You can't save everyone.

That is the sad truth.

I'd say 90% of the population here needs help. It's one of hardest things about spending time in Liberia, you have to accept that you are only human. That you have to leave, eventually. We are following many stories in this documentary, and to be honest, they all won't have a happy ending. We've had some major disappointments already this week.
But this post is not about that.

This post is about the fact that today we had a happy ending. Or rather, we helped save someone. Two someones.
Two people will have a second chance at a bright future, thanks to our intervention. In every case, the question of how involved to get, inevitably comes up. What's best for them? What's too much for us? Can you really help? Should you even try if you can't stay? On and on...

We've introduced many characters and stories in this blog, and have no intention of giving it all away. You'll just have to wait for the film. But I will say, today rocked.

"White woma, white woma take ma picture"

There is a reason for the proliferation of pictures of children in Africa.
Its because they love the camera. Everywhere we went in Lofa we were followed by groups of children, shouting "White woman, white woman, take my picture." It was usually followed by the phrase "Give me small small thing", hoping for some money.

At first its as little disconcerting but you get used to it. Some of the younger ones, not used to 

(or having never seen) white people scream and run away in fear, usually to the delight of the other children present. During production if we are not doing a 2 camera shoot, its usually my job to distract the hordes with my camera.  Either way it makes for some great photos, as you see here.

"Small small thing" is a Liberian slang phrase that can mean a lot of things, not just money, as I learned. During one street interview we asked a teenage boy if he had sex with his girlfriend. The answer was of course not! Joel jumped in  to help us out, asking if he and his girlfriend did "small small thing", and the answer was, Of course, all the time!  I've asked a number of times but there really is no comprable phrase for "big big thing."

 

  

  

  

  

 

Up Country

Last week we decided that it was really important for the film to get out of Monrovia and talk to folks in the rest of the country as part of this film. So we talked to  our press contact at the UN and he booked us on a flight to Voinjama, the major "city" in Lofa county up North.  Liberia is NOT Monrovia. Monrovia is the westernized  capita, the seat of the government, and the closest thing Liberia has to a city.  But half hour out, you are in the Bush.  One needs to remember that Liberia is Monrovia AND the Bush. Each place functions by its own set of laws and sometimes those laws are at odds.  The Bush is dense mountanous Jungle,part of the Guinnea equatorial rainforest, and one of the most biodiverse eco systems in the word.  It is also one of the most beautiful and destitute places I have ever seen. 

We picked this destination because of the high percentage of excombatants and the fact that it is as far away from Monrovia as we could get in rainy season.  As guests of UNMIL, we flew out of Monrovia without a hitch on Tuesday on a small charter flight with some guys from the Pakistani Battalion. Pak Bat has over 800 soliders stationed in Vonjama. From what everyone told us getting to and from Vonjama would be "no problem" But here, its actually very hard to get an honest answer on anything. For example whenever we ask how far away something is, the answer is "not far". If we ask how long something will take, the answer is " 15 minutes" When we asked if we would have problems with the weather, the answer was "it will be fine".

We arrived in Voinjama on Tuesday and set about making schedules to talk to people. The first person we encountered at the UNMIL guest house was Colonel Dan, a UN Military observer. He though the idea of us making any plans to get anything done in Vonjama was highly comical, and he was right. This is Africa, After all.  He also promptly informed us that no matter what anyone told us in Monrovia, given the weather conditions we should plan to be stuck in Vonjama, if not we should be prepared for the "bad road".  You may think that you know what a "bad road" is but you dont, not in Africa.

This is bad road.

We spent 9 hours on "bad road" driving back to Monrovia on Thursday. I wasn't really worried though that we'd get stuck in the bush, as Jess had purchased a protection bracelet from a local with doctor while in Vonjama. I did lose my bet with Colonel Dan about us flying out though.
 

Just for reference, this is good road.

