Life at the Front: Part III

In my last post, I implied that our first swimming attempt was a certified failure.  That's not entirely true.  (I did make the mistake of putting on sunscreen, which means that my painfully white winter skin stayed painfully white.)  There was one redeeming factor to it...I found some sea glass.  Behold the glory:

I haven't visited any of the “sea glass spots” where those beauties often end up, so perhaps my collection will grow to rival my previous one; few people have been “harvesting” sea glass since the missionaries were evacuated.

Before I launch into the two main points of this post, I must make a confession: some of my pictures don't fit into the general scheme of this article.  Accordingly, I'm just going to dump them here with captions.  Enjoy:

I CAN'T TAKE THE CUTENESS

Our neighbors brought us some almonds; they're thinner, softer, and longer than the almonds you find in the States.

A view of Peace Island from the highway; it's called an island because it's surrounded by swamp.

Pretty typical sign for the urban Liberian, although I've never seen anyone label their apartment before.

That one building at ELWA Junction is finally finished and functional.  I kinda like the clock to the upper left; it's a nice touch.

Done?  Okay.  The dump is over.

Several days after we arrived, we headed in town to go to Lonestar, one of the three major phone networks in Liberia.  Dad went in armed with the iPhones we acquired in the States, and at the end of the day, we got two of our three phones working on Liberian networks.

While we were in town, we saw a mind-boggling number of Ebola signs.  I took pictures of all of the ones I could; here's a selection.

This sign was across the road from Lonestar.

Even "NO LEMON", an automotive service center that focuses on post-war countries, got an Ebola facelift.

One of the main themes seems to be that “stopping Ebola is everyone's business”.  I think it's safe to say that a lot of the expat money pouring into Ebola relief has gone into mobilization and advertisements.

Not all the signs were about Ebola, obviously.  Here's a new Cellcom sign I find simultaneously hilarious and disturbing:

Uh...what?

On our way to Lonestar, we passed the “new Ministry of Defense”, as they call it, even though the building had been half-constructed decades ago, and abandoned during the civil war.  The site had been requisitioned for a large Ebola unit.

It was from one such unit that Liberia's only (some are calling it "last") case of Ebola was recently released.  News has been getting progressively better since we arrived; according to some secondhand information I obtained, there were around twelve unconfirmed cases when we arrived.  Last week there was just one confirmed case, the aforementioned woman who was cured and released.

Word on the street has been that Ebola finish from Liberia; still, everyone is being cautious.  One doctor told me that we have to prove it's not April, referencing the time period last year when Ebola slowed down drastically and opened the doors for a massive resurgence.

Part of the Ebola response is that I've been seeing a large number of helicopters.  Some appear to be run by the United States. Here's a glimpse of one I got with my phone, flying over ELWA:

Like I mentioned earlier, all of the expats are being very cautious.  Alex and Dad visited a Samaritan's Purse hub last week and the precautions were very thorough.  The bottoms of their shoes were sprayed with bleach, their temperatures were checked, and a “certification” was stapled to their clothes with their temperature and the date.  (As a minor collector of Ebola artifacts, I've half a mind to visit the SP office and get a certification myself, so I can save it for posterity.  I'll frame it beside my copy of “Time's Person of the Year - 2014”.)

Still, even in the midst of Ebola response, the normal rhythm of life is being reestablished.  Here are some familiar (and unchanged) places that I think you may appreciate:

Across the road from the entrance to the ELWA campus

The Exclusive!

The beach.  I think this deserves a virtual heart: <3

The painted palm trees.  For those of you who don't know, Liberians often paint trees and locales for Christmastime, to make everything look fine before the big holiday.

Business as usual at the house—it's a hot day, so naturally we've got the laundry out.

The lagoon, on the interior side of the bridge.  If you want to contextualize, pronounce it lah-GOON.

Also, the beach is still just as awesome as ever.  We went swimming for several hours yesterday, and it was glorious.

