I like to wake up in a city that never sleeps.

Went to New York to celebrate my birthday together with my sister. Exploring New York was a birthday gift we gave ourselves. Never been to New York so everything is new and exciting. Entering the country is already an adventure.

Queuing in front of the immigration was a chaotic experience. The female “Jackie Chan” immigration officer was shouting to the new arrivals to queue in line. She was juggling with those big cables marking the lines like a Kung-Fu martial art expert to direct people to the immigration booths. Although there were enough booths to accommodate the new arrivals, still there were not enough immigration officers to facilitate the immigration procedures. There we were standing in front of an empty booth and waiting for the immigration officer. After 15 minutes, finally a man came with a sandwich in one hand and in the other his cell phone. Went inside the booth for 5 minutes and was called away. Another 10 minutes passed before another immigration officer came. He scanned my eyes and asked where I am from. Already agitated from waiting I answered from the Netherlands and nodded towards my passport. He looked at me and stamped my passport with a sigh and said “welcome to America” as if I want to obtain a green card and a Permanent Resident Permit on his expense.

The luggage band conveyor was disappointing and very cramped. You have to be greased as lightning in getting your luggage off the conveyor otherwise you will domino down other passengers on your way. The other service is you have to pay for the trolley as well. In Amsterdam Schiphol, the conveyors are spacious and the trolleys are free. It is one of the most modern and customer friendly International Airports in the world. Thank you!

We took the Yellow Cab to NYC in style. Yellow cabs are cool and the taxi driver talkative like in movies. The ride to the centre of New York was a revelation. The taxi driver thought he was Schumacher. The way he serpentine through the cars and busses was a true death wish. He took a shortcut; at least that is what he told us. Between crisscrossing, he asked if we were from the Caribbean. I wanted to reply in my best Jamaican accent but my sista already sensed my need for unsolicited acting and replied quickly, “from the Netherlands”.
We passed Flushing Meadows on the right and catch a glimpse of Queens before Manhattan appears in front of us. Welcome to New York, the Big Apple said the taxi driver.

We stayed at Morgans, a minimalist boutique hotel in Madison Avenue with only a few blocks away from the Chrysler building and the Grand Central Station.
The hotel was famous for its eye-catching "Essher" carpet in the lobby.
A good-looking bellboy assisted us with the luggage and gave me the most perfect smile from ear to ear when I gave him a royal tip. Money talks different languages and if I need his assistance just call for Marc, wink wink…

Our first night we explored Times Square. I ate this amazing big chunky kebab sandwich with pickles in one of those outdoor mobile kebab stands on the street. After Liberian standards of street food stands, this was entering the Promised Land.

Times Square is a sea of neon billboards and tourists. The big screen is a bit smaller than on television but that could not spoil the image I had of Times Square. The variety of foreign languages on one square meter were like peas in a jar. MTV Studio, Hard Rock Café, Planet Hollywood and Radio City all the American “icons” of fast food and entertainment, its all here. The 24/7 drugstore is like the department store home. On the way to New York, I bought myself the new digital mirror reflex 10.2 mega-pixel camera, Sony Alpha at Schiphol. An analogue camera could not store the amount of pictures I took from Times Square that night.
Catching a taxi back was a nightmare. We decided to walk and walked and… walked. Few blocks away transformed into the Kingdom of Far… Far away. Remember Shrek II “Are we there yet”. Yep, that’s us … and this was only day one.

When 9/11 happened I was in Jakarta, a colleague woke me up early in the morning with the news of America attacked by terrorists. We saw on CNN a plane crashed in to the Twin Tower and experienced at close range the panic of our American colleagues who had family and friends living in New York.
I was surprisingly not impressed by Ground Zero itself. The location is a construction site marking the empty spot where Twin Towers used to dominate the skyline. I was more touched by the exhibition of grief and courage that was outlined in the nearby church. The loss of so many men, women and children were tangible throughout letters, pictures, and miles of origami cranes, wall carpets and other items expressing grief, loss, courage and above all forgiveness.
In this church, I saw the impact 9/11 had on the world. The world send out its message of support and grief in so many different ways.

A big ball made of woollen threads and fabrics connecting each student of all the schools in Alaska in support to the victims and all of those courageous men and women giving their life for another life. Some one wrote: Lost, a twin at the World Trade Centre. You can rebuild another Twin Tower but you can never rebuild lives lost in this outrage of extreme hate.

