The Golden Coal Pot of Doe Palace

Pre-service Training is not all work.  While we spend a good deal of time in the lecture hall learning about culture, safety, and language, and we have some time to ourselves, we also have some structured social/fun activities.  I decided to try and help organize some of them (of course, I think I really did it to try to take my mind off things, and give myself something to look forward to and prevent myself from wanting to leave.  Needless to say, that plan didn't work).  The first week we had trivia night.  Normally I enjoy trivia (I was on a quiz bowl team in high school that placed second in state), but this was less my style.  It was pub trivia, at the guest house and bar that was located just outside our training compound, so everyone was drinking copious amounts of beer (well, not EVERYONE, I just had a Sprite- as it turns out, Coke, Sprite, and Fanta are reasonably accessible in the larger towns of Liberia- good to know if you occasionally need a soda fix.)  The four trivia categories were Liberian culture, pop culture, music, and sports- anyone who knows me will not be surprised that this was not my best trivia night.

The second week's social activity was to be a volleyball tournament (initially it was going to be a talent show, but we switched them so that people had more time to get to know each other and plan and rehearse acts.)  Anyway, another trainee, Alex, and I decided it would be cool to make a trophy to award the winners of the volleyball tournament.  We decided to use a coal pot, which is essentially a small charcoal grill that is the most common cooking appartus in Liberia, and is vaguely trophy-shaped, and then decorate it with paint.  We weren't sure how to go about aquiring a coal pot in the town market, though, so we asked some of the Liberian training staff- the Volunteer Leader told us to ask a man named Sackey.  As we were new to Liberian English, and still not quite sure how to overcome cultural barriers, Sackey initially misunderstood our request to accompany us into town so that we could purchase a coal pot to paint into a trophy, and later that afternoon he returned with a small plastic trophy that a friend of his was trying to sell.  We thanked him, but explained that we wanted to make one ourselves.  We got then got Prince, our Liberian Safety and Security Officer, to drive us into Kakata to purchase the coal pot.  We had walked through the town the day before, and Alex and I both thought it felt a bit surreal to be driving through- as if we were not a part of the scene we saw out the windows.  Prince occasionally stopped the car to greet a friend, and eventually we found someone who knew someone else who was selling a coal pot.  His friend told another man who owned a motorcycle to guide us to the house that was selling.  We followed the motorcycle through the market, and up a hill past a number of houses, before the motorcyclist stopped and went down to a house.  Soon, he returned with the seller, who was carrying the coal pot.  It was a bit rusty, and the paint was very chipped, but since we were going to repaint it anyway, we happily bought it for $150 Liberian dollars (which is about $2 US).

Here it is, before we started working on it.

We then returned to the main market street, off one of the few paved roads in Liberia that runs through the center of Kakata all the way to Monrovia.  Most of the shops along this road were set up in concrete buildings and sold larger items like mattresses.  A few even had frozen meat.  If you turned down the dirt road, that would bring you to the more stall-like shops selling more things like beans, vegetables, and lappa fabric.  Along the paved road, however, were a few hardware stores.  We found a wire brush with which to scrape off the old paint, but no sandpaper to clean the rust, and no paint.  However, there was another hardware store which was closed that day, so Alex resolved to check that place the next day.  We returned to Doe Palace and scraped some of the chipping paint, then stashed our prize in the office, so that we could keep it a secret from most of the other trainees.

Alex did managed to track down some sandpaper and gold spray paint the next day, so we scraped off the rest of the rust and painted it before heading off to site exposure.  Rebecca, one of the currently serving volunteers who was helping with training, agreed to bring us some other paints back from her site.  Unfortunately, the day we got back from site exposure was the day I told our Country Director that I was not going to stay in Peace Corps.  However, Alex agreed that we should get the trophy finished before I left, so that evening, we borrowed Rebecca's paints and tracked down a Sharpie marker to decorate.  We left some space for the winning team to write their names, and we hope to leave it at Doe Palace to be used in future PST's volleyball tournaments.  Not much of a legacy to leave, I suppose, compared to the good I could have done had I taught in the schools for two years, but a fun experience in Liberian shopping nonetheless, and a relaxing way to spend my final night in Kakata.

The finished product, sans winning team names inside the cup.

Kakata

As promised, here is some stories from the short time I was in Liberia.  This first post is generally about the first few days at the Peace Corps Training Center.

Peace Corps training takes place in Doe Palace, named after Samuel Doe, a previous president of Liberia.  It is located in the town of Kakata.  The first few days of training were spent listening to lectures about health, safety, and culture, as well as exploring the town to start to get a feel for Liberia.    A few PCVs from the groups before us were at training to answer our questions and show us around.  I think the highlight of the first couple days was walking around the Kakata marketplace.

As we walked from Doe Palace to the market area, small children came running out of their houses to greet us.  Some simply stayed on the porch and waved, others came down and wanted fistbumps.  As far as I can tell, only young children use fistbumps as a greeting here.  Between adults, the handshake is a bit more complicated.  While it varies from person to person, the Liberian handshake always begins like an American handshake and ends with a fingersnap.  It can be more complex, but as I found that following the lead of whoever I am shaking with seems to work well. (I probably have the years of social ballroom dance to thank for my physical following skills).  Many of the Peace Corps staff are Liberian, and made sure to practice the handshake with all of us until we knew it.  I think the people in the market were impressed that we had only been in the country for one day and already knew the handshake, even though we were still having trouble speaking Liberian English (more on that later).

