Gblarlay

Gblarlay is about as remote as you can get, except for the fact that it can be reached by car (well, half of the time). Five hour drive into the heart of the bush, over nature's biggest speed bumps and sketchy bridges, while the sun set in glorious oranges through the trees. Equip was opening a new clinic there. It would serve a population of over 25,000 people from the neighbouring villages, including Ivorians from across the border. There are about 300 people per practicing doctor in America. In Liberia there are about 100 doctors total, and half of those are administrative positions.

I arrived the night before the ceremony. As we rolled into town at dusk kids started running after our truck, shouting out cries of welcome. When we parked I shook a million people's hands and was shown to a house where there was a spare room. I wandered back to a common gathering place, where the women were already busy preparing a feast, chopping and mashing and stirring mysterious entrees in big metal kettles over coal fires. I sat down on a bench and started talking to an older lady sitting beside me.

I heard singing off in the distance and soon a row of flashlights appeared on the horizon. "Who is that, Ma?" I asked the older lady. "Oh, they are Ivorians. They have come to celebrate." And celebrate they did. They rolled into town to the pulse of a djembe, dancing and singing, dressed in the most colorful fabric you've ever seen. A circle was formed and soon there was a whirlwind of swinging hips and shuffling feet, accompanied by an infectious chorus. I was completely mezmerized.

When I stumbled into bed I could still here the drums off in the distance. Apparently it went on all night. I was woken up at some ridiculously early hour "Come quick. Bring the camera. They are killing the cow!" It was still dark out. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my camera, and headed to the slaughter. I had arrived too late for the big show, but I watched them cut off the hide and took some photos that have a lot of appeal if your really into bovine anatomy. I went back to bed for a few more precious hours of sleep.

When I got up again, the cow was already well chopped up and stewing. There was nothing of it left. Nothing got wasted. Everything was in the soup pot. I tried not to dwell on it for long. Besides the beef, all the women were cooking up potato greens, okra, palm butter, and of course rice. One lady was making some donuts. There are very few things that can compare to a fresh Liberian donut.

The ceremony was great. Lots of cultural dances, lots of uninteresting speeches, and then everyone got fed. Good times in the bush.

Joy

This is what happens when you point a camcorder at a group of kids in Liberia and flip around the screen so that they can see themselves.

I Am Contactable

Besides the wonderful world of e-mails, there are some other alternatives to getting a hold of me.

Phone: If from Canada, you dial 011+231+06-923408. It might cost a premium, but if you call me quick, I'll call you back, cause it only costs me 20cents a minute. Don't forget about the 8hour time difference.

Skype: Its like a phone, but its free and over the internet. Just search for christophsanz or Christoph Sanz, or my e-mail address. The downside is that I don't always have access to the interweb.

Mail: It takes about two weeks for it to get here. Just don't send anything valuable. The postal service is pretty sketchy. Here's my mailing address.

Equip Liberia
c/o Christoph Sanz
PO Box 2499
14th Street, Coleman Ave
Monrovia,Liberia, West Africa

Make sure you include my cell number (06-923408) somewhere on the letter/package, just not under the address, so that it doesn't get mixed up for a zip code.

Lights Camera Chaos!

If you ever want to experience a real gong show try shooting an amateur film in Africa.

I’ve had the privilege of getting acquainted with a drama group called “The Revelation Is Christ (or T-RIC for short). I had sat in on one of their practices and wrote a little piece on them for the Equip newsletter. Their big focus is to highlight serious abuses and crimes that are happening in their community, and there are more then enough of those to go around in Liberia. Topics of their skits range from domestic violence to ritualistic killings. Not exactly your average acting group. They’ve decided that they have a couple stories that they want to make into a movie and since I’m the “queepoo” (white-man) with a camcorder, I get to film all the action.

My cell phone alarm clock woke me up bright and way to early at 7. I was out the door and at the designated gathering place in half an hour. It took till about 9 before everybody was actually gathered so I killed the time by playing with some of the kids in the neighborhood.

Speaking of kids, I MUST go off on a tangent here because as nice as Liberia is, it’s the kids that I have fallen in love with. There are a lot of kids here. I mean, a lot! And you know that whole “don’t talk to strangers” thing that parents always told you when you were young? It doesn’t apply here. They practically throw themselves at you; except for the real little ones that take one look at you and start crying. Over 50% of the population of Liberia is under 18. Think about the implications of that for a minute.

