loud Liberian politics
I think I learned my lesson yesterday – typing directly onto blogger rather than as a text document first. And the long post about food (for Gail) was lost due to power issues. Sigh.
Which would not be a good post now because I’m very hungry, but I’m on a computer and don’t want to give it up. This internet café is a busy place indeed. There is light drizzle outside, so I’m not in a hurry to rush back to Awutu (the village where we stay) though I do need to do some work there before returning this evening for my first peace cell meeting.
The peace cells are by zone – there are 12 zones in the Buduburam Refugee Settlement – about 42,000 people total in the camp. Anyway, we meet with tribal leaders in the zones – today is zone 2 – and they discuss their concerns of returning to Liberia and establishing peace there. I missed the last one and have been guilted ever since by several folks – it was apparently a really incredible one, with tribal animosities stirring to the surface and being explicitly discussed and acknowledged and worked out.
But I just ran into one of the leaders, Rufus, and he made it really clear that I am expected and it is not appropriate for me to miss another, so I will be there come hell or high water.
That’s something I really like here are the way I can be blunt and direct, as can others. There are very particular rules of politeness and all, but it is possible to be very clear.
Oh, related but not really – the funniest thing this morning. We had a meeting about the school and Madison was 22 minutes late. He said, “I am sorry, I had some problems because I am lonely. I had to take care of that.” He went on with the lamenting, gritting his teeth and grabbing my table and exclaiming, “I need a partner!” Cathy and I could only laugh hopelessly, and I got it turned around so now he will learn to cook and we will come to dinner at his house before we leave.
Last night we had VERY LOUD arguments about politics – first Liberian (Fred and Dayton firmly supporting Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf and convincing me thoroughly, Emmanuel not) and then about Bush (Emmanuel firmly supporting, the rest of us adamantly not). Christine arrived home to ask what we were shouting about – but it was just animated and passionate – just as I like it. Then Dayton took me and Fred and Emmanuel out to drinks (I wasn’t going to go because I was tired, but Fred said, “Ah, you international volunteers don’t want to go anywhere unless all together?” And he said it to Gillian and Cathy, but I took it to heart even though it’s not true for me). We were all tired, but they got enough Gordon’s Spark into me and I stopped being polite. I told Emmanuel everything on my mind – from doubting his commitment to education because of his failure as a father to my frustration with bloated bureaucracy and inappropriate faith in the Great White Wonders of international volunteers. He said it was good, and he knows I’m fond of him and love PCO and the possibilities, but I’m starting to feel like all I do is criticize him so I need to ease up a bit.
Unrelated – every person I meet here is from a family where the father had about 3-6 wives. Fascinating. Dayton says it’s a real problem because of the problems that are created between the children of different mothers (he has two children, with one woman, and they are unable to get out of the Ivory Coast and join him here).
Dayton was willing to talk to me about all I wanted to, but when he was near tears to talk about missing his family, I realized that my queries could be tempered. He said he has many questions for me next time we meet, so we’ll see if he can take me to tears as well.
I was perhaps a little aggressive in my questions – for awhile I was only meeting men who had basically abandoned their children and took no responsibility for them, and they made me angry. But then Morris told me about being a single father and Dayton clearly would much rather be with his family than not. So, I had jumped to conclusions (at least in part because I had been told so) about how war had changed men’s roles in a way that was not the whole picture.
Dayton also made the best sense about what it means to be a refugee. He is 35 years old, separated by two wars from his children and their mother, and his life is completely on hold. He was in college when the war broke out in 1990, and he had to drop out to flee. And he’s been doing so ever since. His adult years have been spent trying to get by and suspending his real life … but he doesn’t whine at all. That’s the most impressive – I hear no whining. I hear honest reflections on what it means to see your family murdered, to escape from rebels, to be separated from everybody you love … but I don’t hear whining.
The most whining comes from me. I was so angry yesterday I was ready to march into the UNHCR compound and start spitting on commissioners. There are many treaties and world agreements that a fundamental children’s right is to education, and yet UNHCR does not build enough schools for all children and charges high fees to those who can actually get in. And their clinic costs money. And then I walked past a bulletin board outside their compound that says, “All UNHCR services are free.” But that is just a freaking lie!!
It is not safe to return to Liberia. People have been here since 1990 (though most I meet came in the late 1990’s). They are stuck here. And there is amazing self-reliance and ingenuity, but how is the world community not supplying the basics such as education – and clean water and toilets? ARGH!! It makes me all so really angry.
