I Comin’ for my 26th to da House-o!

Tomorrow is Liberia’s Independence Day, making her 163 years old, and the children in the community could hardly be more excited. Drums are beating and have been all day, and various dancers are putting on “cultural shows” – a mix between a dance competitions, beauty pageants, and ethnic festivals. For the last few days, I have heard this refrain over and over, “I comin’ to da house for my 26!” Admittedly, some children get a little confused and say, “I comin’ for my Christmas.” The Mayor told me all about the regular parades, dances, and candy giving sessions that are usually put on – except that this year the County Superintendent never sent the money to arrange anything. All of this put me in a predicament – what on earth would I do if Strongheart House was swarmed by small children demanding some sort of treat? Culturally, it’s as though the build up for Halloween had only one house that you could trick or treat at, and they didn’t know they were supposed to have something planned! I couldn’t very well scowl and send everyone away – nor did I foresee giving out clothes, copybooks, or money like some of the bolder ones had asked for... that would be chaotic and way out of budget.

So we’ve decided to run the generator during the day (a rare to never before event) to play music for a dance party in our yard … since our sound system will make it fun. Then, if the crowd is a manageable size, we’re going to pass around popcorn for a treat. Then at night if the clear weather holds, we’ll show a movie on the outdoor blow up big screen. Hopefully that strikes the happy medium. Perhaps I’ll even get someone to teach me the words to the national anthem, “O Hail, Liberia, Hail…”

Since I’m now more situated in our routine and since we won’t have Learning Circles tomorrow, this weekend has been a relaxed one, with more forays out into the community, which the anthropologist in me loves. I’m beginning to learn the names of many of the children in my neighborhood, which is made harder because almost everyone has a real name and a ‘play name’ – little Fred Weah goes by “Pastor”, and Rachel Nigmba is “Queen Girl” – and sometimes they don’t differentiate, so you have to say “Call your real name na, or your school name”. Alice Mensa even introduced herself to me as “Ugly” and so for two weeks I called her “Yong Girl” instead.

Pastor has had a string of sweethearts among volunteers and staff here at the Strongheart house, for a four year old he is already a ladies man with his doleful big eyes. When I had to go to Monrovia for a few days last week he wrote me a song that he sang repeatedly, “Diana gone, dats a sorrowful night” Except, since last consonants are often dropped in Liberian English, night sounds and awful lot like the ‘na’ in Diana… This joke has enabled me to finally get to know some of the women in the community, which is my ultimate aim, so I’ll play along!

It’s been really wonderful watching the Fellows grow into a community together too, Fitzgerald and Donnett are from two separate families but look like brothers – and have taken to razzing each other. Emmanuel has taken on the role of house barber, and he carefully bics down the boys hair whenever they feel like they’ve gotten too bushy. And whenever the sun shines we try and take an afternoon trip out to the ocean: Emmanuel and Adolphus are the strongest swimmers and take on the waves, Donnett and Gabriel usually wear life jackets but are slowly improving, and even Fitzgerald comes down and sits in the waves, although since he is blind he doesn’t want to venture further. The girls in the program usually come down to watch, and Mercy sometimes jumps in too, as long as she doesn’t have hair extensions in that she doesn’t want to spoil. When the kids in the community join us, and they often do, I feel a little bit like the pied piper… especially since the under 10s swim commando.

The Fellows are cooking tomorrow, and they’re really excited about a making a big bowl of Jollof rice. It’s one of my favorite dishes, a West-African version of fried rice or Spanish rice. I plan on making cinnamon rolls myself, which means I need to sign off and get working on the dough!