. After a weekend back in Monrovia I will be off to Harper, right in the south-east corner of the country, to our other sub-delegation for another week. Both of these trips will be to see the workings of the Water/Habitat unit, within which I'm working, and to see how the sub-delegations work. I will also meet my boss, Julie, tomorrow in Voinjama.

So that's it from me! I'm exhausted. Time to go home and pack for a week.