Welcome to the real Liberia

I can understand now why people in Monrovia cringe at the mere mention of an infamous documentary called The VICE Guide to Liberia.

I only watched about half of it. I waited until the last possible moment, as not to completely freak myself out before I landed in what will be my home for the next 21 days. Tucked into an internet cubicle at the Brussels airport, I set out to watch what all the fuss was about.

It’s a horrific tale of the civil war that tore this country apart. A sickening and sordid account of mass killings, rape, torture and cannibalism. Child soldiers high on drugs committing atrocities unimaginable even in the movies. I had to leave for my gate around the time the narrator goes to visit a brothel in the slum of West Point, where prostitutes work for practically nothing just to get by.

I’m here as a JHR (Journalists for Human Rights) expert trainer. It was with the help of another Canadian JHR trainer that the VICE guys got their story. With his myriad contacts on the ground, he helped them track down former warlords.

As soon as I got here I asked around about him and was told all he wanted to do was help them get a story, not become part of it. After word of his involvement got around here, he had to leave the country because people were so upset by the way the film portrays their country.

It made it seem like Liberia is still a dangerous hell on earth. What was I getting myself into by coming here?

I decided on the flight from Brussels to Monrovia to just focus on looking ahead to the post-conflict Liberia and what’s happening right now.

The legacy of the civil war is still felt here, but the issues are economic, social, environmental. It’s a country still trying to get its act together, and human rights abuses are still rampant. That’s why JHR is here – trying to draw attention to them and teach local journalists to expose them.

I feel better about being here after spending a day with a kind group of expats who took me around. They showed me a side of Monrovia that helped calm my nerves.

People here are incredibly warm and friendly. And amid some of the jaw-dropping poverty, you can find beauty here.

I went to a place called Silver Beach and sat by the ocean as the sun set. The biggest concern of the Liberians who run the place was my new friends swimming too far past the breakers. They didn’t want them to drown.

They stood on the beach, frantically waving, pleading with us to get them back to shore. Once they returned safely, our hosts turned to preparing a sunset supper for us. It was a blissful evening.

As we crawled through traffic along the road back, I actually snoozed a bit, window rolled down.

Following that a bunch of us went to a pool party at a local compound. When I walked in I was shocked to see about 150 Westerners – the majority Americans – partying like they were at a frat house. It was pretty surreal. Where did all these people come from? They danced and drank without a care in the world.

I won’t sugar coat it though – being here has definitely been an adjustment.

Communication can be difficult, with much lost in translation.

There are regular break-ins in the expat buildings around me. You have to lock your bedroom door from the inside. Chain your gear to the bed. Lock every bag.

And people here live by the tick of a different, much-slower clock.

Then there are the little things you laugh at later.

There was the giant, dangerous-looking spider in my room that disappeared into a dark crevice. It took my roommate 10 minutes to sniff it out with a can of air freshener and a broom.

When my roommates accompanied me back to the apartment last night and then went back to the party, a torrential downpour began. All alone, the sound of the sheets of rain pounding on the roof spooked me.

When I went to wash my face I realized the water had been turned off (the people who run this building do that often to save money). I went downstairs to ask if it could be turned back on and I just got a disinterested shrug from the “guard” who said, sorry, the person in charge is asleep.

THEN WAKE HIM UP! What do you MEAN you can’t turn on running water? How can this be acceptable?? I thought.

The guard was unmoved by my reaction.

Just the other day I was raving about how lucky I was to have an air conditioned room, hot showers, decent power and fast 4G Internet.

I have to remember how little the people around me have. Most live on less than a dollar a day. I guess I can live with a night of no flushing toilets.

It’s an adjustment, no doubt. But at least so far, it’s nothing like The VICE Guide to Liberia made it seem.