For True?

"Is it for true?" This is the Liberian version of "for real?" and I like it a lot better. This morning we had a real "for true" moment.

Around 2:00am in the morning the cellphones across Liberia, all the way from the sprawling capital of Monrovia to the most remote reaches of cell coverage, started buzzing and ringing. People rolled and stumbled out of bed and groped around for the object that had cut the dead silence of the African night. On the other line were worried friends, concerned employees, and pleading relatives. The rumor was passed on; the warning given. All around the country people dropped the cellphones, grabbed their pails, and ran for the nearest well.

What secret whispered in the dark would galvanize a whole country into action in the dead of night? It was simply this: After 6:00am (some reports said 5:00) all the drinking sources in all of the Republic of Liberia would be simultaneously poisoned, and anyone who would drink from them in the next three days would die. Most people spared only a few minutes to pass on the warning to their most loved ones, before rushing out of the door with as many pails as they could carry.

This wasn't just limited to fussy old women in superstitious villages buried in the bush. These were people with high school educations and office jobs; people who honestly knew better.

Dave went out to the yard to witness the commotion of the neighbourhood running around. He posed a question to our security guard, John. "You think the people are smart or stupid to believe this?"
"They stupid-o," he replied, knowing the right answer.
"But you got enough water yourself, right?" Dave asked sincerely.
"Oh, ya. We drew plenty, plenty!" John quipped.

This might be a ridiculous and amusing example of the power of superstition and beliefs in Liberia, but often it can be deadly. People won't sleep under life-saving mosquito nets because they believe that at night their spirit turns into a bird and will be trapped by the net. When a mother watches her child fade away from any number of diseases, she doesn't go seek help at the clinic, but blames it on the fact that someone must be practicing witchcraft against that child. People with leprosy, albinism (which is surprisingly common), or deformities are cast out from society by their obvious signs of devilry.

The more one is surrounded by this startlingly perplexing mindset, the more you realize just how devastating it is. It seems to me that the main reason why Liberia is in such a place of suffering is because of these lies that undercut all common sense and rationality.

Giving someone an education or good health care is very possible, but to change an entire country's worldview is more then a struggle, if not impossible.

Worship

The other day a question that is usually buried somewhere deep in my subconscious decided to pay the conscious part of my mind a visit. "Why am I in Africa?" That opened a floodgate of queries that were soon buzzing around my mind, each one broader and harder to answer. "Why am I anywhere?" "Why am I?" "Why?" You get the point.

What often happens when I am ambushed by a flurry of deep and probing questions, is that I try to think about it really, really hard. What always happens when I try to think about something really, really hard is that a random song will pop up into my head and conveniently block out all nagging questions about my existence and meaning. This time, however, the song served a purpose.

"Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down. Here I am to say that your my God" I had just sung it that Sunday, comforted by the familiar words and melody in a foreign country. But I hadn't really thought about it. Now I did. And the more I thought about it the more I realized that the statement "here I am to worship" is not just for a single moment. We can say that about every waking moment of our lives.

I was musing about all this while walking towards the endless Atlantic for a swim. (By the way, the endless Atlantic is a fine, fine place for musing.) Two of my friends were already in the water, abandoning themselves to the waves, letting God's nature pound into them and tumble them around. I felt God say, "That is worship." We can do the simplest and most mundane tasks in a Spirit of worship, and they are transformed into something that God takes joy in. What more can we ask for?

We don't need to be in a church, we don't need to feel the right 'emotions', to be worshiping God. When I made a batch of gingersnaps (thanks for the recipe Holly) that everyone could enjoy, that was an act of worship. When our hearts stops in awe of a sunset that can be an act of worship. When we hug someone that can be an act of worship. When we do something we don't even enjoy doing, but do it with a rejoincing heart, that is worship. We were created to glorify God.

Now here is the best part of it. "Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto me." I love Matthew 25:40, because as far as I understand it, when I am hugging someone in love, I AM HUGGING GOD!!!

That's why I am here in Africa. I'm here to worship God in everything I do. That's why I am anywhere. That's why I am.

Having satisfied my nagging subconcious I started belting out "Hear I Am To Worship" and ran into the endless Atlantic.

And I Thought The Pine Beetle Was Bad...

I think you should all check out this link of an article from National Geographic. It is a really big issue, especially in the rural areas where something like this can be so devastating. I haven't actually gone up to see it yet, but I hope I'll get a chance.

Nightmarish Caterpillar Swarm Defies Control In Liberia

Thoughts

• 7 of the 10 deadliest snake species are native to Liberia.
• I don’t care if you call me a sissy; big spiders in showers freak me out.
• Liberia is a perfect example of globalization. Thanks to the latest economic meltdown the price of petroleum has fallen. Since the price of natural rubber (a huge income source here) is directly tied to petroleum prices, people whom live off less then a dollar a day are suffering. So decisions made in boardrooms on Wall Street affect the rubber farm worker who can’t read or write and has left his family to try to make some money to keep them healthy.
• They eat anything that moves here. This is some roasted dog's head. It wasn't hard to say no.

• Fruit is exponentially more delicious here. Even ordinary fruit like oranges or bananas taste exotic.
• Plantain = my favorite! Fried, deep-fried, roasted, or dried – I don’t care cause it is all so good. (Plantain is like a marriage between a banana and something starchier. That’s a terrible description.)
• Since the Liberian diet rarely contains dairy, people get their calcium by chewing bones.
• Surfing is hard. Really hard. It is also very humbling.

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.