First it was the stove. During my first few Liberian food lessons, children from next door would come gawk at the machine that made flames instantly and without charcoal. Many Liberian have gas stoves, but they are apparently rare enough in these rural villages to produce wonder and excitement.
Then it was the table. Because my home came furnished only with bare concrete walls I spent my first five nights cooking from the ground. Soon I had a simple $15 USD wood table constructed by a local carpenter, and by the neighbors’ comments you’d think I just brought home a plasma TV.
None of these reactions, however, compares with the community response from my new gasoline power generator. You’d think they just won the lottery.
Generator are common enough here that the kids knew exactly how to bring it to life. Generators keep the shop/stalls open at night, keep the Akon looping at the nearby “night club,” keep the cell phone towers operating, and power a few homes along my street. But they are still rare and expensive enough to generate an excitement reminiscent of childhood Christmas mornings.
“Thank you!” One of the kid said, standing over the buzzing machine. Your welcome, kid, but I didn’t buy it for you. I didn’t buy it to watch movies and power light bulbs either, as everyone here apparently expects me to use it for. No, I bought the generator, the voltage regulator (which prevents the Chinese machine from exploding my computer), the extension cord, the power strip, and gasoline so that I can charge my iPod and phone, show science videos in class, check email, and post blogs.
There’s no other easy way for me to do so. Powering my computer would mean sitting with it for hours in a rusting freight container while it charges off the phone company’s generator, and paying dearly to do so. Many volunteers visit UN bases or other NGO offices to socialize and leach power, but my village has no such aid presence. My only internet option is connecting through a mobile phone SIM stick; which is both costly and slow. These first few blogs, I’ve calculated, have cost me just over a dollar each to post just in gasoline and internet fees. Then there’s all the equipment needed.
This means I am always sprinting through tasks while online or on the computer. Time really is money, so I apologize for needing to rush through my proofreading phase. I’m just happy to be chronicling my adventures so I don’t ever forget them.
The generator isn’t ALL WORK and NO PLAY. My neighbors will be welcome to join me for the occasional movie night. Our first one happened yesterday.
I readied my laptop on my fine wooden table while a half dozen kids set up chairs in my kitchen. Their mother, let’s call her Mary, sat on my porch outside to keep an eye on the generator and her own open door. Unfortunately I failed to bring from the states any sort of speaker system; these puny computer speakers are no match for the roar of the generator. As soon as Disney’s 101 Dalmatians (my choice because of the audience) began, however, no one seemed to mind not having any effective audio. I’m fairly certain most of the kids had never seen a movie before.
Mary was unimpressed by the Disney cartoon, and before the opening credits ended was already asking for something with “war” in it. The kids whined but mom got her way, and I went instead with Ninja Assassin, also my go-to choice in Tonga whenever guys wanted to watch a movie and not need to follow much of a plot. It’s just the type of American culture Peace Corps loves for us to share. The movie is bloody and violent, though in a painless action-movie way that didn’t have me too concerned for the children. They all loved it, and have already asked when we can do it again. That film might have done wonders for my community assimilation, but I don’t think I have many other mindless action movies available. Or the funds to keep the gasoline flowing.
Let’s wait and see how expensive this new electrical system becomes. You may not be hearing from me very often.
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