Chapter Two - Change is Constant

OK, well obviously, this isn’t going to be a “daily” diary sort of thing. Origin 1575-85; < Latin diarium daily allowance, journal, equivalent to di(es) day + arium – ary.

But then, let’s catch-up.

Sunday evening, July 28: Turned out, ex-nay on the new Roberts International Airport terminal. It will be at least another three weeks (African standard time?) following last Thursday’s dedication until the shiny new facility will be actually operating.

So, as the Fates directed, I found myself first-in-line at the “Diplomats – VIPs” booth in the usual, lived-in immigration hall. No, I’m probably not a VIP in these parts (or most anywhere else outside my front door), but I always try to be diplomatic ... mostly. I was totally prepared too: directing the officer to p. 21 of passport for my totally hip multiple-entry Liberian visa, good until next year some time. Whoops, didn’t fill out the standard landing card. Hey, no problem, this is the Diplomats line. I told the man my super-exclusive hotel and the name of the nearby crossroads (“Rehab Junction”), a stone’s throw from Mr. President’s compound, and voila’!, landing card waived, I’m in, Mother Liberia.

The rain was boss on the other side of the terminal, full-throated, don’t care if you get in the way rain. It’s 8:30-ish now, dark, dark night, with precious 2-plus year Myia in the back seat, quiet and cuddled in the arms of her nanny by the name of, yes, Precious. “Double prech,” eyes kind of open in the glow of the passing headlights.

Hotel is the RLJ Kendeja, opened with presidential, legislative and supreme court chief justice fanfare ten years back, resort on the beach, when my film-doc man Ian and I were among the inaugural guests. The place – with nice pools, 24-hour food and stand-up security – shows ten years of monsoon wear around the edges, but it’s my good place. I am said to not really be committed to improving conditions in West Africa, only actually drawn back to this distant, loveable, chaotic land by the pepper chicken – Liberian pepper chicken – they serve me here. … and they serve me here at my preferred vantage, at the hexagonal bar, set in the middle of the large-ish hexagonal bar room, with CNN on one TV (sound on vaguely) and B-blood and bullets movies (sound off) on the one opposite.

Monday, July 29: The whole of Monserrado County (greater Monrovia) is shut down tight today save for some food places and the polling stations. It’s a special election today, for one of the county’s two senators, to replace the gentleman who passed an untimely passing while in Ghana in Jan/Feb. I am half-conscious at best today in any event. I recover sufficiently by midday to chew into a client-crisis for several hours.

Then, late-afternoon, Jay announces the New Era on his arrival for our tour of town: the man is driving a four-door white, semi-pickup Toyota Save-the-Children vehicle, complete with four-wheel drive and the standard NGO-issue gigantic antenna bent back from the front bumper. Jay, who welcomed me to his country first time way back when in another Toyota, the decrepit sedan with no tires to speak up. Jay, now country director of a MAJOR NGO player globally, with $60M to spend annually in Liberia and some 160 staff spread from Monrovian headquarters to outposts throughout the country. Dude, where’s my commission?

So, after a brief photo/video op at edge of the Atlantic, we drive in NGO white wonder wagon style all to way to the far-side of Monrovia (Waterside Market) and back in virtually abandoned road conditions. Unheard of, a bit ghostly. We catch-up on life directions and our aims for these next two weeks as we make the circuit. The voting spots are mainly temporary tent canopies, open-sided, in vacant lots with the picture of every eligible voter for that precinct on 20-ish-to-a-page sheets posted on a nearby wall. I figured about 400 voters per

precinct. Votes – on hard copy ballots -- are tallied locally and called in to headquarters because transport is where the fraud happens.

Tuesday, July 30: Somehow, after a deep journey to Elsewhere, I awake to some sort of silent beckoning. Actually, it must have been the ten missed calls via WhatsApp from Jay over the prior 20 minutes. We connect, he’s ready to head to the office in 30 minutes (his compound is across the main road from RLJ), my counteroffer is futile, and so at 8:10 we are headed back to town.

