Welcome to EcoBank

In order to receive a paycheck in Liberia, we were required to open an account at EcoBank.  Here, every month, we receive an automatic deposit into our accounts to cover living expenses, travel costs, and any other reimbursed spending we are due.  At our Pre-Service Training, we completed the opening of the account and received debit cards to use with our accounts. 

Upon moving to Pleebo, we located the EcoBank, and to our disappointment, found that there is no ATM there.  Instead, there is a small, hot, poorly-ventilated building with a very long line.  The first time we went to the bank was with Mitch and Tyler, two volunteers from Kanweaken, and Katie and Sarah, two volunteers from Barclayville.  We got there around 10:00 am on a Saturday morning, and upon our arrival, we found out that the system at the Harper branch was down, resulting in Pleebo’s branch to be very very busy.  Right away, I decided not to get money that day, hoping that another Saturday would yield better results.

We went a few weeks later, again on a Saturday, and experienced the same line and the same issue.  Luckily, our DEO (District Education Officer) saw us going there and got us moved to the front of the line to complete our withdrawal.  While this was convenient, I also hated  it.   We are trying to establish a name for ourselves as typical Liberians – cooking like Liberians, washing our clothes in the same manner, eating the same food, and waiting in the same line at the bank – but she felt that we should not have to put up with the line. 

The next month, Sarah and I decided to try the bank out on a weekday morning, especially since we do not have to be at school until 1:15 pm.  On a Wednesday morning, we left our house at 8:00 and made the 25 minute walk to the bank.  We got there, only to find that the bank does not open until 8:45!  Once the doors opened, we were the first ones in the manager’s office, and he was very helpful to us.  Unfortunately, we did not have our account numbers, so he had to look those up.  An hour later, he had them, and we could continue with our transaction.  Forty-five minutes later, we had our money and were headed out the door. 

The next month, we decided to try again the same day, seeing as it had worked pretty well the last time.  We got there early on a Wednesday morning, were the first ones in his office, and in 45 minutes, we had our money!  This time, we had our account numbers, so the process was not as long.  Though it’s not an ideal banking situation (Cornerstone, thanks for letting me get used to actual customer service and a quick banking experience!), we could have things worse.  We are lucky to have a branch of this bank in our town, instead of having to travel in order to bank.  We are also fortunate to teach in the afternoon, so that we can bank in the morning. 

As for that debit card we were issued this past August, it still sits in my room in Pleebo, waiting for the day it can see an ATM.  I doubt that day will come, but one never knows.  Until then, I’ll look forward to visiting the branch manager of Pleebo to withdraw some funds and make awkward small talk.  It’s all in a day’s work. 

Thor, the WonderCat

For those of you who know my preferences in animals, I have made it pretty clear over the years that I really do not care for cats.  I find them moody and annoying, to be honest.  That being said, upon moving into our house, we quickly realized our rat problem and decided that getting a cat would be the easiest way to solve it. 

Asking around, our neighbor Annie explained that her cat was pregnant and should be having babies soon.  It sounded like it should happen around the end of September, and Sarah and I were really excited to have a “cat baby,” as everyone in Pleebo calls a kitten.  One morning, we went to see Annie to buy bananas, and she explained to us that the momma had had her babies.  They were so cute, but we immediately agreed that we wanted the yellow and white striped one.  She said that we could take him home in six weeks or so, and we left, feeling excited about our life with a cat.

After thinking long and hard about possible names for this child of ours, we decided upon Thor.  We wanted him to have an epic name, for we knew he was going to be doing a lot of epic killing.  Fast forward six weeks later, and the children came over with our cat.  We did not realize it was time to take him, and we asked if we could pick him up the next morning.  They said that was fine, and we went on with our night. 

The next morning, after buying a litter pan and some small bowls for his food and water, we went over to Annie’s to pick him up.  We walked up and asked Annie if it was alright if we picked up our cat baby.  She looked at us and then looked at June Boy, who quickly ran behind the house and returned with a paint can.  Inside, we saw all of the kittens, dead.  We were mortified…  We asked June Boy what happened, and he quickly responded, “The ma got hungry in the night.” And that was that.  Business as usual was continuing around their house, but we were stopped in our tracks. 

