Leaving Nimba County, we headed for Gbanga, where we turned towards Voinjama at the junction. The road turns to marram / laterite and fortunately had recently been graded. Dust swallows vehicles following in tow. Trucks carrying supplies and goods to distant State capitols, speed down these roads, weaving around corners, flying down the hills to get enough speed to make it up the next hill. We pull over as the dust cloud blinds the view, similar to a snow storm whiteout.
African roads and travel is a dangerous trip, with often overloaded trucks, excessive speeds, stupid drivers and poor road conditions. On this past week we encountered at least five trucks that had either run off the road, tip on their side or were perpendicular in the ditch. Often the position of the crash makes one wonder how the heck that happened. We found one large almost semi size truck laying on its side in the ditch, bags of produce, boxes of goods scattered all over, crushed chickens and other items damaged.
A smashed truck cab that had been tipped back up-right.
We drive on....
Stopping at a Total gas station in Zorzor, we refuel with diesel and energy drinks.
Arriving in Voinjama, we have a similar task as conducted in Sanniquellie.
Ebola had recently broken out in the area, carried across the Guinea border by some people who had been infected in neighboring country. Ebola has no cure and one dies an excruciating death. The health department in Voinjama had instructed people not to shake hands with people, share phones, etc - the list went on. We carried on with our trip. I had been informed that as long as you don't touch a person dying from Ebola, you'll probably be ok. So with that information in mind, I made sure to avoid dying people...which wasn't ever a problem. The others in the trip, Liberian from Monrovia, were more paranoid and only wanted to eat at the UN compound. I went to the same place I always go for breakfast, a dusty little shack with a French speaking kid who scrambles some eggs and puts them in a French baguette. Wash it down with some nasty Nestle cafe coffee and the day can begin.
Breakfast with Mac, the fearless driver.
As is the case during trips to the field, one needs to follow the cultural protocol of holding meetings with some of the higher level authorities. We happened to hold our protocol meeting in the evening after arriving in Voinjama. The room is filled with people and I give an update on where the infrastructure construction phase of the project is and what the intent of our trip is. This project has taken years to develop and we are now finally approaching the part where shovels will hit the ground. They were happy for this fact, even though I re-iterated that it will still take months before construction begins. This stuff doesn't happen over night, especially when approvals are required. One man stands up to speak and says:
"There is a parable among the (didn't catch the name of the tribe). The parable says that the black bird (read: crow) tells people when it is time to start planting crops and it's the white bird (read: cattle egret) that tells the people it is time for harvest. I see that that white bird has arrived and these projects are about to begin". He proceeds to express his sincere gratitude and thankfulness for this project. "Water if life" he echoes from another person. "Water is life and these projects will soon begin so we have water flowing in our city once again."
After completing the site visit to the proposed mini water yards with potential bidders, we set off to check the river intake and old water treatment plant site. The flow in the river gets fairly low during the dry season, but there was still a good volume flowing. While stomping around along the edge of the river I see a large green leaf with four
kola nuts embedded in some sort of white paste. As we walk up from the river edge and I see this strange item, I stop, point at the leaf and call out to the Liberians ahead of me. "Hey, what is this contraption by the river?" There is some nervous laughter and someone says, "Just ignore it, let's go. Don't talk about it?" That didn't satisfy my curiosity and I asked again, "Seriously, what is this for, some voodoo thing?" Again the nervous laughter and encouragement to keep walking. "Just keep walking, let's go". I felt like that little kid that no adult wanted to explain something to because I may not understand. Later I realize they were afraid, the superstition got the best of them and they don't want to mess with someone else's voodoo.
Across the river was where I had seen the old water bottle filled with some sugar cane pieces and water, tied up to a sugar cane stock with red rope. This was to ward off any possible thief who may think about taking some sugar cane from the field. The
secrete societies, witchcraft and other behind the scenes cultural activities are rife in Liberia.
Along the banks of the river near the river intake.
Friday is market day in Voinjama so we stopped to pick up a few things. Ebola was quickly forgotten as we pushed our way through crowds of vendors, buyers and on lookers. The heat, the dust, the smells, the sounds - sensory overload.
Picked up a bag of hot peppers to make some hot sauce. Items, produce, for sale are laid out on the ground in literally hand full portions. With limited finances, people will buy only what they need for that day or for a few days. Everything sold is available in day size quantity. I have seen a lady with a full box of corn flakes take a hand full out of the box and putting in a little plastic bag. After tying the bag and filling 100s of little baggies, she sells the individual almost bite size quantity. Literally living hand to mouth.
Escargo, a bunch of snails for sail. The lady had to continually hit the snails so they stopped from gliding away.
Here she rearranges the piles.
For lunch we stop at Under the Tree, a small open air restaurant where one sits in the ubiquitous plastic chair with plastic table. Food is cooked on charcoal, large pots of rice and pepper fish soup. You battle the flies for the rights of your food and ignore the cleanliness around you. My take is, as long as the food is hot, I'll give it a go.
A young boy selling gas in cleaned out mayonnaise jars. Again, the day to day expenses are limited to only what you can afford for now. A gas tank is never filled to the top. To much risk including someone may ask to borrow your car at which you will need to oblige and of course they won't top up the tank. Some one may steal your car and with it, your full tank of gas. Someone may siphon the gas out of your car at night. So many reasons to only put in the bare minimum. Gas sold by these vendors is often watered down and has high probability of containing impurities or sediment that will clog your fuel filter. Never buy from these vendors unless you are in very desperate measures.
Speaking of dangerous fuel, I was given a bottle of the local
palm wine. It was a bit early in the day but after a few hours of pressure building up in the bottle (we had to unscrew the top to release the pressure build up) I decided to give it ago and be done with it. This sap is tapped from the palm tree, usually up near the top of the tree where the flower or nuts are. The sap is collected and then allowed to ferment after which it is (sometimes) filtered and sold. The cloudy white bottle had a strong odor of fermenting silage, similar to what I smelled during summer jobs working on a farm in Minnesota; corn rotting near the silos.
Examining the bottle, making sure the little bees are out and there are no floating debris hang out inside the bottle.
Mental preparation to by-pass the nasty smell and take a chug of this stuff.
Consuming
After shocks. This particular palm wine was much sweeter and (believe it or not) tasted better than the time I tried it in Congo. There was a sweetness that tried very hard to overcome the nasty flavor...I suspect overtime one enjoys the sweetness and flavor become acquired.
Further down the road, heading back to Monrovia Saturday morning we stop at a road side market to pick up a mangos and avocado and other intricacies as you may desire....such as these giant grubs. People like to squeeze out the innards and fry them up. If I can collect enough money as a dare to do this, I will consume...until then I'll pass. These things are still alive in the bag, squiggling around, looking for their home in the earth.
Another lady selling snails, I am not sure how they prepare these.
The road side market.
