From the Land of Lofa

Morning...

Remember how in my last posting, I had said that I was going to fly by helicopter up north to Lofa County to visit a project site? I can't explain all of the confusion that has happened the last four or five days regarding flights, but I do know that we ended up travelling by road both ways. It was approximately 10 hours each way give or take a flat tire, and a tea break. One might think that all that travelling might have tarnished the trip, but it was actually a great couple of days.

We arrived late on Wednesday night into Foya, a growing town/city about 8-10 miles from the Guinea and Sierra Leone border. This part of the country has long been recognized as the breadbasket of Liberia. The thick, dense forest resembles many other parts of the country, but what makes this area unique is the hilly landscape and rocky outcrops. Because Foya is a border town, there are still plenty of refugees returning to the area. Within two hundred feet of our office there is a UNHCR transit center, and during my time there we witnessed refugees coming in from Guinea. Accurate statistics are difficult to come by in Liberia, but there are estimates of 1500-2500 refugees still returning each month.

Thursday and Friday were spent visiting our projects that are going on in the area, and also conducting meetings with local leaders to discuss their interest in an HIV/AIDS education program. Additionally, we have 3 interns who are arriving at the end of this week, and we needed to ensure that things were being set up for them. All of these meetings went well, and it became apparent that there is a definite need in the area. I learned how to ride a motorbike, ate lunch with the Pakistani battalion of the UN, and experienced road conditions unlike any other.

Thursday night we met up with our staff at a local "video club" to watch Togo vs. France in the world cup. The week before I had watched the game in a restaurant in Monorovia with all of the ex-patriot community, and this week I experience almost a complete opposite experience. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, one of our staff flashed his cell phone light to catch our attention. I quickly found my seat and I looked around to get a picture of my surroundings. The old part of walls were still laden with bullet holes, and the missing parts of walls had been rebuilt with new material. The roofing was made up of UNHCR tarp, and we all sat on long wooden benches. I estimate that there were over 100 people in the room all watching a 26'' TV screen. D

Despite the different surroudings from the week before at the hotel, the intensity with which people love their football remained the same. As the bad weather knocked out the picture, the crowd grew anxious and restless as they were desperate to watch the game. My colleague at one time had to stretch out his arms between the two gentleman in the bench ahead as their discussion over a hand ball call was growing quite heated. As France scored their second goal, I heard comments from a gentleman on my left to the effect of, "ah, the white men...they never get a call against them...". As the game ended, we filed out with the 100 others to the smell of chicken being roasted on a charcoal grill and loud comments being made about the game. We jumped on our motorbike and drove off to the guesthouse. It was one of those nights you remember as being an experience that you don't want to forget. Not because there was anything monumental about the night, but because you left feeling like you had experienced something real.