Handshakes and Applauding

First, let me preface this entry with the disclaimer that anyone living in (or who has ever lived in) West Africa will find this a bit ridiculous.

Second, I feel perfectly comfortable saying that, unequivocally, the Liberian adaptation of the everyday handshake and a round of applause ... just plain rocks, and it needs to be shared with those who haven't yet experienced it.

The Liberian handshake is one of the cultural goodies you find right as you step off the plane. It's a full arm process that involves the following:

1 - grasp the hand of your counterpart:









2 - slide into a thumb-to-thumb grip:









3 - pull back to clutch the finger tips of your counterpart:









4 - release with a loud snap of the middle fingers:









Note that the handshake can be abbreviated by jumping straight from the quick hand shake to the snap.

Perhaps the best thing about this handshake, and the fact that I found most surprising, is that it is uniformly universal, throughout much of West Africa, at least. Just as you would snap fingers with your neighbor, or doorman, or local "ground pea" (peanuts are called ground peas) vendor... you would also snap fingers with a County Superintendent (the equivalent of a state governor), a Senator, Minister, or... well, I'm unsure as to whether you would initiate a snap after a handshake with President Ellen.... But you would definitely be exceedingly flattered if she did so with you.

The Liberian applause is equally awesome - and it, too, is a bit of a production (notice the pattern of dramatic performances).

As I've seen it observed, among the crowd there is typically an applause leader. This person takes it upon him or herself to call everyone's attention. Then, slowly, and quietly at first, he or she rubs his/her hands together. As the energy builds the leader calls out the person for whom the commendation is intended, thanks them for whatever it is they did, counts out a series of claps which the crowd follows - then "pushes" or "tosses" the good energy to the person receiving the applause. This you have to see to fully appreciate. The below clip is from a recent employee appreciation outing to Barnes Beach (just southeast of Monrovia).

Bochalo

“Hey missy, what’s your name?” This, from a boy of maybe seven years old. I was walking past the American Embassy, returning from a lunch meeting at the Crystal Ocean View Hotel. He was carrying a very big jug of water.

“My name’s Amanda, what’s yours?”

“Me? My name’s Bochalo [at least that’s what I heard, I could be wrong]. I like your form, missy.”

“You’re too little to like my form.” How else do you respond to a seven year old?

“I could be good for you missy.”

No comment.

WAWA

I’ve developed this very awkward way of lighting my oven. I have a gas stove, but the lighter doesn’t work and the knob to control the amount of gas that comes from beneath the burner is broken… so inevitably the gas comes out full blast. My technique, therefore, has been to have a match ready, turn the gas on, duck beneath the level of the stove and toss the match towards the gas... hoping not to singe my hair/eyebrows/self.

One of my flat mates, an UNMIL military observer, laughed to no end as he witnessed me doing this.

After showing me a slightly safer stove top strategy (of placing the match on the burner, then starting the gas), he also taught me my new favorite phrase:

WAWA. WAWA stands for West Africa Wins Again - not the football frat, for all us Hopkins alums, or the chain convenience store for all those in living in the mid-Atlantic.

WAWA should be used to express the frustration that comes with the common inconveniences of life in Liberia (and neighboring states).

“For example,” he explained, “If, after the end of a long day working outside in the heat and humidity, you come home for a shower and the water’s been turned off, that’s a WAWA situation.”

Or, you come home all excited that you found fresh apples at the grocery store… but then you find a worm in three out of four of them.

Or, you pay 10 USD for a sandwich at a hotel restaurant (which would cost 3 USD anywhere else) just so you can use their Internet… but the moment you turn the computer on the power goes out.

Ah, WAWA.

Malaria, and the curative powers of cornflakes

Yup, cornflakes. Well, maybe it was less the cornflakes and more the 1250 mg of Larium and 30+ hours of sleep that actually did the trick. Regardless, only four days after testing positive for Malaria (of which strain, I'm unsure) I felt almost 100%.

Leading up to Wednesday of that week, my work schedule had been pretty busy and sleep schedule a bit erratic. When I lay down Wednesday night at about 8, I assumed I just needed a few extra hours of rest. But, after a sleepless night of a 101 temp, chills, body aches, and a very upset stomach, I had an inkling I'd received an unfortunate mosquito bite.

At roughly 8 am the next morning, I dragged myself to the car and our driver "carried" (the operative term in Liberia for "drive" or "bring" is "carry," and variations thereof) me directly to a local hospital. There I met an American doctor I knew working at the facility who helped me hobble towards the lab in the in the maternity ward to get a malaria smear. I remember taking a seat in the lab next to smiling, older lady who eyed me quite curiously.

I vaguely remember hearing the positive results and wobbling my way to the car, and eventually the spare bedroom in a friends apartment just a couple blocks away. I slept from about 9:30 Thursday morning to maybe 3:30 Friday afternoon, at which time I made my way back to my apartment and slept some more.

All in all, it was draining, but short-lived – definitely not the drawn out discomfort of getting shingles in Bosnia. However, I can’t imagine malaria being a routine concern. I have a friend here who said he gets “the malaria” about three times a year. It comes in different strains (and varying degrees of intensity) and can cause long-term liver damage if contracted multiple times. Not good news.