The market in Kakata is quite large, with vendors selling everything from food to lappa fabric to cookware to secondhand clothes.  Charlene, one of the current volunteers showed us the best laundry soap to buy, where to get lappa fabric, and which fruits and vegatables were available and how it was generally best to prepare them; as well as a quick crash course in what to expect to pay for things- vendors may increase their prices when they have a white customer, so we should expect to have to barter them down.  (By the way, the Liberian English phrase for ripping someone off is “eating your eyeball”).  I was pleasantly surprised with how friendly and un-pushy the market vendors were.  Many were happy to stop you to say hello and would not push you to buy anything, and when Charlene told them she was just showing us things, they were happy to allow that without making us buy them.  I am not particularly well-travelled, but I realized I must have been subconsciously expecting that sort of marketplace to be like what I had seen other places, where if you let your gaze rest on an item for more than a microsecond, the vendor would shove it into your hands and demand money.  But, that is one of the main goals of Peace Corps: to build an understanding of other cultures on the part of Americans.  I don’t claim to fully understand Liberia, but I at least have a realistic first impression.

We did buy some rambutans, (locally known as Monkey Apples), a spiky fruit related to lychees, from a little girl: 50 Liberian dollars (about 65 cents US) bought almost the entire trayful that she was carrying on her head.  We ate them as we visited the high school in Kakata and met the Peace Corps volunteer who taught there, before returning to the air-conditioned, wifi-enabled Doe Palace for dinner.

Follow Your Dreams

I’ll start plainly:  After a week and a half in the Peace Corps, I am heading back to the US.  Why? You are probably asking.  I have noting against the Peace Corps, or Liberia.  It is a wonderful program, and is a very good thing for a lot of people. My reasons for leaving were entirely personal.  While I feel like this is somewhat embarrassing to admit, I do think I owe an honest explanation to my family and friends.  And I know that I found Peace Corps blogs very useful learning tools while I was applying, so I can hope that, by publishing this, I can offer insight to some future invitee or nominee who is on the fence.  (NOT that I am openly discouraging anyone from joining the Peace Corps- I am just encourage everyone to really think about their decision and follow their heart).

My Peace Corps application took a VERY long time- 18 months from the start of the application to departing for Liberia.  Generally, Peace Corps takes 9-12 months, and this is what I was expecting when I applied.  I had hoped to leave soon after my college graduation, although that was only about 6 months from when I turned in the application.  It was just one of dozens of job applications, but Peace Corps was the one I was most sure I could get- the odds for others were just too steep and I lacked technical experience.  I figured I would graduate, get some temporary jobs if necessary, and then leave.  But in that year between graduating and departure (and it was exactly a year: I graduated on June 17, 2012, and staging was on June 17, 2013) a lot changed.  The part-time jobs I had gotten to fill time and pay rent ended up being much more enjoyable than I had anticipated, and closely aligned with my ultimate career goals (I eventually want to work at an aquarium or zoo, so I figured working part-time at a children’s museum and part-time at a pet store was a reasonable first step).  The museum in particular was hard to leave, but when I finally got my Peace Corps invitation, I was both caught in the momentum I had built up attempting to prepare my life for Peace Corps and determined to not simply pass up this sort of opportunity.

For the first week or so after I got my invitation, I was mostly excited to be done waiting.  While I was a little bit disappointed to have been assigned as a secondary math teacher, rather than in environmental education (for which my regional recruiter nominated me), I was excited by the prospect of finally getting what I had worked at for so long.  But as time went by and I learned more about Liberia, I began to wonder if this is what I really wanted.  I knew for sure that I didn’t want to be a classroom teacher forever, and I was worried about spending two years getting experience in only that, though I knew Peace Corps was its own, much bigger experience as well (and would certainly look better on a resume than teaching for two years in America).  I continued with the process, passing medical clearance, applying for visas, and quitting my job at the museum, with each step making me feel more like I was stuck with the decision- that I had to continue moving forward, as it would be too much of a waste to turn back.  Sometimes, especially over the last two months before departure, I felt like this was the ONLY reason I was carrying on.  But I assured myself that doubts and second-guessing myself were normal when making a big decision.  I told myself that if I passed up this opportunity, I would regret it forever.  I asked myself if I was really reluctant to go to Liberia, or just sad to leave my life in California.

If you re-read my first few blog posts, it may become clear that by the time I left, I was just grasping at everything I could to try to convince myself.  But, I was determined to at least try.  Although I only admitted it to a few people, I hardly expected that I would stay for long.  I knew that people dropped out of Peace Corps midway through training, or even partway into service, and I half-expected to be one of them. I hoped that Liberia would somehow magically be so much more than I had expected, that as soon as I arrived, I would really and truly want to be there for two years.

Of course, it didn’t take long in-country to realize I couldn’t force the issue with myself.  I knew I was on a good path for my life, I knew what I wanted to do next, and I saw no good reason to keep pushing myself to stay in Liberia for two whole years when my heart just wasn’t in it.  I was not happy in the heat and humidity, or eating so much spicy food.  To top it all off, my body did not like the antimalarial medication I had to take.  I thought, I could deal with the physical hardships if I really cared about my project.  But classroom teaching is not something I care deeply about.  If I had stayed, I would have been drained, and not had a good attitude about being there.  It wouldn’t have been fair to myself, to my students, or to my fellow Volunteers.  So I left.

What’s next? You ask.  I will hopefully return to the Bay Area, and if all goes well I can return to my old job at the children’s museum, or perhaps a different museum.  And probably, in a year or two, I will start graduate school.  A lot of decisions still need to be made in the next few months, but I do feel like the first decision, leaving Peace Corps, was the right thing for me at this time in my life.

I do have some half-drafted blog posts that chronicle my short-lived adventure, which will be posted soon, so watch for those if you are interested.