In life, there is space for sadness and cheer. Close to the WTC was Century 21, thank you Kamini for the tip, a department store with clothes, shoes, interior, luggage, books and many many other things as far as the eye and your wallet can reach. The ultimate Sale Walhalla for shopping addicts like me. Just keep your plastic ready and space in your suitcase or if worse come to worse you just buy a new set of suitcases like my sister did.

As tourists, we did the touristy things. An open city bus tour brought us to the places packed with tourists and long queues. Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building are the must-see landmarks in the NYC tourist agenda. We went to the Empire State Building to see New York by night. The Empire State Building was a test of endurance for me. Not the queue but the security is too annoying although my sister and the security had a blast. Just bought a new pair of jeans and need to wear a belt otherwise it will fall off my but with each step I take. The jackass of a security officer made me go through the metal detector gate twice and had to take off my rings, bag and my belt. He “asked” me friendly to put my hands in the air. I told him my pants will drop when I do that. No mercy! There I was doing this stupid movement with one hand in the air and the other one holding up my pants and in reverse feeling like doing a forced idiotic disco move. The audience, my sister and the other security stooges, were applauding for my one-woman show. It took 86 stories high with the elevator before I allow myself to recover from this free candid camera show.
In case my jeans will drop, at least I wear designer’s underpants that costs more than the stooges make in a month for being a pathetic security guard. Hahaaaaa…Freak’n Bastards!!

The architecture of NYC is beautiful. Flat Iron building is my all time favourite building in New York. In real, it is more impressive than I can imagine. How does it feel to live in the corner triangle apartment on the top-floor? Must be breathtaking and breathtaking expensive too. Passed by the United Nations building, did not met Kofi; he was out for lunch at Starbucks. Brooklyn Bridge, MacD’s, Rockefeller Centre and the Metropolitan Museum of Art (shop) just great.

I can picture myself living in one of those lofts in Tribeca or China Town. I am charmed by the pattern of walls renovated in brown reddish coloured bricks with black diagonal metal staircases unintentionally emphasizing the design of the structure. Dreams are free and until that moment, my home village is not bad at all and there is no place like home.

Talking about home, after a short week of indulging activities we were on our way home. Almost missed the flight because of Century 21, getting a taxi horror, traffic jam and security -again- belt and toothpaste / fluids in hand luggage restrictions and regulations. In Amsterdam, no hassle at the immigration, luggage belt conveyor and no belt control.


Sinatra knew what he sang. I like to wake up in a city that never sleeps too.

HAPPY BIPTHDAY

In September we, my sister and I, spent a long weekend with the family in our family “country cottage” in beautiful Mechelen.
Mechelen is a picturesque little city down south in the Province of Limburg where we will celebrate our birthdays (my sister and I we were born on the same day but no the same year) together. It was the first time in 5 years that we decided to be in the same country to celebrate our birthdays. After a detour, a forced pre-birthday gift to show me the countryside I have missed for such a long time, I have a very creative family, we finally arrived in Mechelen (with CH).

My family was excited and at the same time an underneath emotion was waiting like a Jack in the box. The absence of my first of sisters was tangible. Especially for my brothers and sisters because they’ve spent the weekend before she passed away in the same cottage. It would be the first time after her departure that the family would spend time together as such. Me, I was sad and missing her immensely.

The summer almost reached its end but the weather was warm for the time of the year. The outdoor café’s was fully occupied until the midnight hours and we shopped until we dropped. The weekend was great and so is the family. My family has the ability to freak you out with their strong personalities and make you laugh until you cannot stand on your two feet. We stayed up until late, playing our favo games (hmpffff…..), sharing food and wine, watching Sumo wrestling together and of course heated discussions as we always do when we’re around each other.

On my birthday at midnight I found myself sulking under the walnut tree in the backyard when everyone came and wished me and my sister Happy Birthday. By the way she was not sulking under the walnut tree. I always feel uncomfortable when everyone is wishing me happy birthday. In this setting it was mixed emotions that contributed to my bad birthday mood. Another year added and other things running through my head.

That night I went to bed early but woke up later that night when everyone was vast asleep. I sneaked downstairs and find the living room decorated with balloons and ribbons. So sweet, they even found balloons with Happy Birthday written in Indonesian and in the Happy Birthday garland the leg of the R in Birthday was missing.