Well, internet time is up so hopefully it posts this time.
Which would not be a good post now because I’m very hungry, but I’m on a computer and don’t want to give it up. This internet café is a busy place indeed. There is light drizzle outside, so I’m not in a hurry to rush back to Awutu (the village where we stay) though I do need to do some work there before returning this evening for my first peace cell meeting.
The peace cells are by zone – there are 12 zones in the Buduburam Refugee Settlement – about 42,000 people total in the camp. Anyway, we meet with tribal leaders in the zones – today is zone 2 – and they discuss their concerns of returning to Liberia and establishing peace there. I missed the last one and have been guilted ever since by several folks – it was apparently a really incredible one, with tribal animosities stirring to the surface and being explicitly discussed and acknowledged and worked out.
But I just ran into one of the leaders, Rufus, and he made it really clear that I am expected and it is not appropriate for me to miss another, so I will be there come hell or high water.
That’s something I really like here are the way I can be blunt and direct, as can others. There are very particular rules of politeness and all, but it is possible to be very clear.
Oh, related but not really – the funniest thing this morning. We had a meeting about the school and Madison was 22 minutes late. He said, “I am sorry, I had some problems because I am lonely. I had to take care of that.” He went on with the lamenting, gritting his teeth and grabbing my table and exclaiming, “I need a partner!” Cathy and I could only laugh hopelessly, and I got it turned around so now he will learn to cook and we will come to dinner at his house before we leave.
Last night we had VERY LOUD arguments about politics – first Liberian (Fred and Dayton firmly supporting Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf and convincing me thoroughly, Emmanuel not) and then about Bush (Emmanuel firmly supporting, the rest of us adamantly not). Christine arrived home to ask what we were shouting about – but it was just animated and passionate – just as I like it. Then Dayton took me and Fred and Emmanuel out to drinks (I wasn’t going to go because I was tired, but Fred said, “Ah, you international volunteers don’t want to go anywhere unless all together?” And he said it to Gillian and Cathy, but I took it to heart even though it’s not true for me). We were all tired, but they got enough Gordon’s Spark into me and I stopped being polite. I told Emmanuel everything on my mind – from doubting his commitment to education because of his failure as a father to my frustration with bloated bureaucracy and inappropriate faith in the Great White Wonders of international volunteers. He said it was good, and he knows I’m fond of him and love PCO and the possibilities, but I’m starting to feel like all I do is criticize him so I need to ease up a bit.
Unrelated – every person I meet here is from a family where the father had about 3-6 wives. Fascinating. Dayton says it’s a real problem because of the problems that are created between the children of different mothers (he has two children, with one woman, and they are unable to get out of the Ivory Coast and join him here).
Dayton was willing to talk to me about all I wanted to, but when he was near tears to talk about missing his family, I realized that my queries could be tempered. He said he has many questions for me next time we meet, so we’ll see if he can take me to tears as well.
I was perhaps a little aggressive in my questions – for awhile I was only meeting men who had basically abandoned their children and took no responsibility for them, and they made me angry. But then Morris told me about being a single father and Dayton clearly would much rather be with his family than not. So, I had jumped to conclusions (at least in part because I had been told so) about how war had changed men’s roles in a way that was not the whole picture.
Dayton also made the best sense about what it means to be a refugee. He is 35 years old, separated by two wars from his children and their mother, and his life is completely on hold. He was in college when the war broke out in 1990, and he had to drop out to flee. And he’s been doing so ever since. His adult years have been spent trying to get by and suspending his real life … but he doesn’t whine at all. That’s the most impressive – I hear no whining. I hear honest reflections on what it means to see your family murdered, to escape from rebels, to be separated from everybody you love … but I don’t hear whining.
The most whining comes from me. I was so angry yesterday I was ready to march into the UNHCR compound and start spitting on commissioners. There are many treaties and world agreements that a fundamental children’s right is to education, and yet UNHCR does not build enough schools for all children and charges high fees to those who can actually get in. And their clinic costs money. And then I walked past a bulletin board outside their compound that says, “All UNHCR services are free.” But that is just a freaking lie!!
It is not safe to return to Liberia. People have been here since 1990 (though most I meet came in the late 1990’s). They are stuck here. And there is amazing self-reliance and ingenuity, but how is the world community not supplying the basics such as education – and clean water and toilets? ARGH!! It makes me all so really angry.
Well, internet time is up so hopefully it posts this time.
posted by NOLA at 4:50 AM
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