Living conditions

Some of you have wanted me to describe more of what kind of conditions I find myself living in. The international volunteers (there are also Liberian refugee volunteers) are housed in “guest houses” 2 to a room, with a common room and kitchen. There is one toilet that uses a flush bucket system (you use the toilet as normal, but must pour a bucket of water down it to flush out the contents) and a bucket shower, which is actually not too bad when it’s hot out. It’s actually amazing how little water you really need to get clean when you do it this way and makes me think about how much water we waste at home. To my surprise, the guesthouse has intermittent electricity, but we mainly resort to candles and flashlights. Despite our efforts to keep things clean, we are joined by mice and African insects of varying colors and shapes, many of which would require a small firearm to kill, so we end up co-existing.

Sleeping. The bed I sleep has a mattress thinner than a good down comforter which lies over not really a bed but a suspension bridge of randomly positioned wooden slats that leave wide spaces for your flesh to fall through. The trick is to position yourself so that the planks hit you in the least uncomfortable way possible. It can also be quite hot at night. But the biggest challenge to sleeping is the camp loudspeakers which are positioned just outside my window. Music and announcements (some of which I’ll have to dedicate another entry to) start at 5 AM. Now, I am light sleeper to begin with but I am not exaggerating when I say that these speakers are so loud that my earplugs are rendered powerless and I have to shout to my roommate who is only 5 feet away. At times they play the most bizarre musical selections – like lullabies in the morning – on a loop. Seriously, the song finishes and then starts up right again. We all pull out our hair and plan ways to sabotage the speakers. I actually read somewhere that this is how they torture prisoners in Guantanomo Bay. They play the same song at a high decibel over and over until the prisoners crack. But I know it serves a purpose too. People here generally rise with the sun and many don’t have radios or a reliable way to get news. It also reinforces the differences in our ideas of private and communal space.

Neighbors. The “neighborhood” kids are constantly looking in our windows and doors and calling our names. We live in a kind of détente with these kids. The veteran volunteers have no qualms about yelling at them and shooing them away – which appears kind of cruel at first, but seems to have evolved out of necessity. We actually really like these kids and play with them, but they don’t give us a moment’s rest, so we have to reinforce boundaries.

Food. There is a local refugee who we employ as a cook. Breakfast is always eggs (boiled or fried) and porridge, and lunch is almost always rice with some kind of vegetable stew and chicken wings. We eat leftover lunch for dinner or try our luck at one of the stalls around camp. Considering the state of our bathrooms, I’m trying to stay away from anything that might make me sick, but I know that in 3 months it is likely inevitable.

As different as these conditions are from home, they are far better than those of most of the refugees, so I am loath to complain. Actually, the adjustment hasn’t been that difficult. My mosquito net provides at least psychological protection from nightly insect invasions, and I’m actually enjoying the bucket shower system. Plus, I’m sharing these quarters with some really wonderful people from all over the world, so there are also advantages.

Thanks for all of your emails – it makes me feel closer to home to get your messages