HAPPY BIPTHDAY….. so cute!

Looked for the "bipthday" presents but could not find it. I went back to bed, woke up in the morning and needed to control my laughter and act surprisingly surprised. Okay it didn’t work out that well. It’s hard to keep a straight face when you see Happy Bipthday in the early morning.

Our birthday present contains a book about New York City and hard cash to spent on shopping, resto’s and other indulging activities we planned to do. New York City was the next destination in our celebration program. It’s our first time in New York and its fun to play Chris Columbus in NYC together.

Thanks for the Bipthday weekend.

Silences of the lambs.

Every night before I turn in I smoke my last cigarette of the day on my balcony over looking the cross section where only an hour ago was crowded with people of all ages. The buzzing sound of the UNMIL generator replaced the loud voices of young men and only a few people are making their way to their destination for tonight.
When it’s time for Harper to sleep, the streets are empty and deserted. It’s the time I like Harper the best.
My shadow is dancing on the white painted wall behind me with every move towards the ashtray. I decided to light up another cigarette and enjoy the quiet of the night. From my balcony I look down at little shelters, badly lit with oil lamps and wonder how it must be to look up and see this person smoking her third cigarette in the dark.

Every night the same ritual takes over the streets of Harper. Out of every dark corner of the war destroyed ruin’s the exodus of sheep’s start. With hardly making any sound they move towards the centre of the crossing and assemble like a secret society in their white, black stained thin woollen fury coats. There is no sheep leader and it seems like every sheep has the same rights and privileges in this midnight gathering. They will stand until all members have arrived. After a few minutes they all will lie down at the same time as if the meeting was opened. Now and then a sheep will raise it’s voice and another sheep answers. Neither sequence nor structure was used in this solitaire communication. One time I noticed that one sheep looked up and locates this strange entity on the balcony surrounded by a mysterious cloud. Our eyes actually met in the dark. That moment I felt like an intruder sneaking inside their ‘sheep mason society” and being caught in a Da Vinci Code suspense.

I have been witnessing this phenomenon for quiet some time and could not find a reasonable explanation. Why, in the centre of the street when there are enough ruin’s to protect one selves from the cold at night. The local population were not cooperative in providing answers to my inquiries and in most cases people gave me strange looks whenever I mention this extraordinary.

From my balcony I became a full-participated member of my street image. Every night I am standing like Evita Peron at the balcony of my own Liberian Casa Rosada. Don’t cry for me Liberia with a herd of sheep’s as silent witnesses of my balcony scene. They kept their promise; I’ll keep my distance.

Harper Real Estate

Since I moved into the new “Uptown” guesthouse I have not shared any images of my new Apartment.
Actually there is nothing great to be sharing about. To give you an impression: During heavy rainfall we will be provided a free indoor swimming pool Olympic size. Not to mention the kitchen sink thinking it is a pond with a cascade because the water cannot be drained.
Welcome to Harper where plumbers and “technicians” violating basic human rights by not doing their job ehhhh...... well paid job.

Currently my room is occupied by a colleague who is on a stand-by list to be “EVACUATED” to another place of his choice.
I was away for one month and he moved into the room (with my knowledge) until his renovation will be finished. You might have guessed that Real Estate in Liberia has not the same kind of entry point like the West. Of Europe of course.
In the meantime I am temporary accommodated across my room to be. My door handle is a suicide weapon unintentionally and cannot be locked from the inside. Security security!!!!!

I am not complaining only anxiously waiting to get unpacked.

Rainy day in Harper the weather is cool but damp a great day to walk around and to take photographs.
After a Saturday of depressive DVD’s (Alone in the dark, Home at the end of the world and Ocean’s 12) and ceiling staring until the ceiling almost lost its paint it’s time to take control of life.

Love to walk on a Sunday especially because everyone is going to church. Quiet and peaceful as a Sunday should be. Harper is a city that could be the decor of Savannah after the civil war. The structures are beautiful and even now it has been looted and destroyed but still you can discover a glimpse of the Souterhn Belle.

Gone with the wind. Some locations have stunning views on the ocean. If was George Weah I would open a hotel in Harper especially with the amount of international NGO and UNMIL employees.
It is not always romantic “Gone With The Wind” but more a reality check on structures. “ Gone with the walls, roof and other constructions that makes a house a house. Still you can rent these structures. For rent..... can you imagine the quality of real REAL ESTATE in Harper? It is hilarious and great for pictures.

