Liberia

Liberia This is beach in Monrovia, they are often crowded and are a very popular place for tourists

Mt Nimba in Liberia known for being a 1 mile high iron ore

Waterside Market place in Monrovia, the capitol city.

A Coffee bean plant on a coffee bean plantation in Liberia

A physical map of Liberia showing elevation, rivers, towns, and Liberia's borders

http://www.ezilon.com/maps/africa/liberia-physical-maps.html

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__A Little Bit of Different__ __By Sam Henkel__

I stepped out of a small hut which here, in Liberia, is considered a home by many people. As I begin my journey back to the “Mamba Point Hotel” in Monrovia, which is a bit of a walk from the dirty, sad looking place where I had just been eating. Considering the fact that I’m a pretty well off woman, I, myself, began to wonder why exactly I had been eating in a hut in a poor neighborhood. The woman I had been eating with, Poady, was, as far as I knew, just as well off as I. Poady, was a lovely Liberian woman, she ran a small coffee bean business, and was very kind.

The reason I went to Liberia in the first place was for business reasons, actually I planned on meeting with Poady everyday that I was staying in Monrovia. I had also planned on possibly investing in her business so she could expand. Poady spoke English, like many of the people in her country, and offered to show me what life outside of the capitol city, Monrovia was like. She asked if I’d be interested in staying in a house on the plantation with her, her husband, Konmlan, and their daughter, Kumba. When I told her yes she told me to meet her at 8:00a.m. in the lobby of my hotel. She said to bring my luggage down with me and to eat before we left because it would be a four hour drive to the 80-acre coffee plantation. She also said she wanted to give me a short tour of the house and land before I unpacked, showered, and changed.

When we arrived at the plantation, the weather was incredibly hot and humid, yet the area was lush and green. While I was gawking over the incredibly beautiful land, we had pulled up to the house. An admirable, two story, tan, Mediterranean style home, with a terra cotta roof, and four large,white columns in front of the door. The charm of the place took me by surprise, considering the fact that the first place I had met with Poady was a small tin roofed hut in a bad neighborhood, I was awestruck.

I got out of the car with Poady as she gestured to her daughter to take my luggage inside. Smiling, her daughter quickly obeyed. She didn’t say a word as she scooped up, what I thought to be a heavy suitcase, and trotted into the house. I don’t know if it was the amazed look on my face, or the fact that I hadn’t said a word, but some how Poady knew that I was surprised about the child's behavior. She told me that many children in Liberia are raised in small villages and grow up accustomed to work and therefore do not complain when they are given simple tasks. Konmlan laughed and said on one of his visits to America he remembered seeing many children throwing tantrums about silly things, as he took the car keys and started to go inside the house.

Poady then asked if I’d like to look at the house first or if I wanted to go straight to the fields. When I said fields she nodded and started forward on a brown, gravel path. Surrounding the path were many avocado, tangerine, and mango trees. The air smelt sweet like citrus and as we walked along the path I could feel my mouth watering from the delicious sights and smells, I could hardly believe I was on coffee bean plantation and not a fruit farm! After about three minutes of walking we arrived at a large field lined with tall bushes. “Here we are!” I remember her saying as she lead me to a row.

“This is a coffee plant, and this-” she said as she held up a cluster of yellow and crimson colored berries “is the berry that contains the coffee seed, most of the berries contain about two seeds, which take around seven to nine months to ripen” she continued “these-” she held up a cluster of green berries “are unripe.” Then, grabbing the large cluster of crimson berries she began to explain the process in which they are made, “We use a process commonly know as ‘strip picking’ it’s where berries are harvested regardless of wether they are ripe or not, they are later sorted out and the ones deemed ripe are put through a machine where the flesh of the berries are removed. Then the beans or seeds are put through a fermentation process where a layer of slime called mucilage is removed, then they are soaked in fresh water, and put out to dry. Then the coffee is sorted out and packaged.”

