Adventure in Liberia
There were no Calgon moments in Liberia.
If you have no idea what a "Calgon moment" is, you are seriously too
young and have missed out on a vintage commercial where a hassled woman
pleads for soothing bubbles to take away the stress in her life, if only
for the length of a bubble bath. There certainly was stress, but
there was no place for a bubble bath in my backyard. This little
zinc enclosure was the only place I had to bathe. And, I judged my
days by how many bucket baths I took. It was very normal to take a
couple in one day. On really hot days, I sometimes took three or
four baths just to cool down. A really hot day required five trips
inside the enclosure. That didn't often happen, but it did on
occasion. I even remember some nights when it was so hot my skin
would actually sting. I had to take another bucket bath to cool
down and then pray I'd fall asleep before the stinging started up again.
You may already think that this would be simply unbearable. But,
let me tell you just a little more about my experience. There was
no electricity. That meant no fans, certainly no air-conditioning,
no refrigeration, no ice, and no television. However, in my
neighborhood, watching the white man was a huge form of
entertainment. There was no concept of privacy. When I
lounged around in bed reading, neighbors peeked in the windows to
see. If I sat on my front porch with a grapefruit in hand, hungry
little children came over to watch me eat. I don't know about you,
but my parents always told me to eat my vegetables because starving kids
in Africa didn't have enough to eat. At those moments, I always
offered them my fried okra (which I still will not eat). However,
on my porch in Zwedru, I didn't want to share my grapefruit.
I usually did though.
Now, remember the entertainment role I had in the neighborhood and then
consider taking a bucket bath. Yes, neighbors also came out of
their homes to watch as the white man took a bath. I learned to
lather up, wave, and continue lathering. One time, as a visiting
guest took a bath, one of the little neighborhood kids wandered into the
zinc enclosure. None of them dared do that to me, which was just
fine by me. But, this guest inspired no fear, I guess. When she
saw the toddler, she squealed, "Oh, you're a mess!" and she gave him a
bucket bath, too.
There is one other way to take a bucket bath. In this photo, my
friend Joshua's son, Kevin, demonstrated how it was done at his
home. I know that I never looked that cute when I took mine.
Every time I see this photo, Baby Kevin is adorable.
As long as I'm talking about all things
bathroom, I should tell you about my outhouse. I'm convinced it
was the worst one in the entire country. All my friends
agreed. Anyone who had to use it once made sure they went to the
bathroom before coming to my home for their second visit.
My outhouse was a two-seater with individual stalls. One stall was
unlocked and open for the entire community. Like I said, there
appeared to be no concept of privacy where I lived. People I
didn't know were in my yard and outhouse at any and all hours of the
day.
My side of the outhouse was locked, but the "luxury" stopped
there. I never shut the door completely when I entered my
stall. And, I always kept my left hand firmly grasped upon the
door jam. I did that because I was never completely certain the
floor would support me once I sat down. This little bit of
preparation,
hopefully, would prevent a seriously unthinkable and so "stinkable" fall
into muck worse than the swamp that bred all kinds of mosquitoes beyond
my backyard. That catastrophe never happened, but it was always in the
back of my mind and the forefront of my nightmares.
And, there's more. In the rainy season, any visitor in my outhouse
had to "dump and jump". The water level was so high during that
time of the year that there was a back splash. During the rains,
and the rest of the year, the outhouse was also filled with
cockroaches. They were mutant, jumbo, African cockroaches -
honestly, there were thousands of them lurking in the deep - and they
could pinch you where you never want a cockroach to pinch you.
Like I said, it was the country's worst outhouse. Possibly, the
world's worst!
Those outhouse moments were long ago, but this week I have been reminded
about the kind of stress that Africa uniquely brings. I've not
taken a "Calgon moment" yet, but perhaps one is due. Currently,
I'm in the process of getting my visa for the trip to Liberia. My
passport was sent to the Liberian embassy in Washington D.C. two weeks
ago. It's supposed to take a week. I had plenty of time, or
so I thought. No visa has been issued yet, and I'm scheduled to
leave in around 24 hours. The US embassy in Liberia has asked for
the State Department to intervene. I personally don't see how I
can have my passport in my hands before I'm scheduled to go to the
airport.* Fortunately for me, I lived in Africa for six
years. None of this comes as a surprise. If the flight needs
to be rescheduled, then, that's what will have to happen. It'll
all work out.
In the mean time, I've had to have a lot of emails and a phone call or
two with people in Washington D.C. and Liberia. During one
conversation, I was informed that there are people in Zwedru who
remember me and anticipate my arrival. That was the best possible
kind of news. After 14 years of civil war and then Ebola, I didn't
know if anyone I knew was still living in the area or even alive.
Obviously, some one (or more than one) is waiting for me. I have a
short list of six people whom I especially hope to locate. And
then, I was given a name. Dorbor. That's my friend Joshua, the
father of baby Kevin. One of the six!
Forget stress! Forget tickets! Forget cockroaches,
outhouses, and bucket baths! Forget the Liberian embassy and
visas! Hey, you can even forget Calgon! I'm on my way back
home to Zwedru (eventually) and at least one of my friends is waiting
for me.
* Oh, me of little faith. There were about eight people in an
email loop that circled around Washington D.C. this week. They
moved heaven, earth, and the Liberian Embassy. My passport with
that elusive visa arrived at my doorstep at 8:25 the evening before
departure. I'll be able to sleep well tonight and head on out to
Africa as planned in the morning. Go back and read my previous
blog if you need to know about good
kharma.