Before we left the States, some very generous people gave us what is called a “Watershot” case for iPhone.  It allows you to take pictures with your phone underwater, as deep as 130 feet.  (Not that I'm going to go that far down.)  Here's a picture of it:

During our beach trip, I took over 600 pictures with the Watershot, some above water, and some under the water.  (I deleted most of them, since underwater pictures tend to be blurry if you don't hold the camera still.  I ended up with 52 pictures total.)  I caught some pretty stunning stuff; here's a brief gallery, complete with captions.  Be very, very jealous.

Some of my favorite fish; they swim in small schools in the rockier parts of the bay.

I'm not sure what fish this is.  It's one of the more generic fellows that swim through from time to time.

I feel kind of like a submarine should come rumbling through here.  Oooooo-ummmmmm...

I caught this guy accidentally turning towards me and got a quick shot.  Not the clearest picture, but isn't it cool?  It tends to blend into the sand, save for the neon orange fins and a light electric blue streak running from the mouth to the gills.

Water pouring over one of the rocks, with the sunset behind.  You can see that, during the dry season, the sun disappears into the haze rather than the horizon.

Doesn't that foam look kind of delicious?  It's at this spot that we have a slightly dangerous game, of who can stay balanced on the rock the longest as the waves pummel us.  Falling off is pretty safe, however, since there's a deep spot just behind us that reaches seven or eight feet deep at high tide.  (This was taken at mid-tide, when the water was probably stomach-deep.  The waves that wash over the walk are gentler and don't really take much skill to withstand.)

I also got some quasi-artistic shots, and they were totally on purpose.  Really.

The little wave that could.  (On a serious note, I had no idea an iPhone could take such good pictures.)

I got Beth to take a picture of me (our goggles-strap was broken so I had to hold them to my face).  It's like sea-ception or something.  I feel proud of the artistic achievement.

Beth took a picture of her feet.

I took a dramatic picture of Beth framed against a sunset, sitting on a rock as the waves crash around her.  Slap a filter on it, and voila!  "This is real art, Emmet!  Dark and brooding."

Take a look at the beach; it's beautiful.

Ah, yes, Liberia.  It's good to be back.

–

About this series of posts: “Life at the Front” isn't sure what it's supposed to be, so it settled for part Ebola commentary and part missionary life, which ends up being pretty sporadic.

I'll be continuing this whenever possible, covering both the developments in my personal life and whatever news comes my way concerning the current Ebola outbreak. Including taking iPhone pictures of signs I've never seen before. (Guilty as charged.) My sisters tell me I look like a tourist. (Certainly not guilty as charged.)

But, I've got this notion in my mind that I'm writing down things that people are interested in. So I can afford looking slightly idiotic as I brandish my smart phone and fake a wide-eyed tourist look.

Dad and I are going in to Immigration sometime this week, so I should get enough story and picture fodder for Part IV—stay tuned!

Life at the Front: Part II (The Theo Post)

You know, I said previously that these posts focus on a cross between Ebola news and missionary life.  I wanted to do this primarily by narrating with a series of iPhone pictures, to give you an idea of what things are like in (almost) post-Ebola Liberia.

I plan to continue this approach.  However, I neglected to remember that a large number of my pictures focus on one very specific subject: the hilarious bundle of four-year-old energy known as Theo.

Obviously, this must be remedied.  Brace yourself.  (Some select captions feature Theo himself.)

–

Back in December, Theo broke his arm.  He had been jumping off of a pickup in one of his typically daring maneuvers, except this time it went a little too far.  He ended up having surgery and was shackled with an unwieldy cast.  (Theo didn't care for the cast too much, so one of his perpetual vices was to mess with it; one time he took it completely off while his mama was sleeping.)

Despite this, the little turkey was still hyperactive.  For instance, we brought him back a foam sword, which he has used to great delight.  (“Theo In Pictures” is a man after my own heart.)

Theo: "You and me, we had swords!  In the grass!"

His ninja moves were honed instantly, and he wreaked justice on our banana trees...with his cast still on:

(Note the bananas; we planted this tree last year, and it's getting close to producing!)

We took him to the beach a couple days after coming back, but that was a mistake with the cast.  He couldn't really swim, and the temptation to dunk his cast under the water was a little too much for him.  (He made it about twenty minutes without incident...but then it happened.  While I was watching him.  Oops.)

