Independence Day in Gbranga

Every year Liberia chooses a different county to hold its official Independence Day celebrations. This year’s it was in Bong County, at the capitol Gbranga (pronounced “Banga”). I wasn’t sure we’d make it, since it seemed like it would involve quite a bit of planning and I couldn’t imagine it would be easy to find lodging.

But then a few days before, Ousman arrived in the office and informed us that we’d in fact be going, just for the day on Monday. Then he handed us invitations from the President, and a laminated badge with our names on it. We weren’t just going; we were official.

We left at 6:30am for the three plus hour drive. We had a good car (read: good shocks) so despite the less than perfect road we arrived in just two hours, emergency lights blazing the entire way (this is what government vehicles do). We were early, but there was already a lot of activity. There were groups of people everywhere, some in dresses they had specially made for the day, complete with Independence Day fabric that had President Sirleaf’s face on them. There were groups of dancers and drummers in traditional dress playing and performing to pass the time.

Through considerable chaos despite strictly defined protocols, we made our way into the hall where the official program would take place. The white plastic seats were arranged so close together that you had to move them to get in and strategically time your standing and sitting with the people in front and behind you. It was about 10:30am. I looked at the official program and realized it was a full four hours long. I hadn’t eaten yet. This would be a long four hours.

The combination of the poor quality of the audio equipment, general difficulty of understanding Liberian English, and constant murmurs from the crowd meant I was unable to follow almost the entire program. There were plenty of things I wish I could have understood, first and foremost, the National Orator’s speech. He was a tribal chief with nine wives and 45 children with some pretty outrageous things to say. I only caught his thanks to the President for making things so much better for him, specifically the fact that he now had a vehicle. He went on to claim that the tribal chiefs should handle land reform and collectively elect the President. I watched President Sirleaf laugh at the suggestion.

Then around 2:30, President Sirleaf took the stage. She was radiant in a bright red dress and headdress with a blue sash. Suddenly there was silence, the audio seemed to instantly improve, and I, along with the rest of the room, sat rapt as she delivered her speech. I heard every word loud and clear.

What made her speech important was that it was the first time she had publically addressed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s controversial report. After enumerating the many accomplishments of the first three years of her administration, she began to speak to it. Without saying much because she couldn’t, she made one message clear: she trusts the Liberian people will judge the report’s conclusions fairly, and reminded everyone listening (which was pretty much the entire country) that Liberians made their judgment about her when they elected her president in 2005.

That one brought the crowd to its feet. What amazed me though was watching the electricity rip through the room when she took the stage; listening to the women next to me murmur, “mmm hmmm,” “that’s right,” “amen sister,” throughout Sirleaf’s speech; feeling the connection this President has with the leaders of her country. It was inspiring.

Whatever hope I walked out of the auditorium with was instantly tempered by the small crowd I passed by on the side of the road. They held placards pleading with the President to improve health, education, and women’s rights.

And that’s Liberia for you. Just when you start to get excited about the progress that’s being made, the reality of this country’s challenges slap you in the face.