Travel in the bush means following all of the little dirt paths of the main road to get to various villages.  During rainy season, those living in the bush are effectively cut off from the rest of the country. Travel is not that much easier in dry season either, with long distances between destinations.  Life in the bush is hard. Women work in rice fields or make small businesses selling. Bush Women and children are the backbone of the family unit. Working, going to school ( if the children are lucky), and taking care of the men. In Vonjama we saw some men making businesses or driving motor bike taxis, but we also saw a lot of them sitting around.

UNMIL assigned Joel Jacobs, a radio journalist to help facilitate and a vehicle to get around for our stay. 

The first thing we did was climb to the center of town and shoot the landscape from a large hill. 

We learned that things wrap up early in Vonjama, most people are done work by 2, so we decided to take to the streets and talk to the locals. Our film is about violence against women but in order to understand that we felt it was important to talk to men about their attitudes and relationships.

 We interviewed some men at a local tailor shop, a few boys on their bikes and some Mandigo community leaders.

We then decided to talk to the motor boys, many of whom are ex-combatants. A lot of the fighting in the second civil war was done in Lofa County and many of the fighters stayed.

Joel introduced us to one moto boy who was a commander in the war. Not only did he fight in Liberia but also in Sierra Leone and Guinnea before giving up his gun. We asked him some initial harmless questions, in order to build trust, so we could interview him about the war at a later date. He told us that at 16 years old he was in charge of a fighting force of 160 young men and boys.

We spent the second day talking to the local police and some INGO's. Sadly, we were not able to find anyone running GBV programs, as most of them are in the early stages of pulling out so any programs that were once there are gone. We did have some great off the record conversations with folks from UNHCR and some other UN Military observers.

We visited Tellowan Hospital constructed and paid for by the Swiss and run in conjunction with an international medical NGO. It was a REALLY nice hospital ( for Africa).

 The hospital was totally destroyed during the war, and recently rebuilt.  Jessica and I were blown away to see a functioning lab and a fully stocked medicine room where someone actually catalogued what was going in and out.

 Dr Lambert gave us a personal tour of the facilities and a great interview.  Its the only free hospital in Liberia right now, except for the programs run by MSF which are wrapping up and for critical cases only. The hospital will be free  for the next two years until the government takes it over. The shame of it is that there is no guarantee that the quality of service offered there now  will continue when its Liberian run. Sad to say, but true. On the flip side, it was really great to see that decent medical care in Liberia is possible.

The second night we were also lucky to witness to a phenomenal sunset.

The population of Vonjama and the surrounding areas is half mandingo and half Gola. The Mandingo are African Muslims and probably the most powerful tribe in the area. 

In the bush there is a high rate of child marriage with the ideal age for a wife between 13-18. Many of the girls we encountered on the higher end of that age range already had multiple children. Men often times had numerous (3-4) wives, and are very proud of this fact. In fact the Mandingo encourage this practice heavily.  Having multiple wives is an age old custom not only in Africa but other parts of the world. Because of the dominance of Christianity in Monrovia, this practice seems to have been "stopped". So now men only have one "wife" but multiple girlfriends.   Monogamy is not the norm here, at all.  At least in the bush there is a traditional structure that governs polygamy, whereas in Monrovia, its a sexual free for all. This  often times ends in abandonment.  Our third day in Lofa we decided to visit a Mandingo village and talk some of the young men and women living there. 

While in Vonjama, I even got to visit a local entertainment center (bar). I was really excited to be able to walk around at night because in Monrovia its just not possible. After 9 pm it's really not safe.But the Bush is not Monrovia, and the nights in the jungle are beautiful.  The bar was even complete with a poster of Brittany Spears.

God, Allah, and the Devil walk into a bar...

Watch out men of the world, I'm now the proud owner of a "love ring," given to me by a medicine man (aka witch doctor) in Voinjama, Liberia. If I am wearing this ring and tell you "I love you," you will be enchanted and mine for life. Or so he told me.
He also sold me a "bracelet of protection." If i am wearing this bracelet and it starts to burn, it means I am approaching danger and should reconsider my actions right away. Or so he told me.
He can also cure snake bites, curses, upset stomachs, and an array of other ailments. Another medicine man claims to even cure advanced HIV.

