Obama Posters in Ghana

They were ubiquitous. I was completely remiss in capturing them until my ride to the airport, where I got two shots from the car.

If I had one dollar for every Obama poster I saw it would have paid for my week in Ghana. No, seriously. EVERYWHERE. Mostly of Obama and President Mills, but also of the entire Obama family. What an overwhelming welcome that must have been!

I'm told they will still be there a year from now.

And no, they did not do the same for W when he came to visit during his presidency.

Ghana: Cape Coast

What I was really in the mood for in Ghana was just to get to the beach and relax. I was tired, I wanted to process Liberia, and I wanted to get on my yoga mat. Jacob and I stayed in Accra a few days waiting for Brian to arrive instead of going north because of said exhaustion.

On our way down to the beach we stopped by Cape Coast Castle, the largest of the castles on this Western coast of Africa where the majority of slaves left African soil for the New World. As with the fort in Dakar, we stood in the dark rooms and did our best to imagine the horrors that had occurred between the walls. But of course, no imagination could have recreated it.

President Obama had visited the same castle exactly one month before us on his trip to Ghana, also the first stop in Africa of his presidency. In addition to a shiny new plaque commemorating the visit, we found a pile of gifts collecting dust in the corner of the dungeon, which provided one of my favorite shots of the day.


On the other side of the door of no return, we found fishing nets. To my delight, I found a fisherman asleep on his net and got this shot.


We continued on to the town of Elmina, a bursting at the seams fishing port. We stayed at the resort heralded in the two days prior New York Times article on Ghana, which was a nice spot but pretty secluded. Unfortunately, it was cold and overcast the two days we spent there. So much for beach time. It was so cold I was uncomfortable outside even in my sweatshirt and rain jacket.


One morning we went to the rainforest and went on a canopy walk, a system of rope bridges above the tree tops. Kinda cool, but there was no wildlife to be seen.



I arrived back in Accra rested, and ready to go home.

Counting the hours. 18.5 to go.

Gh(yaw)na: Accra

Well that was pretty lame, but anyway. I’m underwhelmed by Ghana. To start, I’m definitely grateful for a week to transition from Liberia to San Francisco: to process the summer and prepare for what lies ahead (Max I’m looking at you). Beyond that though, I’m not sure I’ll be sending anyone this way soon.

Compared to Liberia it’s a modern marvel: electricity, paved roads, ATM machines, hot water, fresh squeezed juice! Still the signs of Ghana’s development challenges are equally abundant: the incessant wafts of raw sewage that fill your nostrils thanks to the open trenches along the streets, piles of burning trash thanks to the lack of proper garbage collection, and the shacks that the vast majority of Ghanaians live in. It’s a little disheartening to realize how far ahead of Liberia they are, yet most people live in pretty brutal poverty.

Jacob and I wandered around our first day and stumbled upon the single most disgusting beach I’ve ever encountered in my life. Little trash mounds reminiscent of the seaweed ones we have back home were everywhere; exposed pipes pumping raw sewage into the already brown waters; plastic bags blowing in the wind; men peeing in plain air. The Lonely Planet put it well when they said that Accra had turned its back on its coastline.


By far the best things about Accra are And1, Dotty, Cyrus, and Mohammed. Four “brothers” who moved from the north, in their mid to late-twenties, getting by selling drums, t-shirts, necklaces, and masks to tourists. We didn’t realize we were walking up on the art center tourist trap when And1 intersected us and asked to show up his shop. We wound up hanging out for hours, getting a drum lesson, and learning about the antique artwork their uncle sells.


We’ve gone out with them three times since. They call me their sister and I promise to send everyone their way for goods from Ghana. So go there!! Off to meet up with them now :).

Blog Postings I Wish I’d Written

Turns out at least half the people I’ve met in Liberia are also blogging about their experience. Some of them are genius bouts of hilarity (Sean I’m looking at you), others are things I’d thought to blog about but never did, others are things I wish I’d thought to post. Many are articulated better than I could have. Sean, Elie, Nate, and Myles' blogs (linked) in particular are awesome, well worth a browse if you are itching for more on Liberia now that my postings have come to an end.

But there are a couple postings from each of them that need to be pointed out to you, all quintessential elements of my Liberian summer experience. Check ‘em out.

• Sean, on the lack of musical variety in Monrovia (this one is so funny it made me cry)
• Elie, on the hand-painted signs that are ubiquitous in Liberia (that I meant to take so many more pictures of)
• Myles, on the abundant abandoned buildings (a much better version of my attempt at this one)
• Nate, on the local liquor he took great delight in feeding the rest of us
  

Myles’ blog also has a bunch of interesting postings on the informal employment sector and the things that most Liberians do to get by. Well worth reading.

I'll be following them to stay on top of what I'm missing!