While the side effects of the prophylaxis are a bit intimidating, I think from here on out I’ll risk it with Malarone…

Riverside

On Saturday morning I bought a pair of Fila basketball shoes along Riverside market for 22 USD. The vendor wanted 26, but a friend of mine persuasively bargained him down. Just northwest of downtown, Riverside market is a hubbub of activity on Saturdays. It had been the largest market in Monrovia before the war, and has just recently been outpaced by Red Light.

Local commerce in Liberia is somewhat of a wonder to me - mostly because the national infrastructure is prohibitively underdeveloped. Where there are roads, it is conceivable that goods and services will follow. The goods may be well worn - at least several points removed from their point of origin and, mostly likely, destination - but if there’s a near by road then patience will eventually yield profit.

At Monrovia's Riverside, there is an endless stream of pedestrian traffic and international contractors to provide a market. What’s puzzling, however, is where the goods came from in the first place. There’s an endless variety of American throw backs: from squeaky clean Air Jordans, college football jerseys, Tupperware, dishware, Singer sewing machines, etc. Equally represented are Middle Eastern and German goods – though these nationalities have a stronger hold in grocery and convenience stores than street side markets. The goods themselves are seemingly new. Granted the dress shoes may need a polish, but on whole, merchandise appears to be stream into the country on a regular basis.

To my knowledge, however, the road to Riverside isn’t any less mogul-ish than those in the rest of the city. There are two traversable roads that run the length of Liberia, and they are often impassable during rainy season, so commercial vehicles are rare. Roberts Field International (the airport) is the end (or beginning) of every flight that passes through Monrovia – and I can’t speak to ever having heard of a rail system. Further still (and largely by consequence), Liberia completely lacks manufacturing capability. Though resource rich, Liberia’s raw materials are shipped abroad for processing and manufacturing. Not even Firestone (as I understand it) has a manufacturing plant in country. What’s left, then, as the commercial portico to the country, but its seaports? My guess (which I’ve had confirmed by just two acquaintances) is that certain “rights of passage” are understood between merchants and those working the docks. A small offering of incoming merchandise may ensure the safety of the rest of the shipment.

The coast is hub for various spokes of commercial exchange - legal and extralegal. In the earliest morning hours, young men push wheelbarrows of sand from the shore towards inland neighborhoods, where they reinforce structures and walls with sand bags. Smaller boys carry buckets of snails to the markets, and fisherman frequent the waters from dawn to dusk. So, I suppose, it’s reasonable to image goods of all kinds, from all countries, making their way to Riverside.

The shoes fit, that’s for sure – but I’m withholding further judgment until I see how well they wear.

Work in Transit

I’m sitting in the Nissan pick up on Benson Street just East of downtown Monrovia; we’ve been motionless for 30 minutes. Our driver, visibly flustered, is trying to coordinate with the office manager to see how to get the rest of the staff to a three o’clock meeting on the other side of town.

Resigned to passing the afternoon in the car, I decided to pop my laptop and get some work done. As I’m opening Excel files full of distribution plans, our driver exhales, disgusted, and gets out of the car to go encourage a taxi driver to move through the intersection.

So, I’ve found myself sitting in a Nissan pick up, typing on my MacBook… motionless in the middle of a street that is overrun with vendors and students on their way home from school. An atypical, though not unprecedented, day at the office.

Banking on Broad Street

There are two, relatively convenient ways to withdraw US Dollars from a bank in Monrovia: writing a check to yourself or wiring money to a local account from a bank in the US. This afternoon, I chose the former of the two and found myself carrying an uncomfortable amount of cash as I exited International Bank onto Broad Street.

One of four commercial banks in Liberia, IB was located within an UNMIL held area during the war, and has been active throughout the past 15 years of turmoil. This was also the case with the other four, commercial banks in Liberia, as well as the state owned Central Bank. International Bank sits across from the Executive Compound and Palm Hotel (and Chinese Restaurant). It is an American owned bank that acts as an intermediary for those wiring funds from abroad and cashes personal checks. At the teller wind charged me $18 for an “import tax,” which he explained was necessary because International Bank must import American Dollars. Though I hesitated at this explanation, the local accountant I was with assured me this was commonplace – and, more importantly, a lesser fee than I would have paid to wire the money.

My experience, on whole, was perfectly smooth. For most locals, however, this is generally not the case. In a recent conversation I learned that applying for a loan is a prohibitively complicated process. Take for instance, the process of property appraisal at the Liberian Bank of Development and Investment.

The Liberian Bank of Development and Investment (LBDI) is the largest Liberian run bank in the country. According to one Liberian friend, to have his property valued as leverage to take out a loan, the speculation process would take (“easily”) over a year. Furthermore, the bank would take the property at face value – meaning they would value an acre at the current price of an acre, rather than granting the owner a loan that would enable them to build on that acre. I am, admittedly, unfamiliar with the speculation process, and therefore unsure as to how common of a practice this is. I’ll do a bit of research on the topic, but I’m more than interested to hear any comments on this subject from anyone reading. Regardless, my friend attested to the fact that the process would be far easier and more lucrative for a Lebanese businessman or other international.

It will be interesting to follow LBDI transactions over the course of the year – or perhaps open an account to get a more intimate perspective.