Bush tradition is a strange and fascinating thing. It provokes awe, wonder, and mostly fear. The secret society aspect of it is so mysterious, not even the UN Military touches it. You ask around, you get anecdotes, nothing more. One colonel in Voinjama warned us not to go treking alone in the jungle because white people are often considered trophies (especially those in uniform). Another Liberian told us of jungle dwarves (ghosts) that live in the mountains and don't like to be messed with. We also heard that for secret society initiations, men are sent out into the bush for a month, alone, into "the stomach of the devil," to see if they survive.

Now I know a bunch of you are going to email us because you're worried. The same thing happened after the Devil post last time. But please, don't. We are fine. Back in Monrovia. We aren't meddling in secret society culture and have no intention of doing so....however...

You can't go to Liberia and NOT consider the ancient traditions and ways of life, especially out in the bush. This is a country where, outside Monrovia, there is almost no contact with the rest of the world. The roads are mostly useless, there's no electricity unless you're in an NGO compound, and notions of the modern world come only from the few visiters a village may get in a year. So little contact, in fact, that many village children are scared to death of white people at first. They don't know what we are. In Todee last week, B's son kept asking her how the white people were doing "magic," referring to the camera's ability to capture his image.
Once a village gets a few visiters here and there (like the UN, an NGO, or 2 crazy documentarians), the kids realize white people are human, but also see us as either there to take photos or to give them "small small thing." Sadly, that's the only reason most people would go to a remote Liberian village. That, or you're a missionary.

I heard one girl refer to white people as "angels," because they just appear from God, with food and money in hand. I'm no angel but can you blame them for their beliefs? It was the Christians who started pushing the term "devil" to describe animist shamans, who were channeling spirits of the forest. Catholics who also practice torturous exorcism in Liberia now. One woman who was described as "the crazy exorcist lady," performs ceremonies so excrutiating, people have died. Today we heard the churches here often use exorcism to rid Liberians of the demons inside them (usually post traumatic stress, drug addiction, or severe trauma flashbacks).

Add into the mix the large Mandingo population, and you just have a mess. They are very traditional Muslims, proudly having up to 4 wives and practicing genital mutilation. Bad it may seem, but they are mostly peaceful. They are also strongly against abortion, which here causes countless deaths (it's usually attempted by swallowing bleach or using a coat hanger).

It's worth mentioning though, that the Christian missionaries here also do great work. They dig wells, build homes, plant crops. For every "crazy exorcist lady" there are hundreds of hard working volunteers, even if they do have a religious agenda. Just as for every extreme secret society ritual, there are hundreds of valuable laws and traditions in place to keep a community functioning.

The Bush Part 1

It's not about how "good" the road is, it's about how far your destination is from the road.

B has been wanting to go back to her village Todee. Not only to get some belongings, but to get her son. In addition to O she has two other children. Her youngest daughter is with her sister but her son has been in Todee since O went to the hospital.  It is where she grew up and also where O was found a few years ago, hidden away in shame from the world. We were supposed to go last week but couldn't because the "devil" was there. (See earlier post for more details on that)
Well, the devil left town. Time for a trip to the bush.

Before just hopping in a car, we had to do our homework. It's rainy season, the roads are bad to begin with, and our car is not in the best of shape (to put it nicely). Everyone has been telling us its only one hour from Monrovia. "An easy ride!" "The roads are fine." "No problem!"
About an hour out of Monrovia, we get to Todee Junction and turn left, down a dirt "road." This is when B decides to tell us that it's been 10 years since she came here by car, she usually hops a train used for the diamond mines.  Another hour and a half later we take a right turn on to something i can't even call a road. It was a path.

 A path made by a large 4 wheel drive vehicle during dry season. We had been asking Louis the whole ride "Are you sure this car will be ok?" His response, no matter what, is always "Of course! Don't worry!"  Five minutes later we were stuck in the mud.

 Thanks to the strong arms of several guys in the area, we got out. No taking the road to the village, but we'd come too far to give up.

