Invest West Africa

I've been in Monrovia, Liberia for about a week now, and I've done almost nothing. Oh true, I did spend four days milling about the Sierra Leone embassy trying to get a visa (it's amazing how quickly they'll process the paperwork after you fall asleep on the consul's couch waiting for a freakin' signature) and wrestling with ATMs (when only one bank controls all the cash machines in the city, the inefficiencies of West Africa become very apparent). I probably walked five miles a day trying to find a working machine while on a treasure hunt for the legendary Leonean visa.

Basically, Monrovia has been one big pit stop after eight weeks on the road. Now most would stop here and say, "Really Sterling? You chose a city that less than a decade ago was only somewhat controlled by Charles Taylor and a cavalcade of competing warlords?" Well, it's true. Monrovia has seen better days. At one point in time, Liberia was one of Africa's brightest stars. It was stable, with a strong, commodities-based economy, and an educated elite. However, that educated elite, almost all descended from American slaves repatriated to Africa, controlled all facets of life in the country. The great majority of indigenous people lived in grinding poverty. However, that all changed when one plucky young army officer named Samuel Doe decided to speak up for indigenous rights...by slaughtering most of the landed elites in government and installing himself as President. Gotta love the underdog.

The only problem with getting rid of everyone who knows how to run a country is...well...there's no one left to run the country! Doe tried to steer the ship of state for a while, not too effectively, and, before long, the country descended into a brutal 14-year civil war. Talk about landing on the rocks. And thus, Liberia became known to the rest of the world as "that jungle place in Africa where they're all killing eachother." Congo? "No, not that one." Angola? "No..." Libya? "Ya, something like that."

But the civil war ended over five years ago. Charles Taylor is being tried for war crimes in the Hague. One of the largest UN contingents ever deployed still has boots on the ground; the country's safe, secure, full of happy smiling people! Actually, dark humor aside, Liberia is probably one of the most refreshing countries I've visited in West Africa. Sure, Monrovia is in ruins, but they're rebuilding. There's a massive UN presence all throughout the country. There are more Bangladeshis and Nigerians here than in some parts of Nigeria and Bangladesh (especially in the unpopulated parts of those countries). Every car on the street seems to be driven by an aid or development organization. The major influx of capital in the form of volunteers, development workers, drivers, cars, and money has pushed prices sky-high for foreigners, as most of the secure hotels and restaurants cater exclusively to outsiders and wealthy Liberians. Americo-Liberians who fled during the conflict, however, are returning and bringing a lot of their own wealth back with them.

One can only hope that with the influx of services catering to a wealthier clientele (you wouldn't think development and UN personnel would rank among the wealthiest people in a country would you? Try coming to Africa sometime) that basic services will return to average Liberians. The money doesn't look like it stands much chance of trickling down, but promising signs can be seen in new roads and renovations to buildings that are nothing more than a burnt out shell after 14 years of fighting.

Walking through Monrovia, it's impossible not to notice these hulking monstrosities all over the city: collapsed cement housing, broken high-rises, and once elegant, beach-side homes torn by bullet-holes and neglect. The most impressive of these former glories is the old Ducor Hotel. At it's height in the 70s, it was a five-star hotel, catering to dignitaries both famous and infamous, including Sekou Toure and Idi Amin. From it's perch on Mamba Point, it overlooks the Atlantic on three sides with a view encompassing all of Monrovia on the fourth. It was, in its hey-day, the shining achievement of unadulterated excess and one of Africa's best hotels. But then the war came. So it goes. When it ended and the new owners (a Libyan conglomerate which has bought up and renovated some of the best hotels in West Africa) cleared the building, they threw out over 350 families who were squatting in the ravaged wreck. I don't know where those families went, but it's most likely they took up residence in some other abandoned building in Monrovia (there are plenty to choose from) or moved down into the slums along the beach. As opposed to the rest of the world, beach front property in Monrovia is a poor man's domain. The wealthy tend to stay at home behind their ten foot-high concrete walls and concertina wire.

One would think that the poverty, inequalities, and wreckage would overwhelm the population, but I've found Liberians to be the most hopeful people I've yet encountered in West Africa. They elected Africa's first woman president four years ago, and most still stand behind her. The legacy of corruption and graft in the country is hard to overcome, but she's trying. The refrain among all the people I've met is that they were just tired of fighting. After 14 years, there were many who knew nothing other than violence. They just wanted it to end. Even now, with all the problems, the average Liberian seems reticent to complain, the ghosts of the past still too near. As a result, they're remarkably hopeful. Whereas many in Niger didn't have much faith in the democratic process, here they're looking to America and putting their faith in the ability to overcome their own history.

One of the other remarks I've heard again and again is that I'm the only independent traveler anyone has met in Liberia. Everyone asks what my "mission" here is. Am I a Volunteer? Aid worker? Development professional? UN worker? Liberians and expats, the Lebanese community and every other white person I've met: all are amazed that I decided to come here and see this country. Why do you travel? To see new places, meet new people, and then take back those experiences to the US. And then, when you get back, you'll write a book about our country. Well maybe, but that's too far in the future to tell. For right now, I'm just keeping a blog.

And then the most important, most vital thought I've heard from more than one Liberian on more than one occasion: And you'll be able to tell people that they should come back to Liberia. That we need them. We're a safe country now. We're stable. We're trying to recover and we need people to visit. We need people to see us as more than a war, as more than refugees and amputees. We need people to see us as human again.

I only hope this helps.