I didn’t realize the government could shut down.

In October, the American government shut down.  I had no idea, seeing as I am oblivious to much of the news around the world.  One day, out of the blue, we received a text from our new country director, informing us of the fact that the US government may be shutting down.  If this were to be the case, Peace Corps was ready to continue essential operations to ensure our safety, security, and relative comfort at site.  Sarah and I did not think too much about this, seeing as we feel very very safe at our site in the first place.

In October, as well, I began to wonder when I would receive all of the packages that I knew were waiting for me in Monrovia.  My birthday had just happened, and I also knew that my mom had sent a box or two before September that I still had not received.  Curious, and under the continuous pressure from people back home (*cough* Mom *cough* Dad), I called someone in the office to find out the status on these packages.  Due to the government shutdown, all site visits were postponed or cancelled until further notice; therefore, the car that was supposed to visit us in the southeast was put on hold.  Great. 

The government shutdown soon ended, and I was calling once again, trying to find out when I would receive my things from Monrovia.  A car finally came out to see us, with Dr. Shelly in tow, the second week of November.  Upon her arrival, she started unloading the car.  I had five packages (thanks Mom, Dad, Sally, and Aunt Gail!) and a letter (thanks Linda!), Sarah had one (thanks Aunt Mo!), and Shelly had also brought us mefloquine (our malaria medication) and multi-vitamins.  Hooray! 

Opening these boxes was fun and a nightmare, all in one.  Six boxes in total meant that we had a lot of items that needed to be mouse-proofed before we called it a night.  Thankfully, the tub we put our rice in was almost empty, so we had a lot of well-sealed space.  There, we put as much as we could fit, with the rest sitting on the table, in hopes that it would survive the night.  The next day, everything had survived, and we purchased another tub to stash our goodies in. 

Unfortunately, the room where the packages are held in Monrovia at the post office is not mouse-proofed, and my packages were proof of that.  In total, a mouse ate an entire package of chocolate chocolate chip muffin mix, a bag of goldfish, a package of crackers, a tub of cocoa (the plastic lid included!), a box of crayons, and the packaging to a pack of pens.  The funny thing was (or not so funny – sorry Mom) that only Mom’s boxes were eaten into.  Dad, Sal, and Aunt Gail – yours made it safely!  (A word to the wise for anyone else wanting to send something – please double Ziploc all food items.)  This isn’t fool-proof, but it does help deter them. 

Though some things were eaten, the large majority of things arrived safely, and Sarah and I couldn’t be happier.  Items like canned tuna, sauce mixes, candy, and stickers are all fun to receive and put to good use here.  Really anything that is a “add-[insert item here]-and-cook” item is perfect for us.  We have milk (or milk powder), water, eggs, oil, etc., here, so ready-to-go mixes are a perfect treat for us on a weekend now and then :)

When I arrived in Kakata for training, I received a text message from Becky with the surprise that I had a package to pick up.  Mom, I received your box, and Dad, I received a box from you!  Unfortunately both were eaten into – Mom, the cranberry-orange muffin mix (dang it!), and Dad, a box of Nerds.  All is well, though, because the mac & cheese and the southwestern bean soup mix made it safely! 

Though it sounds like I’m complaining about the mice, I’m really not.  It happens here, and it’s just something I’ve learned to deal with.  If a mouse eats one $1 item, and I still receive 10, I’m not upset about it at all (and you shouldn’t be, either!).  Family and friends, please don’t be discouraged by this post – I just want to share with you the trials and tribulations of receiving mail in a developing country.  And if you are deterred, I hope you take the time to at least write me a letter and update me on life. 

The worst of my boxes 

A tasty treat!
Thanks for the Oreos, Aunt Mo, and for the Nutella, Phil!

Now that the shutdown has ended, hopefully the Peace Corps vehicles will be making more regular runs to the southeast.  I know we would all appreciate it, and it is really one of the only ways they can keep tabs on us way out there in the bush!  Until then, we will wait patiently for our Christmas which occurs when we receive a package…or six. 

And we thought there were two houses there.

Our neighbor, Regina, and all of the women who live in her house are always walking by our porch in the morning to the market with baskets of dried fish, or what is locally called “bony.”  We always just thought that Regina bought the bony in bulk and then sold it in the market in order to make a small profit.  Little did we know what was really happening next door to us.

One day, we see this truck pull up to their house and start throwing large, gray things on the ground.  We could see blood, too, and we weren’t really sure of what was going on.  Being classic Liberian neighbors, we headed over there to see what was happening.  There, we came across large manta-ray-looking creatures.  Robertson was dragging each one across the yard towards the house next to Regina’s house.  We were so confused as to what was going on, and I think the entire neighborhood was amused at our confusion, for soon, there was a crowd of about 30 standing around these creatures.

Sarah asked Robertson what these creatures were called, and he informed us they are “sea bats.”  That was really helpful, Robertson, so thanks.  Seven or eight of these had been thrown off the truck before Robertson started dragging them to the house, and soon, they were all inside.  We asked him what Regina was going to do with them, and he informed us they were going to chop them up, smoke them, and sell them in the market.  He then invited us into (what we thought was) the house, and it turns out that Regina has four large smoking ovens inside where she smokes her bony. 