B said that we could walk there if we parked at a nearby village, but wasn't convinced Nika and I could handle the trek. (This coming from an 8 1/2 month pregnant woman wearing a dress and flip-flops) We told her not to worry, we walk all the time in NY. It was she we were concerned about. She laughed, this was apparently very funny. It would be a while before we figured out why.

4 miles and 1.5 hours later, up hills, through mud, over rivers... we finally arrived at her village. A distance B says she used to walk every day, to and from the market.

 

 

 The village was a small cluster of mud and thatch houses with a small church. Most of it had been destroyed by gangs during the war and never rebuilt.  About 40 people live in the immediate vicinity but the total population is about 196 people scattered throughout the bush.  "Ol' Pa" is the village elder, the entire population being part of the same "family." B is one of 17 children from one of ol' pa's 4 wives.

 We spent the afternoon with her family talking, learning more Kpelle and just hanging out. B was really happy to see her father and he seemed really happy to see her too. It's not easy for her to get home, especially having to take care of O. Because the rape happened in this village, O can't go back. The man accused of doing it is being hidden here from authorities. This fact was not lost on us, or them.

Ol' Pa was very honored that we walked all that way through the bush just to meet him, and as a thank you he sent us off with bags of cucumbers and a rooster, who we named Bob.
We weren't really sure what to do with Bob, but to turn down the gift would have seen as an insult. As proud owners of a rooster we began our 4 mile trek out of the jungle, trying to beat sundown.

 This morning we said goodbye to Bob. We couldn't personally bring ourselves to eat him, but he made a wonderful soup to take to the hospital for a very hungry O.

Palm Grove RIP

Palm Grove Cemetery in downtown Monrovia. Vast and overgrown. Closed and walled in as of 2007. If you want to visit a family member buried there you have exactly one day in March, each year, to do so. That is, of course, if your family member is still in his/her tomb, not thrown aside to make room for a homeless ex-combatant. Coffins taken out and sold back to funeral homes.


With some help from Louis and Donetta, we took Samuel and Patience to their old home. The place they lived until 2007 when they were kicked out. They each pointed out which tomb they stayed in, hopping from grave to grave, story after story about the drastic measures they took to survive. They are gruesome tales, and even after all we've seen and heard, I was completely speechless. We witnessed moments which I will never forget and which blogs don't do justice. You'll just have to see it for yourselves.

Its not a safe house if people know where it is.

 

Yesterday we visited a safe house for victims of  rape  and abuse. While child rape is a big issue here, and a buzzword in the international and donor community, it is really only one aspect of the violence children are exposed to.  Many are neglected, beaten, abandoned and starving. This is the norm, not the exception. Generally speaking the family unit is often seriously disrupted for a variety of reasons, the main one being poverty.  Some of the children agreed to share their personal stories with us on camera.  The girl below was beaten so badly for taking a bite of food that the police brought her directly to the safe house.

 We spent about 2 hours talking to the women the OCIWA safe house.  There are only a few safe houses in Monrovia, and this is the largest with the total capacity for about 60 girls. On average they have about 20 girls ranging in ages from 5-16. Its hard to tell actually how old some of the children are since there are no birth certificates children here children are chronically malnourished, often times stunting their growth.

Women Aid not only has the safe house but when there is funding also does community outreach, family counseling and counseling of perpetrators and men, literacy training and puts the girls through school. The goal is to return the girls to their families or to relatives that can provide safe and understanding environments. There are a few special cases that will remain at the center because there is no where else for them to go.

After we talk to Mrs Kamana who founded Women Aid, we spent a few hours playing with the girls and taking photographs.  I would love to share them here but for the sake of the survivors, its important we protect their identities. We played football and a game called lampa. Listening to all of the terrible things that has happened to these girls, I forgot for a moment that they are still children, who can joke and laugh and play. I'm glad they reminded me.

Eight dollars

As you might recall, O's mom is pregnant. Really pregnant. After she took O to the hospital this past year she was kicked out of her community. For B that means no support of any kind. Her husband left her too, so no money. A lot of women from bush communities don't have any education and depend on the men for the money. Plus, they often have a lot of kids. No man can easily mean no food.