So maybe it wasn't the best idea.  We decided it would be better to wait for a full-on swimming spree till he had his cast off.

"That me!  And chicklet."  (On his way to get his cast off.)

"That me-o!"  (FREEDOM! Also, Brantlys, you'll be happy to learn that Stephen's ACU shirt is going to good use.)

So the day he got it off, we headed to the beach again, this time armed with snorkels and a camera.  Needless to say, Theo had a lot of fun.

"I splash the water - I make the water to go in Alice eye!  And mama looking like monster.  See, mama?  You look like monster."

Theo and Rebecca Epp, a friend of ours and a doctor who works at ELWA

(Frieda: Theo says he misses you!  He remembers you pretty clearly, probably the best as the owner of Mr. Fuchs.  Speaking of your “campus dog”, he followed us to the beach:)

What can I say?  Theo is the same Theo. Based on the antics he's had thus far, he's sure to feature in my later posts as well.

Catch you later...my man. *cool bike riding face*

"That me-o!  On my bike."

–

About this series of posts:“Life at the Front” isn't sure what it's supposed to be, so it settled for part Ebola commentary and part missionary life, which ends up being pretty sporadic.

I'll be continuing this whenever possible, covering both the developments in my personal life and whatever news comes my way concerning the current Ebola outbreak. Including taking iPhone pictures of signs I've never seen before. (Guilty as charged.) My sisters tell me I look like a tourist. (Certainly not guilty as charged.)

But, I've got this notion in my mind that I'm writing down things that people are interested in. So I can afford looking slightly idiotic as I brandish my smart phone and fake a wide-eyed tourist look.

Next up is Part III, which will feature dozens of new photos...including some ridiculously cool ones I took underwater.  Happy reading!

Life at the Front: Part I

A little crumpled but intact.

Shortly after I stepped off my Brussels Airlines flight and into the humid Liberian evening, I was handed a small pamphlet, three fold-out pages in length. “Welcome to Liberia!” it said, and without skipping a beat, the next line began, “There is an outbreak of Ebola.” It went on to cover the basics—what the disease is, how you contract it, what the symptoms are.

Just one of the many changes that have come to Liberia since I left. After getting off the shuttle bus—where I received my pamphlet—I was directed to wash my hands at a large fifty-gallon cooler with “EBOLA IS REAL” printed on it. I did so. (Why they would have incoming passengers wash their hands, I'm not sure. Perhaps it is to accustom travelers to the reality of the situation in Liberia—a little practice, maybe?) There was no place to dry my hands, so I patted them on my clothes and hoped it wouldn't bleach them.

It was an encouraging sign of progress, especially since the only public notices I recall when I left in early August was an “EBOLA IS REAL” banner strung across ELWA Junction.

Going in, a woman in scrubs checked my temperature and let me into the airport building. Getting through immigration and customs was thankfully brief, and by my count we had collected all twenty-three of our checked bags in record time. I won't spend long on the reunion that followed outside the airport, but suffice it to say that it was wonderful to see many familiar faces again (including the face of one ornery four-year-old.)

My bowl of joliff rice.  (I went back for seconds.)

We got back to our house and unloaded our luggage, piling them in the living room. (Most of them are still piled there; we're digging through the mountain bit by bit.) I ate (JOLIFF RICE—forgive my enthusiasm), showered, and hit the sack.

I woke up to rain the next morning, which is unusual in the dry season. But for an American readjusting to the hot and humid climate, it was a beautiful thing—I even had to pull on a sheet halfway through the night.

Going out that afternoon revealed even more changes. ELWA Hospital had been restructured in some ways, with new fences and tarps. The ELWA 2 unit was no longer hidden behind sheet metal; there was an entrance cut from the zinc with a banner hung to the left. (It read, “Welcome to ELWA-II Ebola Treatment Unit”, alternating between sinister block letters—“Ebola”—and a curvy “Welcome” to a place no one wanted to be welcomed to.) You can see it pictured below.