Visited the Free Masons House and went all the way to the top overlooking Harper and Devils Point.
Remaining of a grandeur era is still breathing inside the structure. Greek pillars with Ionic and Doric decoration. A rich colourful mosaic still intact on the front wall decorated with Freemason equipment and the sun covering the whole length of the building.
The grandmaster room with a view on top of the building with four floors emphasizing the east, west, north and south. Illuminati atmosphere crossed my mind while looking over hazy Harper. Two long metal spikes with the Freemason symbols functioning as sun catchers on a sunny day.

Across from the Free Mason House is the house that used to be the home of President Tubman.
The interior used to be amazing. Marble winding staircases, fragments of late twenties hand printed wallpaper and heavy damaged wooden panels remaining of rich decorative walls.
The tiles in the kitchen are still intact and it looks even better than the ones in our guesthouse. A giant vault is situated in the cellar (it was dark and I was alone with some guys so did not go there) unopened. They think there might be some gold bars or other valuables inside waiting to be released from captivity. Until now no-one knows how to open, so like Indiana Jones!
A deck on top of this 3 stories high mansion overlooking Harper 360°. Stunning!!

Now it is the house of approximately 30 returnee families or maybe even more.

The Navy owns it.
I was sitting in this ruin overlooking the beach, bay, waves and the distant ocean.

It was a good day. I went home put on the music that I have been downloading on my I-Pod and started to do ceiling staring again but this time the paint did not came off.

Real Estate in Harper might be healing at times.

An Empty Ribbon

The Leatherback Turtle returns home for life significant reason or in this case a bereavement significant reason.

My journey home was paved with a deep intense sadness and it seems like every step only brings me further away from home.
Three days of travelling lasted like three years and every minute lasted like a never-ending hallway in a lost but never found.

That morning I received a phone call at my office desk in Harper. I was in the middle of preparing transportation to support road rehab.
Never entered my mind that the office is going to arrange my own transportation that same morning to the Netherlands.

My sister was on the other end of the line. Her voice already told me even before she could tell me. Imagine yourself in a quicksand sucking you down in a dark suffocating negative spiral and the sand closes down all the light above you. You try to breath, cry and control yourself all at the same time while the words handcuffed your fists of anger and strangles tight around your lungs pressing all the oxygen you have left to endure the moments ahead of you.
How cruel is life when you receive this message and realizing the distance between those you need and those who needs you.
How more cruelty can life bear when you have to deliver the message of mortality knowing it will cause an instant pain beyond ones imagination.

The impact of these simple words "zij is er niet meer”, (she's not there) rises above everything and covered your existence with a cloth of darkness. Darkness that will remain until .......... who knows when? Simple words put together in one sentence emphasizing an unthinkable future without her, my first of sisters.
Mortality revealed a hidden cruel dimension of the word PAIN and LOSS.

Travelled home, home where sadness and family were waiting together for my return.
Strong enough to travel and strong enough to fool myself thinking I’m strong enough to stop the rain from cascading down. Waterfalls of tears challenging my strength not to fall in pieces. Tears constantly raining inside my head hiding behind a facade of a soft summer breeze. Satanic dilemma between fiction and non-fiction.
In and out planes travelling light. People all around and yet isolated in grief.
Harper - Monrovia - Accra – Amsterdam - Vaassen. Destination reality!

When I left Harper a colleague told me to take courage. I took courage and spoke on her funeral on behalf of my family.
Amazed myself with the calmness of the same summer breeze that took me home.
In the speech I referred to the moment when I ordered the floral arrangement for her wooden carrier. Orchids were her favourite.
There were two ribbons attached to the floral arrangement. One ribbon with the inscription: “dari Adik-adik mu” from your younger siblings.
The other was empty. The florist asked if we want to inscribe some ordinairy tomb graffiti such as “Rest In Peace”.

None of that. The ribbon was too short and words were not enough to express our loss and above all our un-conditional love. Only the emptiness of the ribbon can emphasized the emptiness she left behind.

Clothing Exhibition

Unusual to some countries in the world but in Liberia it is a common practice. Everywhere you can you will notice washing hanging in the most unusual places and in strange positions. What is the strategy behind this phenomenon in clothing exposure?