Everyday People

Obviously there were others who filled my days: Minister Davis and his staff, our drivers and guards, and of course, the expats who live here who quickly became my friends. Here are their pics as well. Missing them.

Ben calls Andrew "Overenthusiastic Andrew" because he

has an absurd amount of energy and gets excited about

everything. He more than anyone took advantage of every

moment he had in Liberia. Our text message volume says it

all, he was without doubt one of my closest friends this summer.

Dan pretty much made my summer. He's the one who

gave me incredible amounts of responsibility and autonomy

and did everything he could to help me successful. Plus

he's just a really great guy. I owe him big time.

I don't know where to begin with my love for Elie
and Nate. They rock beyond words and I didn't get
to spend nearly enough time with them. Oh and
she's a badass cook! Miss them miss them!!

Roland. He's the rockstar of Minister Davis' team. After
asking for his counsel on how to handle it, he basically
spent the entire summer asking me how Alfred, my
Liberian suitor was doing. He took great joy in giving
me a hard time about that one.

The one and only Minister Davis, or Natty B as
any Liberian would call him. I'm so lucky to have
worked for someone who was so hands off and
supportive of my work.

There were about five guards who took turns sitting outside

our house on a 24h basis, all in their early twenties and most

studying at the University. Achie was super friendly and sweet,

and I'd always feed him since he'd usually eat before coming

to work at 6am and not again until the evening.

I didn't hang out with Myles until the very end of
the summer but.. he's my people. Anyone knows
the surest way to win me over is through my ears.
Behold his pretty amazing $200/mo apartment.

Before I met Ben, Dan aid to me, "it's going to be really

interesting to see you two together. You're both really

smart and you both talk really fast." Needless to say we

totally hit it off. I love this kid's brain. And he's tons of fun.

Urias! He was the youngest member of Minister
Davis' team, a recent grad from the University of
Liberia. Loved getting into discussions about religion,
boys, Liberia, and just about anything else with him!

Lamin was the first and last person I saw in Liberia,

since he picked me up and dropped me off from the

airport. We had a handful of drivers we'd call to get

around and Lamin was realistic about how long

it would be until he arrived and worked late, so he

was always the first person I'd call.

Real World Monrovia, ad hoc edition

Well, our Real World Monrovia photo shoot never happened, unfortunately, but I have some pretty representative shots of all of the housemates. Here are the peeps that lived under the same leaky roof with me this summer.

Thorodd, the too cool Norwegian from Georgetown
Photo credit: Thorodd

Maggie, the super laid back one and also the only white girl in all
of Liberia who speaks Fula, one of the tribal languages
(thanks to 2 years in the peace corps in the Gambia).

Jess, the one responsible for Fatty and Flaco, and
always integrating better with the locals than the
rest of us. She's studying labor at Cornell.

Jacob, my classmate from Harvard. Our original idea for the shot
was him listening to his iphone reading a book, because that's
what he did in the car most mornings. Close enough.

Javi, also from Georgetown, doing what he did all summer long.

Me doing what I didn't do nearly enough of all summer.
Photo credit: Javi

It's going to be strange living alone again. I really really miss everyone already.

Leaving Liberia

My final week in Liberia was an utter whirlwind. My strategy was to pack every day with meetings and write up my reports once I returned to the States. Which meant every day I spent whizzing around town, fighting traffic, cramming in email time when I could, and trying in the cracks to hand off every part of my only begun work that I could. Plus, there were the people I wanted to make sure I saw one more time before I left, so I squeezed them into the lunches and dinners I'd have to eat anyway.

Suddenly it was Friday, and I found myself faced with intense emotions I didn't have my head above water enough to see coming.

While I'm sure many of my classmates are going through similar feelings, I can't help but wonder if the uniqueness of the Liberian internship opportunity, and especially mine, makes it even more intense. Two reasons in particular stand out.

Recall that what I wanted to get out of working for a goverment in a developing country was perspective. Making a significant contribution wasn't something I thought I would do, and there I was liasing with leadership across the ICT space. I had a strong belief in a policy need that I was doing my best to convince senior goverment leadership to get behind it. People were starting to come to me for my thoughts on things, asking if I knew more about initiatives, and I was the one connecting a lot of the dots. I can't imagine there are a lot of internships where you are able to interact with such high level officials while given real responsibilty and significant autonomy. It really seems pretty insane if you ask me. But man was it exhilarating.

Secondly, Liberia's unique because there are so many interns who go, and because the expat community is so small. This meant that we were able to immediately form a social network that I think interns rarely are able to do. Beyond that though, there are just some really great people in Monrovia, who I instantly connected with. You just know your people when you meet them.

So there I was finally working in development, what I'm truly passionate about; working autonomously on important initiatives, plugged in with senior government officials, and a surprising level of confidence in my understanding of the environment. And I had my people.

