I head out just before 5:00pm, just late enough that the evening has taken the edge off the African heat, but still giving me lots of time before sundown (6:30-7:00). From the compound I cross a swamp/farm and reach my dirt path that will lead to the main road.

On my way I pass through the Methodist Mission. Now I can’t tell you about Ganta without telling you about George Harley, the Methodist missionary. He showed up here carried in a hammock in 1923, back when roads were a foreign word here. In fact he was the first person to introduce the wheel to the local Mano tribesmen! After the wheel, he taught them how to fire bricks, how to plank logs, and how to build strong houses. He opened a hospital, a school, built a road, had a car (dismantled into pieces) carried up from Monrovia, built an airstrip, learned how to fly, built an airplane, and flew himself in from the coast. All in all the quintessential jack-of-all-trades. Ganta is his legacy, because if it weren’t for him, it would still be a gathering of mud huts in the middle of the jungle. It is now the second largest city in the country. During my walk I pass his last work here before he left back for America. A beautiful stone church with stain-glass windows. Because of where it is (a country where not a single wall is straight) it is the

Past the church is the main road into town. I walk along it, dodging dust clouds spewed from motorcycle tires that whip by. I wave at some kids at the side of the road (yelling “queiplu! Quieplu!”). On the way I stop at one of the many small stands selling sweets. I buy some peanut brittle.


I make a beeline for the market, ignoring yells of “WHITE MAN!” from every second guy’s lips. The market is a cramped group of stalls with low coverings, forcing me to duck my head. Shopping here is a bit of an art. It is unwise to ignore to ignore people, so you usually end up talking to just about everyone. “How the day?” “The day is fine.” “How the business?” “The business good, thank God.” Something like that. It is also unwise to flat out say “no” to what they are offering you. I find myself using words like “later” and “next time” a lot. They all reassured me that there was no pineapple today but there would be tomorrow.


My next destination is Ganta’s best kept secret. Here it is:


The walk home is uneventful. I stop near the church to watch a football (soccer) match. Never are Liberians more energetic and argumentative. At one point the ball goes wide, hits a palm tree, bounces off my foot, and back into play. The referee just pretends nothing happened.
Here is the last view of my walk, just outside the compound, looking back over the trees that I have snaked my way through. Below me is a bitter ball farm. I still haven’t found out what bitter ball is.


2 comments:
Thanks for the tour, Christoph. I thoroughly enjoyed it!
Me too! Great job Christoph!
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