What can be considered as the main reason for this free exhibition of vetements personelle? Surely one of the main reasons behind this exposure of newly washed clothes is the use of a natural source of warmth called sun. The idea of washing clothes is to wear clean clothes so why not dry them in a more secure and less exposed environment.

It is even possible to find the complete family closets lying on the pavement. Newly washed clothes on dirty pavements where approximately a hundred pair of feet or even more have walked on before the clothing exhibition was opened to public. Pedestrians have to serpentine their way through this free exhibition. Hanging, lying, drying just name it, every possible layout has been exercised and many more to come. I have never seen a Grand National exposure of clothing as in Liberia. Used clothing provided by the West to help out the needy has become an income generating activity in Liberia. In modern uptown jargon it is called VINTAGE. In Liberia it's cash.

What happened with those wide serene looking green meadows, kilometers of freshly clean clothes while the wind gently dances with every clean piece? Picture a family happy in white clean clothes, family looks happy and of course the detergent multi national happy. What might be an ideal image for a fancy detergent advertisement but not applicable in Liberia.

Detergent brands are expensive and is not always in the reach of the common people. Products of soap making activities provide an affordable substitute in the washing process. After observing the wash lay-out of Liberia in an environment of dust and mud I'm still amazed that clothes do look clean.

Sushi's and Sparkling Champagne

On wednesday it's Sayonara Harper.

Besides the "FUN" of preparation and presentation of Field Office Harper Community Empowerment Projects 2204/2005 in BO Monrovia the other additional Fun will be: " Sunday Brunch at the Royal or at the Mamba Point Hotel". I can not explain but it feels like walking around in the desert with miles of the unknown and finally meet your "FATA MORGANA" for real. DRAMA QUEEN maybe but those of you who have experienced the Jakarta Sunday Brunches SAY MY NAME!

Miss my Sunday Brunches at the Intercontinental Jakarta and the Mulia at Senayan. Sunday Brunch was the Occasion of the Sunday. The food was superb and the diversity of choices was fresh and ex cuise.
A starter as always Sushi, Fusion rolls, Oysters with a dash of freshly squeezed lime and the variety of Salmon. Main course a Fresh Salad, Pasta, Roast Beef grilled just the way you like it with a rich Dijon Mustard sauce. Bread, Foreign Delicate Fromages and Chocolate Desserts and more at the end. Sunday Brunch became a tradition we couldn't resist and why should you if you had the choice between a Rolls and an Eastern-European car before the Berlin Wall was taken down. No arguments.

Making reservations for a Sunday Brunch was much more easier than queuing at Mc-Supersize-D. Even the hotel reservation staff recognized our voice over the telephone and the deal was made and a table was always available.

Our, me and my Dutch now UNMIL but previously UNICEF Jakarta staff "partner in crime" also currently working in Liberia (small world), our promotion campagne for Champagne was in-famous and notorious.

Once the restaurant thought that we were "not on speaking terms" since we made our reservations separately for the same Sunday. They expressed their sincere concern and asked why the separation for the Sunday Brunch. That Sunday we joint our party’s and made a reservation with 25 friends and their friends friends and confiscated the largest tables with the sofa's under the mirrored walls.

Not only the food but also the free flow sparkling champagne was very extreme highly appreciated by us regular clientele. Can you imagine free sparkling bubbles from 11.30 am to 3pm and one time even until 10pm (with additional costs of course) because of the cozy atmosphere; in-depth conversations and other heart to heart liaisons were too much fun to waste.

Some one told me once that: “Time is not wasted when you're wasted all the time". We were always allowed by the gérant to have a peek in the stock of the Sunday Brunch's quota. The waiters had at least two extra bottles after Brunch Hours available for our party. I tell you...... the staff in the InterCon already knew us and provided us with all the égards and assistance. We were regulars. In Holland we say: KIND AAN HUIS.

At the Mulia Hotel in Jakarta it's even crazier, B52's and the amazing CHOCLATINI's. Free chocolate martini's (shaken not stirred) with a chocolate ring on the glass. SWEETTT........... All you can drink is actually all you can absorb some people even imagined them selves as sponges and absorbe, absorbe and absorbe. We had some hilarious encounters with choclatini's and B52's. Sunday Brunch in Jakarta (miss my city and my apartment).