Apparently, this is a common occurrence, which we figured out after talking to Annie some more.  If they do not feed the mother enough and she gets hungry, she will eat her kittens.  That morning, Annie said she had woken up to four dead kittens, a bloody floor, and the ma sitting on the other side of the room.  When we were at their house hearing the story, the ma was sitting underneath the sugar cane near their house staring at us.  Sarah and I have decided that she just did not want her baby being adopted by the white women and fixed that problem herself.  Whatever it was, it was rather tragic.

Sarah and I are still waiting for a kitten.  We have told Annie that when her cat gets pregnant again, we will take a cat baby.  And believe me, when they bring one over for us, we will be ready.  No more of this taking a chance business…  Montez, we cannot wait to meet you :) 

The Circle of Life is a real thing.

Sitting on our back porch, we see a lot of crazy things happen.  Children are getting beat, wheelbarrows full of things to buy are walking by the house, and animals of all kind are running around in the yard.  One day, however, was especially traumatic for us.  That was the day the mother hen lost one of her chicks.

Sarah and I were sitting on the back porch, per usual, just shooting the breeze and enjoying our lives.  All of a sudden, I hear this awful squaking coming from the hen in our neighbor’s yard and I look up to see her flying as best she can.  (The chickens here really do fly…I’ve seen them up in the trees, four or five feet off the ground.  I guess that’s what happens when you don’t pump a hen full of steroids…) 

I looked up and saw this hawk flying away rather quickly with a baby chick in its mouth.  As it flew out of our sight, we could still here it chirping for its mom.  Sarah was traumatized, and after sitting there for a minute, I spoke (with all the wisdom I could muster), “And that’s how the cookie crumbles.”  We laughed about that, but overall, the experience was pretty sad.

A few weeks later, sitting on our back porch again, we hear this awful noise coming from the same neighbor’s yard.  Looking over, we noticed a dog was chasing a duck; after a few feet, it succeeded in catching said duck and running away with his dinner.  Our neighbor chased after the dog, throwing whatever he could pick up from the ground, but it was of no use.   Dogs run free around the neighborhood, and after seeing that dog eat one like it was no big deal, I can understand why Liberians are not fond of pet puppies. 

Living with livestock all around us has made me realize a few things about life here and about life in Nebraska.  First of all, there is no birthing season here.  Animals are having babies year-round; in fact, the same mama duck just had her second set of ducklings since we have been in Pleebo.  Additionally, animals here are left to their own devices.  While they are small, the owners will feed them, but once they are big enough to roam around, dinner is left on their shoulders to find.  This is find, with the way all of our garbage is just thrown in a big pile behind our house, but it also goes against the entire idea of feeding my dogs twice a day, every day. 

Mama with her ducklings...before the dog incident.

Liberian animals are doing just fine, though, don’t get me wrong.  The animals roaming our neighborhood seem rather happy, and they never cause us problems.  My only request is that the roosters understand they should only be crowing in the morning – not whenever they feel like it throughout the day.  They wake me up at 5:00 am, and they’re still annoying at 2:00 pm.  I don’t understand their schedule…in fact, I’m beginning to think they don’t have one.  

Adventures with the coal pot – sangria, too!

Arriving in Liberia, I knew I wasn’t going to have running water or electricity.  What I did not bargain for, however, is not having a stove to cook with.  Living with our home stay family in Kakata, I soon realized what life with a coal pot would be like.  Though Mona, my sister, was rather adept at lighting the coal pot, I realized that upon moving out to Maryland County, I was going to have a pretty steep learning curve.

Needless to say, I underestimated how long it would take me to truly master the coal pot.  While we were able to light it and cook some decent meals, our first month at site was rough.  Sarah and I went through so many boxes of matches, pieces of rubber, and last bits of patience, I never thought we would make it through.  Today, however, we have it down to an art, and I’m pretty proud of our coal-potting skills! :)

Once we mastered lighting the coal pot, it became time to experiment with what types of meals we could make for ourselves.  Some have been crash and burn experiences, while others have been all-star recipes we have repeated too many times to remember.  Our lunch is typically kidney bean soup and rice, which is a cheap and filling meal to make.  Dinner during the week is something equally as quick and easy to make.

