I thought I'd include the above pictures in this, my last entry about Liberia. The left is a jello mold that was discovered by Rachel and myself while looking for a pan to cook lentils in. We found it, and she said, "Why would they make a jello mold of President Tolbert?" It is of course Harry Potter, but I understand the mistake, given the uncanny resemblance. So, Harry is pictured with three leaders of Liberia for comparison (I'd think Doe before I thought Tolbert...) for Rachel's benefit.
The right picture is of our competition-- the medicine man (or manor?) is apparently a big herbalist who can cure more sicknes ses. I'm not one to argue. But it does highlight the reliance on "country medicine"-- which is herbs, etc. that are eaten or applied to improve illness prior to coming to the JFK ("just for killing") hospital. So, by the time they get there, the question is raised as to whether the liver damage is from the original illness or the country medicine used to cure it...?
So anyway. The last 48 hours in-country were... interesting.
The last week there I had been asked to review some material for the Ministry of Health's supervisor training. It was actually a bit of a bigger project than I'd realized, but was able to complete some changes to their training manual in time for a brief talk on emergency care that Thursday morning (I mention this in the video of the medical side in the ER during my discussion with Deborah). It was suggested after that morning that I go do something fun in Monrovia, given that I'd spent a lot of time in the hospital while I was there. So I thought I'd go see one of the beaches that I'd been told should be relatively safe.
You see, some of the beaches in Monrovia, especially around the hospital, aren't all that secure and are known for their criminal activity. Kind of like alleys in the States, you really don't have any business being there, especially at night, especially alone. (Of course some private beaches that are patrolled are fine).
But, let's face it, I'd gotten kind of bored and was looking for something to do besides work. So, in the early afternoon of my penultimate day, I headed out to one of the beaches that was recommended as relatively safe. I wandered around the beach for a bit and was heading back when I was approached by a group of guys. There were about 6-8 of them, and they initially asked me a few questions in order to surround me. They started yelling and grabbing my arms, while two of them waved around broken bottles and one a pair of kitchen scissors (you know, the kind with the orange handles that your mom has laying around somewhere). They gave me a few cuts to make sure I wasn't going to try anything ("uhm, there are 7 of you-- I think you win today...") and took my wallet/money and my digital camera. Through the course of the encounter, it became pretty clear these guys weren't really all that dangerous, so I followed them a little bit and asked them to drop my wallet and id, which they did. It was kind of like in the Big Leibowski-- "Are these men going to hurt us, Walter?" "No, Donnie; these men are cowards."
After all that I called for the driver from the hospital to come get me. (My phone was in one of those "change" pockets that are sometimes in jeans or "travel pants" in the hip pockets..) So Mr. Moore, one of the drivers from the hospital, and one of the hospital's plain-clothes security guys (Frances I'm pretty sure) came. We eventually located the guys who took my money (they were still in the area apparently playing craps with a bunch of US bills. Yeah, not all that subtle).
We drove back to the police station to pick some of them up and took them back to the beach. I was in this way part of my very first Liberian stake-out. Which quickly became my very first Liberian foot-chase, as the guys' lookout recognized one of the plain-clothes cops and sounded the alarm. Everyone scattered and myself and the driver in the van went around to try to cut off escape routes while the police and hospital security guys (as well as Mr. Moore, who-- as those of you who've met him might have guessed-- loved every minute of it) chased them through the little alleyways.
Eventually we rounded up about 5 guys (the 6-7 on the beach became 12 or so when we found them again) and took them to the main police station. I identified the ones I could and filled out a statement. During this, of course, they were in the room, tied together with the tails of their t-shirts. "White Man-- look at my face! It wasn't me!"
Got back to the hospital, and fortunately since I know a good ER doc got taken care of. The next day, I was told my camera had been found. Apparently there are only a few people in that area of Monrovia who can fence a digital camera, so both were followed and the one arrested. Obviously this effort wouldn't have been put into things if I weren't part of the hospital where the administration is so connected to the President, so I'm grateful for that. So in any event I survived the experience and did a little more work that last morning before packing out. An interesting aside, when I got to Brussels I checked the photos on my camera. They include the following picture of the guys who stole the camera from me. I guess they took a few shots of themselves for posterity... ;)
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