Unadjustment is a 7 day process…

I’ll be the first to admit, I was dreading the return to Liberia just a bit.  Afterall, I had been eating and drinking quite comfortably in the 1st world.  From the best dining experience I’ve ever had at Pierre Gagnaire in Paris, to the hole in the wall Mexican joint in Vegas (oh yes, and Nobu in Vegas for super good Kobe beef and sushi) and everything in between, I had been fattening up quite nicely during my leave time.  But, as I flew over Liberia and was reminded of the beauty of it, I began to relax a bit.  Then, I actually walked into a terminal complete with immigration booth and a conveyor belt for luggage! I thought, “things are looking up here.”  This alone was leaps and bounds better than my past two experiences of flying into the country.  And to top it all off, Corrie picked me up and told me funny stories of what had gone on while I was gone.  We laughed and joked so much all of the way home that I didn’t notice the people run in front of the car. It wasn’t until we were actually in Monrovia that I started noticing her quick breaking skills as she repeatedly maneuvered around taxis stopping to let people off – never using a blinker or break lights, of course.  These were just things on my mind’s periphery.  That’s when I realized that because I wasn’t really paying attention to them, I was still used to them.  Nothing had changed.  I was, in a word, home. 

Once I got to my house, Jen greeted me with chipper hellos.  I relaxed on that first night home with watching a horror film and drinking a couple of beers.  All in all, I was comfortable.  The house was clean, the electricity stayed on, and with the exception of a few ants here and there (including the 1st of many that I would find on my toothbrush) everything seemed normal.  I even remembered not to brush my teeth with the tap water.  I was doing pretty good.

The only thing vaguely abnormal was how tired I was.  Tired enough that although I had gone to bed at 11PM on Friday, I didn’t wake up until noon on Saturday.  I did have one moment where I woke up when the A/C came back on and thought to myself (because I had only vaguely realized it was off) that “hmm… the power must have come back on early.”  Even that happy little thought filled me with comfort.  (In reality the power was probably off for the full two hours but I just had slept through it.) 

On Saturday I received a call that my office was doing another train trip to Bong Mines and my presence was required.  After confirming that the trip was mandatory, I resigned myself to going.  On Sunday I grabbed a book and headed to the train station.  I drank half of a beer in the morning and a bit of water before reminding myself that I shouldn’t overdo it.  I wouldn’t be able to use a bathroom for 2 1/2 or 3 hours.  I really wasn’t so perky as to actually want to run into the bush to relieve myself.  We finally made it to the mines.  I had done a fairly good job of dehydrating myself, but, alas, a bathroom was required.  Having been there before, I left the train (this trip no drummers, lunch was served by the train.  Again, fantastic Pakistani food – cheered me up to no end) and headed to the Nigerian compound.  After greeting the guards at the gate I started walking towards the bathroom.  I was hailed by another Nigerian who asked me where I was going.  I said to the bathroom and kept walking.  He again got my attention and told me that I needed to walk behind the building.  I said I’d been there before and knew there was a bathroom in the building.  His response was “it’s broke.”  So, off I went around the building.  I think the pictures say it best.  When I first looked at it (and in it) I thought “this can’t be it” and walked around looking for it.  There was a guy outside doing his laundry so I asked him if that was the bathroom.  He confirmed it was.  So now the question was, which one to use?  I walked to the last “stall” but found that when I squatted down (pants on – testing things out) I could see out through quite a wide crack where the two pieces of sheet metal met.  So, I went to the middle stall and hoped that no one suddenly had to answer the call of nature.  Not expecting to be thrown this kind of experience a day and a half after returning was a bit dis-heartening, but, I had planned ahead and brought tissues with me, so, all was not lost.  Except that I hadn’t planned quite far enough ahead to have remembered hand sanitizer. 

Monday was as to be expected.  I walked into work amongst the kissing noises the Liberians make when they want to get your attention, the shouts of “hey, American!” and “American soldier.”  At work I slowly sifted through the hundreds of emails and began to get some work done.  Then, home.  All was going well at home – I had a glass of 1 month old white wine in hand (it had been in the fridge – wasn’t so bad), had been studying German, and had even eaten some tasty Thai noodles that Zeyn and Jer sent to me last month until… the cockroach.  I don’t know if I wrote about my last large cockroach experience.  I found one in our kitchen a few months ago and immediately began spraying it.  I chased him all over the kitchen for what I’m sure was a half can of bug spray.  He never slowed down, he never died, he just kept running.  I stopped when he escaped under the fridge.  I don’t know who inhaled more spray, him or me.  So, when I saw this cockroach resting on a shelf in the living room I thought to myself, “I can chase him down with a can of spray which hasn’t worked in the past, grab a shoe and try to squash him – but I hate the crack of the shell and the guts everywhere, or I can just let him be.  I think he’s happy, I’m happy forgetting about him, it’s a win-win.”  So, I left him alone. 

Tuesday morning found me washing the trail of ants off the wall in the bathtub and putting my toothbrush and toothpaste in a cup vice laying them on the mirror ledge.  A girl can really only take so many ants on the toothbrush.  Tuesday night I had one of the more bizarre conversations I’ve had, ever, with Jen.  The scene is set over the stove in our kitchen as she is heating up water (which she got from the tap) to cook up her Top Ramen.  Me: “Um, I don’t know if you noticed, but your water is brown.”  Jen (in wonder): “yeah… it is…”  Me: “Um… there’s bottled water…”  Jen: “Isn’t it weird how brown it is?”  Me: “Um… yeah.  Uh, bottled water is pretty cheap.”  Jen: “yeah… it’s brown.”  Okay, at this point I left.  I later found out that she was just using it to cook her noodles and then she strained them.  I had used tap water as well to boil my noodles but, it was clear and I boiled the water for 7 or 8 minutes before cooking my noodles and then I strained them and washed them with bottled water.  To me, that was living on the edge.  A sign of my new comfort zone.  I don’t think I’ll do that again.

The unravelling of my comfort level came last night when I got home.  My plan was a glass of wine and German studying.  So, I went to my room, grabbed my laptop and opened it up… That’s when I saw them.  20 – 30 ants crawling all in and around the keyboard.  Ugh.  It was on my bed so I quickly put it on my floor and started killing ants.  Once I felt I was successful, I put it back on my bed.  I think I probably killed 50+ by the time all was said and done.  I had even turned it upside down and started hitting the bottom to get the last ones.  Of course, I had managed to smear a few of them on my sheets so those had to get washed.  In my paranoid mind I also pictured some of them finding their way to my brown cover.  So, I washed that too.  As there was no trail, I have no idea where they came from.  Later that night I realized that I had a large duty free bag standing upright on the floor.  Although it had chocolate in it, it was all packaged.  Plus, the bag was pretty solid plastic, what’s the probability… Well, the probability was actually quite high.  I lost one rum filled candy bar but, I believe, salvaged the rest.  At this point I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the spray.  I found a trail and sprayed and sprayed.  I decided that when I started coughing I had probably sprayed enough.  The ants led to last night’s dreams of bugs crawling here and there and everywhere…

It is funny to me that when I arrived just  one week ago I was comfortable with the ants.  I expected them here and there and wasn’t surprised to see them.  I was also impressed with my calm handling (or non-handling as the case may be) of the cockroach.  Now, however, it’s war.  I am also at war with the small baby spider like insects which have popped up here and there.  I’ll admit that I’m a little nervous to go home today.  One never knows what one is going to find crawling on the floor, in the showers, on the kitchen counters or even in your laptop.  Who knew that it was actually possible to “unadjust” to a place…