Some favorites of ours include spaghetti (we put okra in the sauce for a little something extra) with garlic bread, fried rice, and eggs and tortillas (yes, we make our own tortillas!).  Other meals we have tried with varied success include sweet potato perogies, peanut butter soup, Spanish rice, refried beans, and chicken – our take on a Mexican night, pasta with a four-cheese sauce (thanks, Mom!) and chicken, jollof rice, Indian masala with chickpeas, eggplant parmesan, bean burgers, macaroni and cheese, onion rings, popcorn, and many more. 

Like I said, some have been huge successes (eggplant parmesan!), while others have been huge failures (like the time we made jollof rice so spicy we couldn’t finish it).  They all make great stories, though, and it is fun to laugh about it now.  We have an entire cookbook to work through while we’re here, and I’m excited to discover what else we can make.

Spaghetti with okra and garlic bread

Bean burgers!

Spaghetti with real tomato sauce

Baking with the coal pot

In the baking world, we have been adventurous, as well.  Some of our favorites in that department include banana bread, brownies, and muffins.  We have so many fruits available to us here, though, so after training at the end of November, our goal is to experiment a little more with what goodies we can bake :)

One of the reasons I wake up in the morning…

For anyone who knew me in the States, I think it’s fair to say that I absolutely despised donuts.  Just the smell of a fresh Krispy Kreme, and I was ready to run out of the room.  I’m sure all of my friends thought I was crazy, but something about the thought of donuts was enough to make me queasy. 

Enter Peace Corps Liberia and Zone Two of Pleebo.  In our first few days at site, we noticed how many people would walk by the house every morning selling donuts.  You can hear them coming from a mile away, and it’s so tempting to just let them pass by the house.  Finally, we caved and bought two…just to see what all the hype was about.  Little did we know our lives were about to be changed.

We quickly learned that some donuts were better than others and that it is better to buy a donut from someone with a full bucket than to buy the ones at the bottom.  A fresh donut is a better donut, obviously!  In time, we came to the realization that one boy’s donuts were the best we had tried, and we decided to make a concentrated effort only to buy from him. 

Since that day three months ago, Sarah and I have formed quite the relationship with Jim.  He knows that if he walks by our house, we will more than likely buy a donut…or five.  Ideally, we would like to think that we are supporting an education fund; the chances of that are slim, but we can hope :)  In all reality, I think Jim sells donuts for his ma every day.  I’d estimate his age to be anywhere from 12-13 years old, and he is one of the sweetest kids we have met here. It’s unfortunate that he does not attend school (at least that we know of), but that’s how it is here for a lot of children.

Jim!

Jim is a welcome site when he passes by our house, and I think he knows this as much as we do.  Jim doesn’t judge us.  He simply understands what we need a few mornings a week – the best donuts in Pleebo.  

“Somebody listen please: it used to be so hard bein’ me.”

Sitting on our porch, in our house, or on the school campus, Pleebo is never quiet.  Instead, you can always hear something going on, whether that is a rooster crowing, a child crying, or the neighbors blasting the local radio station.  Music here in Liberia is a mixed bag – every day, you will hear something different.

A few local favorites my readers will recognize include Lil’ Wayne, Chris Brown, Rihanna (“Diamonds” is played much too often here), Akon, and Brandy.  Additionally, we hear plenty of local music…most of which we cannot understand.  Songs with titles like “My Pot Can’t Boil,” “Enter My Center,” “Chop My Money,” and “Shake Your Bum” are everyday occurrences for us.  Don’t get me wrong, we can sing them with the best of them, but a little variety is nice every now and then.

To combat this infiltration, Sarah and I are making full use of the vast music selection we each brought with us.  We’ve been making the rounds, too.  Lately, I’ve been discovering a lot of random stuff I put on my iPod this summer; iTunes’ Genius option is, well, genius!  Sarah has rediscovered a lot of the bands she put on her iPod, as well, and I’m grateful for her introducing me to some great stuff.

One of our best decisions, musically, however, came from my iTunes library.  Many, many years ago, I was a big fan of Ashlee Simpson.  Yes, I went through that dark phase, but so did every other girl my age in the United States, I’m sure.  For some reason, I thought it imperative to rip her album “Autobiography” onto my computer…and Sarah and I have now listened to it altogether too many times. 