Present time in Monrovia/Liberia the Sunday Brunch is small- small. Every week you can try the Lebanese, Chinese or Indian Sunday Brunch cuisine at the Mamba Point Hotel. The Royal is more general in their Sunday Brunch display. But Free flow..........Ice Lemon Tea and fresh fruit juice from a carton. All you can drink does not have the same point of entry like Free Flow Champagne in Jakarta. The venue for the Royal Hotel Sunday Brunch is named after Elvis Presley's crooner "Heart Break Hotel". Yep....Hartbreaking it is but for Liberian Sunday Brunch Standards its better than nothing. Good to know about the wireless internet connection that is available in both venue's.

Close to the Royal they just opened a Sushi resto. Yes, Liberia has it's own first official Sushi Resto. Might as well drop by and check out the raw fish and bubbly "Beluga" eggs next weekend.

Life will never be the same after you experienced Sushi and Sparkling Champagne in Jakarta.

Pictures used for this article are from INTERCONTINENTAL HOTEL JAKARTA, thank you guys for regular sending me invitations to attend your cuisine, cigar and wine activities and torture me with this bitter sweet.

Woord- en beeldmateriaal zijn beschermd onder copyrights of OHOIRA PRODUCTIONS © tenzij anders vermeld.

Clear as Mud

The morning of departure to Harper started at 8am. Leaving early means n'sync with the finals of the African Cup of Nations. Wishful thinking.

The first part we managed to pass after the truck was pushed away by a shovel. Our drivers assessed the situation and decided to move on. We saw, we took and we conquered. It was a muddy piece of cake.

The second part was destructive between Karloken and Pleebo, two of our three cars (mine included) got stuck and was sucked into the mud. No movement at all, the wheel kept on spinning, you can smell the burned rubber. In a fancy Spa customers pay a lot of money to be covered by mud. In Liberia being stuck in the mud for more than 2 hours is not the kind of mud treatment I like to pay for.

The road conditions covered our African Cup of Nations plans with MUD.

I was held "hostage" for 2 hours (okay I had AC, music, my Mac and enough food for another 4 hours) before a piece of timber released me from my comfortable air-conditioned "prison cell". A carpenter was passing by with a piece of timber. I persuade him to use the timber to bridge the distance from the car to the dry side of the road. Everybody advised me not to do it, the combination of me and the timber doesn't look too sturdy according to them, but there is no way I'm going to risk my white trousers in that mud. Just love my trousers too much. Indiana Jones eat your heart out, It was shaky but managed to cross.

We had to walk for another half an hour to pass another bad spot before getting rescued by another UNHCR and an UNMIL car (MOSS compliance). People are people and the creative ones use other people's "misery" to create income generating activities. Some women started a basic kitchen camp along the side of the road selling food to people who are stranded because of the horrific road conditions. If the road conditions are not improving in coming weeks than a whole new village will be established on that spot. Just mark my words!

We waited for our rescue vehicles in a nearby village. A woman hosted us in her front yard under the cool shade of a tree. I took some pictures of her kids in the backyard while they were preparing food. Bought the woman's home made fried banana chips and distributed among her children. News travels fast and in no-time other children came and there I was doing "small-small food-distribution" to cute little kids. So sweet!!

In the meantime the African Cup of Nations already started, we followed the game over the radio. I closed my eyes and took a nap. My colleagues woke me up when the rescue team came; I continued my nap in the vehicle.

We arrived in Harper in the dark. Egypt won the Cup of Nations and my co-stranded UNMIL colleague lost the bet, he owes me beer.

Glad to be home............

Woord- en beeldmateriaal zijn beschermd onder copyrights of OHOIRA PRODUCTIONS © tenzij anders vermeld.

Fish Town, a town without fish

Currently I am in River Gee on Mission for 5 days and lodged in the UNMIL compound in Fish Town. The Ethiopian Battalion, the Peace Keeping Force in River Gee, is co-sharing and guarding the UNMIL compound. The main recreational activities inside the compound is TV (the Africa Cup and African equivalent of the Bold and the Beautiful), domino and cigarettes. I participate in those three activities. They don't understand me and I don't understand them it's hilarious.

Tomorrow is the African Nations Cup finals: Ivory Coast against host country Egypt.