I told her how impressed I was, and she smiled and thanked me, she then offered me a tour of the home, and said if I’d like she could show me straight to my room where I could relax, she also informed me that the two of us and possibly Kumba would go to the Waterside Marketplace tomorrow in Monrovia. As we walked along the gravel path back to the main house, Poady reached up and grabbed a fresh mango from the tree, then handed it to me. I couldn’t help but admire the mango’s beautiful, bright colors. When Poady told me to try it, it was like nothing I’d ever eaten before, the flavor was fresh and cool like water, yet sugary sweet like candy. It was a flavor I’d never been able to previously acquire through the fruit I’d bought at Safeway. Satisfied with my reaction Poady continued down the path with me at her side,

laughing, she asked if I’d eaten a mango before. I told her “not one like that.” And embarrassed by the compliment she smiled and thanked me. Minutes later we reached the house and she opened the door. The house was beautifully furnished, styled with Moroccan light fixtures and pieces, I couldn’t help but smile and throw compliments at her about the beauty of her house. Laughing and thanking me she showed me up to my room and said if I would like anything I should not hesitate to ask. After I thanked her she left and I shut the door to my room, unlike the fields it was cool and comfortable in the house and I could relax easily. So I spent much of the rest of the day inside the house, looking forward to the market I would get to visit the next day.

We woke up early the next day, around 7:00a.m. Poady, Kumba, and I all pilled into the car to start the four hour drive back to Monrovia. I was surprised when I saw the market. There were stands of every type lined up right next to each other, people selling clothing, fruit, and jewelry. It was incredible the way these people were able to help themselves after a fourteen year war. I took a particular liking to one necklace, it was at a stand where there were rings, bracelets and necklaces all made of recycled bullet shells. This necklace was made out of fourteen flattened out bullet shells lined up next to one another each a different length then the next. I couldn’t help but buy it.

The market was special in the sense that you got to see two completely different liberian cultures standing literally right next to one another. Some women were dressed in traditional dress’s while some men were dressed in sandals and khaki shorts.

When we drove back home that day, at around 3:00p.m. It was only the third day of my week long trip to Liberia and I already knew what I wanted to do. After the full week was up I had decided to invest $400,000 into Poady’s coffee bean plantation. I get to go up and visit th e plantation often, staying with Poady and her family. I’d say I’m quite happy with my investment, and that it was worth every penny I paid.

WERE HAPPINESS COMES FROM. media type="file" key="Ami Culture Story.m4a"

In the time spent as a foreign traveller in Monrovia, Liberia, I experienced first hand how differently another countries government and culture is from my own. Liberian people have very poor living conditions, and 85% of them are unemployed, due to the countries severe poverty. Even so, all of the new neighbors and friends I had made during my stay seemed content with their lifestyle. I knew they all had legitimate stress and challenges in their lives with things like getting clean water and food, that I have never had to worry about. Weeks before I had gone to Liberia, I predicted that because of all the disadvantages people there had in their lives in terms of education, shelter or health, that they would feel much more burdened then people do in America, but it was far from the truth. The life that the liberians live is (to most of them) the only one they have ever known. They are always thankful for anything good that comes their way. One of the families I lived close to scored a very good bargain on some bread in town, their children ate their extra portions of bread outside on the porch. They had gleaming smiles on their faces, and enjoyed drawing on the street with some chalk for several hours. This completely changed my perspective on were happiness comes from. None of the people I met in liberia were truly unhappy in their lives, as I had expected. I realize now that just because my country is big and rich, doesn't mean we are smart. I doubt Americans could ever feel happy or satisfied with the bare minimum, like liberians. I look at America now, and I feel that we are one of the 'uptown rich kid' countries of the world. We as a whole don't understand how to appreciate most of the things we have, because we have never known what its like to not have these things. I was truly inspired by the Liberians happiness, and appreciation for nearly everything. The world would definitely be a better place if we could all learn to appreciate what life has given us.