Our next goal is to introduce it to our Liberian neighbors; I’m expecting mixed reviews, but that’s alright.  The speakers I brought with me are loud enough to compete with Robertson’s radio, and that is all that matters.  We can sing along to “Autobiography” for the next two years, and who knows, maybe we’ll get them hooked :)

Oh, and if you’re wondering, the title of this post is from the artist herself.  Ashlee Simpson, thank you for your support during the past three months.  You’ve never doubted us, you’ve been your angsty self just when we’ve needed it, and I can’t wait to see how you’ll be a part of our lives for the next two years.  Oh, and Mom, thanks for buying that CD ten years ago – it’s by far the best purchase you’ve ever made. 

The Sisterhood of the Poopy Bathroom

Disclaimer: The story you are about to read is a tale of events which took place in the second week of September.  You may find yourselves queasy or just plain disgusted upon reading this, but I wish to remind you, the reader, that you are not required to read every post found on this blog.  If you do wish to enjoy this saga, I ask that you are able to laugh about it after, as Sarah and I can.  If you think about it, the story is quite funny.

 One of the things I knew I was signing up for by accepting my position with Peace Corps Liberia was a life without running water and electricity for two years.  With this came a life of pit latrines, or “squattie-potties,” as they are sometimes called.  Fortunately, every house that Peace Corps volunteers are living in here in Liberia is required to have an indoor bathroom with an actual commode; needless to say, we are pretty lucky. 

Moving into our house, we were blown away by how nice our bathroom was.  Everything was nicely tiled, it was rather spacious, and we had a toilet – we were set for the next two years!  By the next day, however, we soon realized that everything was not peaches and cream as we had imagined it being.  To flush our toilet, we have to pour a bucket of water down it; not a bad deal, really, but the problem came with the fact that not everything was flushing.  Instead, toilet paper would hang out for a while before it finally disappeared down the drain. 

An easy fix, we thought – we’ll burn all of our toilet paper every few days, and life will be great.  We continued with this tradition for a few weeks and noticed no improvement.  Instead, we noticed small amounts of water starting to leak on the floor every time we poured a bucket of water down the commode to flush it.  Great.  With this water came the smell that comes with a dirty bathroom – I’m sure you can all imagine what that is like.

In September, we had visitors to Pleebo and after they left, we noticed our toilet was very broken.  This time, instead of a small amount of water leaking when it was flushed, a deluge was appearing from underneath the commode any time we poured even half a bucket of water into the toilet.  During this time, we were calling our landlord, our DEO, our PTA chairlady, and the principal, asking for them to find us a plumber ASAP. 

We continued using our toilet for the next week, hoping that a plumber would arrive soon, and nothing happened.  Running out of ideas, we headed over to our neighbor, Patrick, and asked him for some advice.  Thankfully, he knew a plumber who was able to come within two days.  Patrick’s house has two bathrooms, and this plumber had done all of his work there.  Mr. Freeman was to come over after school on Friday, so on Thursday morning, Sarah and I made a decision. 

I travelled to the market and picked up lots of plastic bags, four towels, and two long handled cook spoons.  (You know what’s coming…)  After school, we did what was necessary.  Our toilet had sat for a week of use without a single bucket of water down it, due to the major leakage going on all over our bathroom floor.  With Mr. Freeman coming the next day, we knew we had to make the situation a little more bearable for him.  With Sarah serving as the claws of the operation, and I as the garbage collector, we emptied the toilet as quickly as possible into the multitude of plastic bags I bought in the market.  We threw this away outside, washed our hands with lots of soap, and settled back into a pseudo-normal life.

Mr. Freeman’s visit the next day brought with it interesting news…  The place they put the septic tank is very swampy and the water level is high.  The reason that our toilet does not flush well is due to this high water level and high pressure inside the tank.  To combat this, he broke into the side of the tank and added a pipe which drains into a ditch near the house.  Any time the tank reaches that point, it drains out the pipe and allows for our toilet to flush.

He was also gracious enough to completely clean out our commode and re-cement it to the floor with enough cement to hold it through any storm.  That toilet is not coming off the floor any time soon, and for that we are grateful.  Within two days of talking to Patrick, we got our predicament sorted out and our normal life back. 

I never would have thought that I would one day scoop the poop out of a toilet, but I guess now I can say I’ve done everything.  I’m hesitant to share this story here on my blog, but it’s so funny now, that I had to.  Life here surprises me constantly, and this is just another shining example of the mystery behind the door of every new day.  I wouldn’t change it for the world, though; I mean, how many people do you know who can tell a story like that and laugh about it?  :)