Day 8 Tuesday

We spent an hour in Ghana - waiting inside the plane for it to be cleaned and filled with a new set of passengers and flight crew.  I hate it when they don’t let you out of the plane or the airport, because you can’t say you’ve been to the country.  It just doesn’t count. 

I began to notice a change in atmosphere as the new set of passengers filed in.  I could hear loud conversations of broken English.  The only one I could understand was: 

“I couldn’t go to sleep in the last plane ride because I was too hungry.” 

“Well get something to eat.”

The volume rose, luggage was being slammed into compartments above, and I began having more trouble comprehending words being spoken.  I knew the Liberian people spoke what’s called, “Liberian English.”  I’ve heard a bit of it here and there from my aunts and uncles while growing up.  I just loved listening in on my Dad and his twin brother banter back and forth.  And I’ve met a handful of Liberians in the past who have attended ABC in Malawi or visited my father. 

Liberian English seems to be a more slurred, higher pitched version of English.  I was laughing in the restaurant with my Dad last night as I listened in on conversations.  He described it as “sing song” because of the strange intonation and inflection placed on certain words.  There is no way on earth anyone could imitate this language without growing up here, because know one from outside Liberia would ever get the intonation right!  It’s probably the most fascinating accent I’ve ever heard.

But the language is only one of the many differences I’ve observed so far in the Liberian culture.  They are aggressive people and very up front.  The second we all walked into the baggage area, Cozz grabbed a trolley from inside the doorway to place the luggage on.  One very heavy woman in a military uniform barreled towards him and demanded to have it back.  She snatched the handle away from him and rolled it back into place.  We were a little confused at our first Liberian encounter.  Liberians are so expressive, and they were so excited to greet their friends and family.  I couldn’t understand a word they spoke because it was all slurred, but it was an experience just to watch them communicate with one another.  They each created their friends by snapping their fingers in a handshake. 

The building we entered was very small.  The hallway to the customs counter was jammed full of people, which we providentially avoided because my Dad had friends in high places.  A military woman met us at the bus we took from the plane, and inspected our visas in a different room while we collected our baggage.  There was only one conveyer belt in the baggage area, which led out to the parking lot.  I mentioned how small the airport seemed, and my Dad explained that it wasn’t always like this.  When he was in high school the government built a brand new two-story building next to the original one now being used.  The airport was twice its current size before the war.  Unfortunately the war set the facility back to what it was – just one example of what the entire country is now experiencing. 

The study of culture was required in the major I chose at Covenant College.  The first thing they tell you about being introduced to a new culture is to be open-minded.  Never step off the plane with your own pre-conceived ideas or biased opinions.  You can’t spend your time comparing the culture experienced at the time to cultures of your past, because it will drive you crazy and create frustration.  This is true of our experience in Liberia – it just cannot be compared to anything else, least of all Malawi.  The differences are vast.  And God couldn’t have chosen a more dissimilar country than Malawi to build the first African Bible College campus.  But that’s also what I’m beginning to love about this place.