Robertsport, Liberia: The Journey There

A camping trip on the beach at Robertsport, Liberia, was our plan for the Easter long weekend. It was about 150 kilometres north of the port we lived at in Monrovia. But one has to take into account the conditions of the roads (only half were paved on this journey) and the number and difficulty of the police and UN check points along the way.

Then there is the problem of transportation. We could not take a Mercy Ships land rover (which would have been the best and safest vehicle for the trip) so were left with two options: Liberian mini bus or Liberian taxi. A mini bus would mean waiting hours on the road. In a larger group you were almost guaranteed not to get a ride. Private taxis were our choice (private taxis work the same in the western world and public taxis work like the bus system on a circuit picking up people along the way).

We hired 5 taxis. Although this picture makes them look quite nice, they are pretty decrepit. The nice coverings for the interiors are mostly obselete. Window handles are gone, doors don't open, cars are constantly stalling and breaking down, tires popping, holes everywhere, etc..

Our taxi wasn't the worst and this was the view from the driver's side before we set off.

This was the view from the passenger side. Did I mention there are no seat belts and the taxi drivers drive like maniacs?

We set off. It seemed almost good until we hit 45km of dirt road. Our driver had already been restarting his car constantly while coasting in neutral on the paved sections. I wasn't convinced he was going to make it. The dirt roads were littered with huge gaping potholes and ditches (while the paved roads just had potholes) and the cars were continually bottoming out.

The first mishap was predictable. Our car had a slow leak in the rear left tire. We had stopped for air on the way, but the dirt road flattened the tire completely.

luckily one of the cars had a spare, which utterly surprised me. We were pretty far from any civilization.

It was dusty. Everyone was caked in red dirt that the road kicked up as we drove.

Every mile or so there was a rickety old wooden bridge that required a very slow crossing. This one pictured was particularly detrimental for us. Our car was in the lead when another in our caravan quickly pulled in front of us and zoomed off in a cloud of dust. The dust clouds failed to settle quickly and we drove in a fog. Little did we know the car ahead had come to a quick stop in order to navigate a sudden bridge. We were a few meters from them when someone in our vehicle just barely saw them.

"Shit!", Nigel yelled. "Brace yourself!"

This was the point I looked out the front, but it was too late, we were screeching, skidding, and finally slammed into them before I could grip. I was thrown up to the ceiling and hit my head. We saw them lose control, barely make it over the bridge, and then break the barrier and plunge into the ditch on the other side.

Nigel immediately yelled at me, "get out of the car! The next one is going to hit us!" I turned around to look out the back window and knew we didn't have time to leap.

"Just brace yourself" I yelled back. The car behind us slammed on their brakes and managed to screech to a stop inches away from us.

We jumped out. Nigel ran over to the car in the ditch. I ran the other way waving my lapa (Liberian fabric wrap) to warn the other taxis to stop before there was a pile up.

Nigel went up to the window to see if everyone was alright. Thankfully they all were. Each passenger climbed out in a bit of a haze, whiplash being the worst thing anyone suffered. We were very lucky.

But the car was now stuck. The drivers were yelling at each other. I felt for them. Here was there livelihood and it was in a ditch in the middle of no where. They were angrily blaming each other.

There was discussion as to what to do. The car needed to be left so that they could file a police report (I am not sure what that would do in a country like Liberia). At the same time, it couldn't be left. It would almost certainly be stolen and the police were just as likely culprits as anyone else who might come along.

It turns out we were not far from the Pakistani UN base. They arrived on the scene and surveyed the damage.

The back was dented in, the back window shattered, and the front had a great dent where it had hit a tree and stopped.

But the whole middle section of the car looked fine and I was convinced it would still drive if we could just haul it out.

The UN sent for a vehicle with a winch.

We hitched a ride up the road to their base. The driver of the car continually commented on how the wonderful Muslims had saved us and how amazing the Muslims were. I agreed whole heartedly.

The survivors of the car in the ditch posed with their "rescuers".

The car soon joined us, not less than 20 minutes later. We climbed back in and continued on our journey. Such is life in Liberia.