I digress.

Once everybody was finally assembled, we were still a long way off from actually filming anything yet. We were going to shoot a scene that involved using a number of fake AK-47s. So we had to whisk off to the local police station to let them know, lest anybody freak out. One cop, seeing an easy way out of a tedious day, instantly declared that he needed to come along to supervise, so he came back with us.

It was then declared that we really needed a car, so somebody rushed back into town to rent one for the day. So by about 11 about ten of us piled into a tiny Toyota Corolla and headed off to our first scene, the rest following on motorbikes.

Once we actually got the camera rolling, things were still kind of crazy. First off, we had no tripod. I would try and keep my arm still or find something to prop the camera, but everything is still a bit shaky. But hey, apparently that is in style these days. Secondly, the actors were clearly just as new to this movie business as I was. They would constantly deliver lines when they were miles away from the camera frame. Since there wasn’t really a script to go by, actor would completely change their lines and sometimes even the plot during different takes. Thirdly, Liberians are curious by nature. So whenever we were filming a crowd would gather to watch the action. They were, of course, always in the way and always making a lot of noise. Oh well.

It was altogether a thrilling experience and its not over. We’re filming again today.

Here's a completely unrelated but absolutely adorable photo of a puppy:

Obama

With the inauguration of Barack Obama just days away, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you just how much the people of Liberia are in love with the new president-to-be. There are posters of him everywhere. There are businesses named after him. I can garuntee you that in 5 years there will be a whole group of 5 year old boys with the name Barack Obama. I read an article in the local newspaper a few days ago that announced that now, thanks to Barack Obama, it would be super easy for Liberians to immigrate to America!

Here are some examples of Obama love...


I pass the Obama Filling Station on my way to the office. What you can't see so well in this picture is the words "YES WE CAN" boldy printed across the foundation.

So This Is The New Year

I welcomed ’09 dancing with a handful of random people on the most beautiful beach that I had ever seen at a wedding of two strangers that I had never met. It was something else.

On the 29th I headed out with the Waines family and volunteers to Robertsport, just a 3 hour drive Northwest of Monrovia. Robertsport is nestled between the vast Lake Piso and a strip of beach that offers Liberia’s best surf. Despite the ruins of bulidings blown apart by the war, the town is idyllic. We pitched our tents under the shade of two enormous almond trees on a strip of the coastline known as Cassava Beach.

When you stick nine people in a place like Robertsport there is no lack of things to do. Surfing, swimming, hunting crabs and roasting them, eating pineapples, buying fish off the local fishermen and cooking them in the fire, just lying around reading and chewing on sugar cane. None of this, however, compared to the phosphorescents. I’ve seen them before, but this was something else. I dived in the water and my whole body glowed. Every time my arm entered the water it was trailed by hundred little green sparks. When you clapped your hands underwater there was an explosion of light. And when you put on goggles and swam underwater it was just about to much to handle.

Near to where we were camping, a South African guy called Joe and his brother who isn’t really his brother called Robert had built a surf lodge complete with a bar. Dave, the extremely extraverted patriarch of the Waines family, got to talking to Joe and found out that Robert had managed to find himself a beautiful Norwegian girl and that they were going to get married on the beach on the 31st. Dave got us all promptly invited.

It was by far the quickest and oddest and possibly the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended. There were a few friends and family of the couple, but at least half of the guests were people that just happened to be staying in the lodge at the time, and our little army. The bride rode up on an ATV. Since this was a strictly secular ceremony, they had hired the local judge to marry them. She took the whole procedure a whole lot more seriously then anybody involved. When the groom mispronounced one of his vows she made him repeat it three times. Then slamming down her mallet on the table she sealed the deal. She stood there with an immense sense of pride on her face. There was an awkward moment while we all waited for something to happen. “Can me kiss?” asked the groom almost hesitantly. “Certainly,” said the judge, a little taken aback, as if it was an absurd question. They kissed. It was all very amusing.

As the sun set down everyone shifted around the tables set up along the beach and all the candles were lit. The champagne was sweet and the food delightful, the highlight being a giant Barracuda fish. I normally don’t really savor fish, but this was amazing.

It was altogether the most unique and enjoyable New Year’s Eve I’ve witnessed.

(Speaking of unique, this is a monkey-apple fruit. It tastes like...actually you just can't describe it.)