While O was still in the hospital, B decided to go find a man to take care of her. She got pregnant in the process and the new man is nowhere in sight.

Her plan was to return alone to the village to have her baby in the bush.

Bad idea. Not only because her community ostracized her, but because there is ZERO prenatal care in traditional medicine. That means, basically, that once you're pregnant you just hope for the best. Sure, they have traditional midwives to help deliver, but that's all they do. Deliver. They can't tell you if the fetus is healthy, or even alive. And if there's any complication, too bad. I can't tell you how many stories I've heard of women being rushed to the ER after being in labor for 4-5 days out in the bush. The baby is half out, is now a still born, and the mom is in septic shock. The maternal mortality rate here is outrageous.

So here is B sitting at the hospital one day, when she starts talking about this planned bush delivery. Needless to say, everyone (doctors, nurses, patients, us) jump in and demand she stay at JFK to have the baby. O is there, she is already there, and it's the healthiest option. She agrees (not that we gave her much choice).

We find out a few days later that an ultrasound was ordered but B never got it because she couldn't see why she should. It's 500LD to get one, and that money could be used for food. When Nika and I heard this we shook our heads.

500LD is about $8. Yes, eight dollars. You can see where this is going.

I went over to Emma the nurse and told her to order this woman's ultrasound. The $8 will be covered. B was touched, but said she's still rather have the $8 for food. Nika and I assured her that it wasn't either or, and she should just accept it.

Today was ultrasound day. We arrived at JFK and took our $8 to the cashiers window. One ultrasound coming up for a very pregnant lady. (As a side note, B started appreciating the concept when i jokingly asked "But what if there are 2 babies in there? Or 3? Or 5? Don't you want to know?" Nika then told her about "OctoMom." She looked horrified and was much happier about the plan.)

We went in and B got her news. And this, my friends, is why we get ultrasounds. B's baby is in breech position with the cord wrapped around it's neck (or as Dr Jallah here puts it "butt first.") I'm obviously not a doctor, so here's what we were told. There's a chance the baby will flip over on it's own before she goes in to labor, but it's also likely it will not. She may be able to deliver in "butt first" position, but only if the baby is on the small side. The main issue is the cord around the neck. Dr Jallah therefor recommended a C Section be scheduled, with another ultrasound prior. Maybe she'll go in to labor and be fine, but maybe not. Why risk it?

B is not happy about this. She doesn't want surgery. And can you blame her? She's never had one, and it's expensive. When all is said and done a C Section (including drugs) costs $100. That may seem like nothing, but for B it's a fortune.

The nurses, patients, B and I were sitting around at the end of the day casually discussing B's possible surgery. They convinced her that it's ok and for the best. I also told her that Nika and I would be there holding her hand, if she wants, since she has no one else here except O, who I doubt is allowed in the OR. That seemed to help some.

When one patient turned to her and asked who will give her the money, she looked toward the sky and said "God."

Street Life, Part 2

Our next round of interviews were at the abandoned Euro Building which is  a bombed out 5 story high rise with no exterior walls in the center of Monrovia. Donetta had found a few women and one boy willing to talk to us. 

We began to climb the stairs to enter the building but at the second floor a commotion started.  When all the shouting began ,a couple of women pulled Jess and I  and upstairs,  indicating we should just let the men sort it out. Like everything in Monrovia, it came down to money. If we wanted to shoot we had to pay the "landlord" . Another $10  for the big boss and we were good to go. The view from the building was stunning. Most of the large structures in Monrovia  are either government occupied or completely bombed out, so it was the first time I was able to get a panoramic view of the city.

Turns out the leader of the "security force" on the stairs was second in command to the "landlord".  He was the one that negotiated our entry and would also be the one to choose who we talked to. We ended up interviewing 5 women of various ages, all working as prostitutes. We also spoke with one boy who makes his money washing windows, stealing, and keeping an eye on his girlfriend when she turns tricks. One girl was from Guinea, another just had a baby a few days ago. Most were in Liberia during the last civil war. Most of the women with children had sent them to live somewhere else. In situation like this a child is a liability.