The selling of fish by this family made so much more sense to us at that moment.  Sometimes, if the wind is right, we will smell a very strong fish smell, and we were always wondering where that was coming from.  Additionally, Regina is always going to Harper, and we soon figured out she goes to buy lots of fresh fish to make bony.  The sea bat was an additional oddity, I think, and I’m guessing she gets a good price for that at the market.

Robertson and Sarah
...her face is the best. 

Yep, those are "sea bats." 

Sarah and I went inside for the night, marveling over what we had discovered about Regina and her job.  The next morning, I asked Robertson if they had gotten all of the sea bats into the ovens.  They had, and, in fact, they had been up until 11:00 pm doing it.  The dedication of that entire household to selling fish is amazing to me.  Regina works hard every day around her house, never mind all of the work she does into smoking the fish to sell in the market.  We sure are lucky to live next to such an industrious woman. 

In Liberia, we spy. We don’t cheat.

In Liberia, cheating on homework, a quiz, or an exam is not known as cheating.  Instead, I am constantly reminding my students not to be spying.  It sounds funny, I know, but now, I am so used to it, and I had to think for a while what we call this idea in America!  The idea of what constitutes spying is vastly different from anything else I had heard in my life, and my students and I quickly came to the same understanding about what I consider spying in my classroom.

When I give my students a quiz (of which they have two per marking period), I have to write the problems on the chalkboard and they then copy them down.  As I said earlier, I have the luxury of printing my final exams, which makes my life much easier, but not every volunteer has it that way.  While I’m giving them the quiz, I am reminding them of my rules.  For me, spying is indicated by the following happenings:  talking, looking at their friend’s paper, looking around the room, looking down into their lap (many have tried to hide cheat sheets in the pleats of their skirts, etc.), or opening up their copy book.  It sounds straightforward, right?  Wrong.  They still want to argue with me when I catch them spying. 

My penalty for spying?  I take your quiz and you get a zero.  On a final exam, I will put an X on your paper and take off 10% of the grade you have earned.  You get two X’s, I take off 20%, and so on.  Some students still don’t learn.  One of my favorite spying stories has to do with the twelfth grade physics final I was proctoring for our principal.  I had marked one student’s paper with an X for spying, and at the end of the final, he came up to me, wanting to discuss why I had marked his paper.  I told him I had seen him talking with his friend, so I marked both of their papers; talking was not acceptable during the exam.  “But Miss Moore,” he said, “if I don’t know the answer to the question, can’t I ask my friend for a small idea on it?”  No, anonymous student, you can’t.  That is spying. 

One of my favorite students in 10^th Grade D, Comfort, has my policy on spying down to an art.  As I am reminding them of my rules before a quiz or a final, she is always saying it with me.  Though I hate it when students mock me, Comfort saying “Keep your eyes on your own paper” in what she thinks is my voice is still hilarious.  Whatever helps her remember my rules, I guess.  

Final Exams (or the day I printed 12 different exams)

The school year in Liberia is divided into six, six-week marking periods, each of which ends with a final exam.  While I like how the students are having a comprehensive, structured final, at the end of every six weeks, I also dislike how the system is set up.  These students are taking nine subjects, each of which have a final exam in the same week. 

Near the end of the first marking period, we were reminded that our exam questions were due for review to the Vice Principal of Instruction.  Sarah and I wrote our exams, got them approved, and commenced typing them up.  (We are fortunate at our high school in that we can print all of our exams, rather than limiting the number of questions and having to write them on the chalkboard – it takes more time than you think!) 

To discourage my students from spying (see the following blog post), I created four versions of each exam.  That means I made twelve exams – four for each course I am teaching.  While this sounds like a lot of work, it’s really just more of me changing some numbers or changing the order of my exams.  It takes time, but I think it’s very worth it. 

While passing out my exams, I went down each row, giving test A/B/A/B, and in the next row, test C/D/C/D and so on.  Effectively, this means no student is sitting next to or diagonally from a student with the same exam as they have.  They hated this, let me tell you, but it worked out really well for me!  (Insert evil teacher laugh here.)

While my exams were easy to administer, Sarah’s were another story.  I teach two sections of 10^th Chemistry, two sections of 10^th Physics, and one section of 11^th Physics.  That meant that Sarah could proctor one room while I proctored the other – no problem.  When it came time to give her exams, however, we ran into an issue.  She teaches math to all three sections of the eleventh grade.  Liberian teachers proctor exams very different than we do, and she didn’t want one class to have an unfair advantage over the other two.  When it came time for her exam, we did the only practical thing – we crammed 160 + students into two classrooms.  I learned very quickly exactly how much room I needed to walk between rows that day, haha.  These students had had their literature exam right before her math exam, and for that exam, they were spread out between three classrooms and all along the hallway.  We, as quickly as possible, moved them all into two rooms, and administered her examination like champions.

It’s not an ideal situation, but we make due.  Final exams are not fun for anyone, and for us teachers, that’s no exception.  Grading finals for twelve hours is not something I was looking forward to, and it’s something I know I’m going to have to do eleven more times before I head back to America.  It’s fine, though – my students appreciate my feedback and I am glad to know that most of my students have paid attention to at least something I have taught them! :) 

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.