The dock is the extension of the ship's “bubble” (the extension of our western lifestyles). Beyond the dock is a dirt road fenced in on either side by UN camps. It is termed a "safe" zone that is crowded by we westerners working off excess weight and trying to stay in shape (an irony I include myself in). The runners frequent the mornings and the walkers the night. It is a difficult space for the loner, half-time introvert, and nomad. The rules state that no one must enter the outside world without at least one person with them. This is post civil war Liberia, after all. Strangely being "outside" seems more developed and friendlier than Malawi in many ways: less harassment (probably due to the high number of NGO’s and UN) in Monrovia.
Beyond the dirt road is the real Liberia: throngs of people each individuals with their own stories and experiences of hardship, potholes and a zillion yellow cars that serve as taxis, strange and wonderful smells, and all sorts of assortment of stands and small shops that sell everything from candy to soap to rope.
Life on board is a gluttonous experience of luxury when considering what lies beyond the gate is poverty and the ravages of civil war (though surprisingly resilient, the infrastructure seems to be leaping back at an astonishing rate). Most needed: Weight Watchers and an in depth cultural sensitivity by either a local or a cultural anthropologist. I don’t mean to be rude, but the opportunity to eat must equal a cruise ship in the amount of snacks and junk one can easily acquire at most times of the day. There are 26 countries represented on board including many African nations. I am embarrassed by the opulence particularly in front of those who come from nations with less.
When I moved to Haiti on my own at 18 I was struck by how little people had. I ended my pack rat lifestyle (my collecting anything and everything to artistically fill every little space) and have since struggled with being an artist (how can I reconcile making what amounts to items of luxury for the elite?). As long as there was/is poverty in such great numbers it felt wrong to live blind-eyed far above it. Thus began my minimalist lifestyle. Each time I moved I whittled my belongings down to a couple of suitcases and gave the rest away. The older I got the harder it became to let little things go. I craved a bit of a place of my own (with a few nice kitchen appliances). Unfortunately, these days have seen me accumulate a bit more due to having a small business. But it is still a belief that I hold and practice despite being in a western country the majority of the time.
To balance this, there are some wonderful people on board. There have been two individuals, one Liberian and one Nigerian who have briefly touched on cultural sensitivies that we ought to be aware of. I wish with everything in me that they were offered a bigger platform. There are a number of others who have been serving who preach humility and respect. Their philosophy is one that I buy, one that is said in such a modest voice that any wind of rebellion is instantly disarmed in me. One must enter another’s nation with humbleness and the stance of a guest in someone else’s home. We must submit ourselves to the people living as they live, eating what they eat, speaking as they speak. Avoid coming with an attitude of knowing or superiority or a motive to save. Instead ask the community what you can do to help, if it is to leave, then leave. Gandhi and Mother Teresa had the right attitude.
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