I truly cannot imagine a more incredible experience for a summer internship, both personally and professionally. No way.

Liberian Summer Soundtrack

My brief posting on that one Nigerian hip hop song I've heard a zillion times this summer didn't do the musical redundancy of the last nine weeks one iota of justice.

It's not just that I hear the same handful of songs EVERYWHERE I go. Oh no. It's not even just that I often hear the same song three, four, five songs in one night at a restaurant or bar. I even sometimes here some of these gems played ON REPEAT.

The real evil ones are the catchiest. You might hate me for this, but here are the five in particular that pretty much defined my aural experience this summer (along, of course, the hum of the generator).

"Out of This Club" The Pussycat Dolls


"Fall in Love" D'Banj


"I'm Sorry" Akon (they apparently LOVE Akon here)


"Emergency Room" Rihanna (featuring Akon, shocker)


The fifth would be a Congolese jam that Lamin always played in his car, unfortunately that one's not going to be found on YouTube... you better believe we jammed to it on my way to the airport!

Meeting the President

Well, what can I say. That was pretty damn exciting.

A few weeks ago I received an invitation to the President's house for a reception. Two days later, the offer was rescinded, along with a promise to reschedule. We'd been invited and then uninvited to a reception for the Scott Fellows. I don't blame them - if I was in Liberia for a year working, I wouldn't the President to confuse me with some intern.

But a reception for the interns was never scheduled. So Jacob, taking the initiative, asked Minister Davis to schedule a meeting. Two days ago I was asked to prepare a packet for President Sirleaf. My bio, and my output for the summer. Was she really going to read it?

This afternoon we got our fifteen minutes of fame, in the President's office. Minister Davis took Jacob and I up and we quickly introduced ourselves and told her the work we'd been doing over the summer. She asked about how it would be implemented. She asked what we were doing next. She thanked us for our work and told us to consider Liberia our second home.

After the formal conversation and before the pictures were taken, I had a chance to converse with her a bit more casually. Pretty amazing, that's all I can really say.

An apt coda to the summer and a reminder of what an unbelievable and tremendous opportunity working for the government at such a high level has been. Seriously.

Of course...

Just when things are about to come to an end, things start getting good. Or maybe it's just that after reaching a point of total intolerance for it all, I've boomeranged to not letting anything phase me.

I'm starting to feel comfortable here. Little bits of Liberian English are starting to roll off my tongue with ease. I don't worry walking down the street. I think there's just a confidence that underlies all of my interactions with the average Liberian that wasn't there before.

The biggest thing is probably that I'm really hitting my stride on the professional front. After meeting with the who's who in the ICT space in the country (as well as many working in ICT4D in general), I've got a pretty awesome network. But then again, this is just the beginning of an exciting new career. And it's not even the end of my work here actually. Minister Davis' isn't letting go of me that easily.

And of course, there are all the awesome people I've met who are here not just for the summer., but will remain long after I've gone. More than anything, it's them that I'll miss. As I spend my remaining hours with that short list of people who I may never see again, I almost, just almost, wish I had a little bit more time to be here in Liberia with them.

Dan, Ben, Andrew, John, Elie, Nate, Heidi, Myles, I'll miss you guys! (The rest of the people who made this summer so amazing are all headed back home so somehow they don't count ;).

Over It

Maybe it’s that the generator’s broken, again, so it’s pitch black at home tonight.  Maybe it's that this morning I almost slipped and fell because of the huge puddle in the middle of our hallway from the leak in the roof that never got fixed.  

Maybe it’s the additional patience I’ve needed over the past week to deal with the combination of slower than usual Internet (thanks to the cable down West Africa getting damaged) and worse than usual traffic (thanks to construction on the main road in town).  Maybe it’s the incompetence I’ve faced in even the most unlikely places lately.  

Maybe it's that two of our friends were robbed last week.  While they slept at night someone broke into their apartment and took the computers and phones that were sitting at their bedsides. 

Maybe it’s that now that my departure is nearing, so many Liberians around me are asking, “so what are you going to leave for me when you go?”  I dragged myself to a party for one of our regular driver’s babies today.  I didn’t want to go in the least, but Macintosh is so sweet and he’s been telling us about his new baby Ruth all summer.  They thanked us for coming and then asked us to buy them a $150 bed for the baby.  I felt used.

Maybe it’s because in every picture I see of myself it seems I’ve aged years in the weeks I’ve been here.  I’m sure the fact I haven’t practiced yoga in a week now doesn’t help.

Maybe it’s that the litany of inconveniences I’d had to face on a daily basis have just worn me to the bone, and with the end so close I can see it I’m having a hard time mustering the energy to deal.  

I don't mean to bitch.  I’m just over it.