Somehow, in crazy traffic, Jay commands the White Wonder through Congo Town (and at-times yet more crazy rain) in time to arrive at Save Liberia (the lingo man, takes too long to say Save the Children Liberia Chapter, adds up to likely about an hour a year) for his 9:00 phone conference.

Then, 9:00 a.m. conference is to happen later. So, I set up in Jay’s office, big, at the round table, decent internet, while he pulls together his five line managers for morning meet-up. Until we left the space at 2:00-ish, Jay was in constant motion over three floors of staff except when he was at his desk when the body traffic into his office – with assorted business or nonsense – was nearly like the outside relentless rains. This man needs to lock his door or place an impressively armed guard.

Between my email fundraising pitches to the folks back home (“This is not a drill. I’m in Africa, please send money”), it did not take long to observe the Jay is utterly in his element here. Save Liberia Country Director man. Get these people to … WORK! Deal with upline guys, deal with the flaps, deal with … and this is the utterly juicy part … his biggest problem: not spending all the money granted to this chapter on deadline. If you don’t spend it all, then donors wonder, then donors waffle, then donors wander. What a great and supremely ironic problem to have.

Save Liberia also has the systems in place befitting of an international NGO with literally 100 years of experience: systems for everything, on super-fast computer and bandwidth capacity. Once again, here’s a man in Jay for whom these challenges were practically devised.

Midafternoon, we are off to AMEU to meet with whom I figured would be all of our senior staff partners, save for the recently (and lamentedly) removed President, Dr. Isaac. Yet, only our colleague Anthony Kimba is present. No Dr. H and no Dr. K, the senior VPs, whom we learn are both now in the States on vacation, not to return, and unresponsive to my email earlier in the day. OK, people, it’s over to Plan B, a meeting on Thursday with Anthony and Iseclia to map out our concluding event Friday with the Vacation Bridge students.

Later that afternoon, Jay learns that he is to be in Freetown, Sierra Leone for two full days next week – with travel days on either side – for a meeting and regional workshop on a critical aspect of “Save” operations.

It is said that when faced with lemons, one should undertake to create lemonade. Thus, what the hell, I’m going to Sierra Leone too, to introduce the African Literacy Project to a whole new country! It’s been ten years since I’ve been in Freetown, so what the heck, let’s roll!

Wednesday, July 31: Hey, what good is one total government and commercial shutdown in a week without another one? So, today the whole of Liberia is shut in anticipation of opposition groups’ announced day of protest against the current administration. President Weah ran on a “pro poor” platform last year and many of the intended beneficiaries as well as his political rivals have been prone to wonder whether there’s a time table on this promised new beginning.

So, for most of a third day running, I am hanging at Save Liberia, today with only Jay and one other staff person, a driver, present.

When I endeavor to cross the road to get a long shot of the building, Jay places a veto. While there has been no actual violence or even a gathering in evidence around the place, Jay has concern about white man with camera. I respect the position as has been usual when I first arrived, in 2006, to nation occupied by 15,000 U.N. peacekeepers, holding an uneasy equilibrium over a generation of rival killer gangs/armies.

Jay is monitoring the security reports all the day, apparently a network available to all NGOs. No NGO vehicles should be driving in the area of Capitol Hill. Now the marchers are moving their gathering to the other side of us, and in our route home, in Congo Town outside the Liberty Party headquarters.

Yes, the light traffic out of town is suddenly heavy (Jay's second story office looks out on Tubman Boulevard). So we saddle up and head out in the White Wonder, toward what is now the reported gathering site, not of angry protest, but of a celebration for having exercised their freedoms of assembly, speech and petition up on the Hill.

Traffic is super-jammed as we approach. Then over to the left, on the side of the road for the Liberty Party headquarters, arrive two pick-ups’ worth of heavy armored riot police. We pass them, the gap

in-between and then into and through the throng of dancing, bouncing “protesters.” Our videos are rolling. Damn! Eat your heart out CNN!

Tomorrow, we get “serious,” 6:15 a.m. departure for town, Save Liberia operations to be balanced with our own African Literacy Campaign meet-ups with AMEU and whatever meet-and-greets can be engineered.

Again, onward.

Tim Bowles
Wednesday, July 31, 2019