So far so good

The County Meet is a sports tournament for teams from Liberia's 15 counties. After a dramatic extra-innings finish in the kickball final (yes I said kickball), the 1500-meter runners took the track. In the women's race, only one runner bothered to train. On her last lap, the stadium announcer got excited. "And it looks like we may have an overtake coming up...Let's see...Oh! Yes! The lead runner has overtaken the last place runner! She has now run one lap more than her slowest competitor." Ouch. So much for encouraging words and a sympathy clap for the slow kid.

Outside the stadium, I found my African twin.

Millions of bats hang from two dead cotton trees right outside our office windows, in town for the dry season. A couple times a day they all fly around, covering downtown Monrovia in a batty blanket. We once drove past a woman toting a huge tub of somethings on her head, and we're pretty sure it was full to the brim with dead bats that will end up in someone's soup. But it also could have been monkey, which is rather prevalent as well. Sometimes the meat in Liberian dishes is vaguely called "spare ribs." I once inquired about the animal of origin, and a lady said "Hmm...I think horse. Or camel."

There's a law concerning walls in Monrovia: If you build it, they will urinate. And so you must paint a warning against potential perpetrators. This one, near my house, is particularly clever. But is dog urine really any more desirable than human urine? Just curious.

Obamania in Liberia 01.20.2009

"Huh?" Moments:
- A taxi bumper proclaims "I'm not easy, but we can discuss it."
- A high schooler in our workshop presented his fake radio broadcast to the group and concluded by saying "So far so good."

Where's My Christmas?

The Christmas Beggar dances around in an oversize shirt and creepy Santa mask until you fork over a few 'liberty' (Liberian dollars). But they don't go away after Christmas -- I danced downtown with one on New Year's Eve. Actually, they should stick with this act year round. It's pretty irresistible and it emptied my pockets more than once.

We camped on the beach at Nyangbah village for Christmas. It's not quite paradise, but it just might be heaven on earth.

The villagers welcomed us with open arms and fed us loads of fresh fish. Our new friend Prince (above center, shirtless) won our hearts with this initial conversation:

Us: "Hey Prince, can you give each of us a traditional Bassa name?"

Prince: "Yes. He can be...um, let me see...Timothy!

"No, Prince. That's an English name. We want a common name from the Bassa tribe."

"Ohhh, okay. Yes, yes. You are...John!"

"What? I know that's not a Bassa name, man. Like, your best friend in the village -- what's his traditional African, Bassa language name? That's what we want."

"Ah! Okay, I understood. I should give you real fine Bassa name?"

"Yes!!"

"Okay, okay...Daryl."

Pounding cassava leaves is hard work. Prince snapped this shot while his mother took a break, looking decidedly unimpressed.

Meet Bubba Davis. At least that's what his name sounded like to us. And his sidekick was Tito (we think). Communication with Bubba and Tito was a chore, but who needs to talk when it's Christmas Day in Liberia and "Feliz Navidad" is crackling through the radio?

Liberians have a subtle way of inquiring as to the whereabouts of their Christmas gift from you. "Where's my Christmas?" and "Gimme my Christmas!" are common refrains. And the best one, which I once heard from a random little kid as I ran past his house: "Christmas on you, right?!"