My lodging of the past five days is an administration office during the day and my sleeping quarters during the night. It is an air-conditioned UN container with the luxury of water and sanitation facility next to the copy machine and the printer. Conditions in the field are not the most comfortable one can imagine. "My container" is a four star hotel compared to what my colleagues are going through every night without AC and with the unsolicited company of the Mosquito Battalion. My host, a 31 year Liberian assistant-administrator, always prepares food for me when I arrive at the compound after a long and a kind of "Paris -Dakar" ride in the districts. We eat together, talk and work on the computer and then around 10 at night he unfolds my military camp bed and goes to the container next door (which is the conference room) where he will spent the night because of curfew.

Every morning I have to pack up my gear because office starts at 8.30 and change my sleeping quarter into an office again. It feels like every morning doing the BBC lifestyle program “Changing Rooms" without the fun and the creative input of the metro sexual interior decorator.

Food in Fish Town / River Gee hmmm........... is not easy if BUSHMEAT (that's how Liberians named the call of the wild) is on the menu. I will not explain in too much detail. Just make up your own mind. I can only say: "Thank God for noodles and crackers".

Field work means, apart from BUSH MEAT, leaving early and in this mission in particular visiting communities in remote areas of the county, identify gaps in basic needs and update the district profile according to several sectors.
This in preparation of a community based recovery program for Liberia in order to accommodate returnees from outside Liberia and to support the communities in their journey to rehabilitation.

Today I went to a remote district named Tienpo. In the whole district only two villages out of the twenty-one can be reached by road. We went on until the road stopped and a village began.
We were invited in a hut and started to explain the objectives of our visit. This time I didn't have to participate in the ceremonial welcome of a new guest. The local rule is before you talk you have to take part in the cola nut ceremony. A refusal might obstruct the course of the meeting. Every new guest in a village supposed to eat a raw cola nut (very bitter), drink water (from an unprotected water source) that symbolize the breast milk of mother earth and a piece of pepper. In some ceremonies a local fermented cassava juice or palm wine will be shared from one glass. In a meeting with 20 men and women this glass will be passed on and as the new guest you can be considered lucky because you will have the first drink. In the past days I have taken part in a few of those ceremonies.

The meeting went well and we were able to compile the data as accurate as possible. I was escorted by some village men to my vehicle, one of them an elderly was holding my hand all the way to our and constantly telling me how grateful he was for my visit because not often people take the time to come and visit their village.
Although I emphasized that my visit is not a guarantee for the establishment of basic facilities he kept on expressing his gratitude.

War is destructive and in communities like in Tienpo the trauma of loss is high and visible. It is not only the loss of personal belongings but also loss in development participation.

Today was my last day in River Gee, mission completed. Fish Town a town without fish.

Woord- en beeldmateriaal zijn beschermd onder copyrights of OHOIRA PRODUCTIONS © tenzij anders vermeld.

The Leatherback Turtle

Dermochelys Coriacea, the latin name for the Leatherback Turtle, has a very special meaning for me. Like any other turtle the Leatherback Turtle carries its house where ever it goes. It provides shelter and protection on its journey.

To me living and working in three different continents of this globe, changing places because of work is like carrying your house every time you change your step along your Journey of Life. Like the female Leatherback Turtle, but for totally different reasons for sure, I want to keep in touch with my "mainland" which is my family and friends and significant others.

Another reason is a journey I did with my parents, my father is from Ohoira and my Mother is from Warbal, in 1976 where I was ceremonial introduced to their kampongs (villages) and traditions on Kai Islands in the beautiful South-East of the Mollucas, Indonesia.

In the Local Story Telling Tradition and Customary Law the Leatherback Turtle takes a significant role. The search of the Leatherback Turtle is illustrated with short stories in a beautiful tale about the Journey of a Traditional Fisherman.
It became an unforgettable experience when my parents took me to the places that were linked to this magical tale and even more alive when I encountered my first and only Leatherback Turtles on beach of Ohoira-Ohoiren.

Understanding the Customary Law and Traditions is the key towards an effective conservation of the Leatherback Turtle in the Kai Islands. If we can protect the Journey of the Leatherback Turtle we also protect our Cultural Heritage from disappearing.

This site will reflects my journey and will allow you to travel with me.

Image of the Leatherback Turtle used for this article is not under copyrights of OHOIRA PRODUCTIONS ©

Woord- en beeldmateriaal zijn beschermd onder copyrights of OHOIRA PRODUCTIONS © tenzij anders vermeld.