We went past it and out the middle entrance to the ELWA Campus, right beside MSF's ETU. For those of you who don't speak Acronymic, it was Medecins sans Frontieres—“Doctors Without Borders”—and their Ebola Treatment Unit. MSF has been doing much of the Ebola response since the outbreak began.

The MSF sign outside the ELWA Campus

A glimpse of ELWA-3, the world's biggest Ebola unit, through an orange fence.

While driving, we went past the Chinese ETU, which was up before any of the American units. (I'm not sure where the American units are, but I didn't see any American presence—there were Ebola response vehicles, but those were often UN or Liberian.)

One of our errands was to go up to the supermarket. We visited the Exclusive first, and had our temperatures taken and washed our hands with bleach water before going in. Handshakes, where they happened, were replaced with first-bumps and elbow-knocks. Still, we saw many familiar faces, and the store looked the same as always.

A sign at Rehab Junction, warning Liberians that Ebola is still on the prowl.

Yes, much of Liberia was the same as it was six months ago. There were some aesthetic things that changed, but everyone was out and about, buying and selling in the market, honking wildly, waving for taxis, manning their commercial stands on the side of the road. (That's a big phrase for a plywood shack and wares, but it works.)

However, everywhere we went, we saw many different signs of Ebola. (No, literally, look below: it's a sign of Ebola about signs of Ebola.) Billboards, banners, and even logos on cars.

One of the half-dozen signs posted about Ebola at ELWA Junction

An Ebola Task Force vehicle,
one of several Ebola-related vehicles I saw
while we were out.

I mean, an outsider might just take this in stride. Ebola was serious, people are working on getting it contained. Cool.

Except, save for that aforementioned banner over ELWA Junction, these are the first outward signs I've seen of the outbreak in Liberia, and I left in August—months after the outbreak began, and in the middle of the horrifying exponential growth that gripped the country for several months afterward.

Bike tires for sale near Rehab Junction

Now do you see it? To go from a solitary banner during a week in which there were fifty cases of Ebola to billboards and preventions everywhere is a solid indication of the progress that has been made. The huge drop in cases seen at the end of 2014 and the beginning of 2015 was not without reason. A massive campaign was launched to make sure the average Liberian knew Ebola was real, and even indoctrination can be good. In this case, the same things were repeated so often that they actually took root—Ebola is real, Ebola is dangerous, wash your hands and don't touch sick people.

I'm withholding full commentary, considering I've only been here a couple days. There are obviously exceptions. Dad went in to an electronics place yesterday afternoon without washing his hands, and then lectured the security officer afterward for neglecting to make him do so. (The security protested that he didn't think of it and didn't want to bother him.) Still, what I've seen so far is encouraging.

Moving on, there are other, subtler changes to Liberia. For instance, bicycles have made huge gains in the past several years. Today I spotted someone selling bike tires—common enough for regular tires, but it shows how prevalent bikes have become in Liberia. Also, just in case you don't know what gum is actually called, here's a sign correcting you:

What can I say?  It's good to be back. I'm only here for three and a half months, but it's going to be an awesome three and a half months.

I could say some rubbish about how our garden represents our lives—our banana/plantain trees are beginning to produce and our papaya tree is big-o—but that analogy would break down when it comes to the mess of weeds and abandoned plants we have beside the house. Suffice it to say that we're really moving forward and everyone feels renewed and chomping at the bit. 

Till next time! 

****

About this series of posts: “Life at the Front” isn't sure what it's supposed to be, so it settled for part Ebola commentary and part missionary life. Definitely a mix of styles. And it's also really sporadic, so sorry about that.

I'll be continuing this whenever possible, covering both the developments in my personal life and whatever news comes my way concerning the current Ebola outbreak. Including taking iPhone pictures of signs I've never seen before. (Guilty as charged.) My sisters tell me I look like a tourist. (Certainly not guilty as charged.)

But, I've got this notion in my mind that I'm writing down things that people are interested in. So I can afford looking slightly idiotic as I brandish my smart phone and fake a wide-eyed tourist look.

Happy reading.

Speaking of faking a wide-eyed tourist look...