As we were filming, the vibe in the room became much more relaxed and friendly. The same boys who had protected the building by not letting us in formed a loose security for us as more and more people filtered in to see what was going on. .Louis Pulled me aside and said that there was another girl we should talk to. She was a commander in the war.

I began to talk to the boy, whom I'll call Joey, and it came to light that he was a child solider in the second war. He pointed to the same girl Louis had mentioned and referred to her as  his "sister" whom he fought with on the front lines and had been looking out for ever since. Joey began to tell us about DDRR and what happened after the war. He told me that it was only a few months ago that his "sister" had begun to come around and start talking again.  She went crazy after the war, wandering around the streets and scratching at the ground.

Before we began the interview with her I noticed one of the men was leaning over her aggressively and quietly yelling in her ear.  I realized he was probably telling her not to say anything to us.  She was young, maybe 18 at most. Joey later told me that the guy was her husband.  When the war was over many just settled where they were. The security of this building were "excombatants".   These women we are still at their mercy.

About 70% of all LIberian women were sexually assaulted during the war. Often times female soldiers were abducted as children and given the choice to join a faction or die. Girls joined as soldiers sometimes, but more often they carried ammunition, cooked, and offered support on the front lines and at the camps, all the while physically and sexually at the mercy  of the groups they were aligned with. Commonly girls were given to soldiers as bush wives. It was better to be the wife of one solider no matter how he treated you then to be used by the entire battalion. It was and is a matter of survival.

 We finished the filming, paid the people for the interviews. Security escorted us out very graciously to our car, laughing and joking as we went. Everything was on the level, and it was all good.

At lunch Louis confirmed my suspicions.  Yes, those guys were ex-combatants and also drug dealers. He had run into then in his day job as a policeman. The women will probably keep very little of the money we gave them for their time. Most of it will go to feed the whole group, a portion to their husbands and maybe if they are lucky some for themselves. When the government comes and raids these buildings to try and clear them, the people that go live in the tombs in the cemetary in the center of town. They sweep out the bones and squat there until they can go back to the Euro Building.

This was one of the hardest days so far, not only because of the stories but because there really is nothing we can do to help alleviate the situation, not anytime soon.

 I have come to learn that here often times the only resource a woman has is her body. Getting to know O as well as I am, one of the saddest things about her condition is that she does not even have that. We decided that we wanted to follow up with Joey and his sister, so arranged to meet them another day.

Street Life, Part 1

We spoke to some other sex workers who had been hooking for much longer  providing services on the streets. Often times little boys go out to find johns. These women were taking customers for about $20-50 LD a trick. 

To put this in financial perspective the conversion rate is about 70LD to 1 USD.  A pack of cigarettes costs about 70 LD or $1 USD. If these women are having sex for about 20-50 LD,that comes out to be around 25-40 Cents. CENTS!!!!  A meal at an average Liberian restaurant costs about $200-$250 LD per person. So IF these girls are lucky they might make $1 USD a day by sleeping with 3-5 men.  Often times they do not even get paid at all, as the men will beat them when they are finished and just walk away, or throw whatever they think the time was worth on the ground for the women to scramble for.  

Both women had been on the streets since they were small teenagers and were now approaching 30. The pain of life was extremely visible in their faces as they told us very similar stories of having no other choice but to sell themselves in order to eat. Both women had children. One died in the war due to sickness (probably malaria or starvation) The other sent her children away to live with her "sister" .  I am not sure the last time she had seen her daughter. She sends money when she can.

We conducted these interviews openly in the slums, which began to cause quite a commotion. Louis sorted it out like a champion. I overheard him explaining very sensitively that we were not there to take advantage of their disadvantage.  We wanted to try and tell the world about what happens in Liberia and that maybe it would cause some people to help.  The harsh truth of that, is we can tell there stories but it wont actually change the day to day reality of life for these women.  It may lead to changes in a generation or two, at best.

After we paid the women $10 USD each ( which is about what these ladies make in 2 weeks time) one asked us if we wanted to talk to more people and see where she lived.
Of course we agreed, and off we went.