Share-taxis and Kickball

If you were to ask me, ‘So, what are you going to do today?’, I would answer you with something like ‘Go to xyz church, then do some interviews on the street, then take a taxi to Sinkor to meet with Pastor xyz and then go to the market to buy some vegetables for dinner tonight’. However, it is entirely possible, and actually very likely, that none of those things would happen. Such is Liberia, for me at least. But it always ends up being an amazingly productive day full of experiences that contribute to both my fieldwork and my settling into this country as a whole. For example:
On Friday, E and I left Broad Street (walkable from where I live, basically the ‘Center’ of town and a main road) to get to Sinkor (about 2-3 km away, still considered to be Central Monrovia) at 1pm, to make sure we could get to Sinkor for a Revival at a Church that was to start at 5pm. To get a share-taxi from Broad street to Sinkor anytime after 1pm, and especially on Friday it seems, is nearly impossible.
Here I think its worth elaborating on the share-taxi. It is a sedan, occasionally a station wagon, (usually yellow; usually with a shattered windshield; corroded body; may or may not have a complete floor; if it is blessed with a radio it is pumping out Christian gospel, Akon, Celeine Dion, or the popular Liberian rapper ‘Nigga-Blow’; sometimes in order to roll up or down the window you have to ask the driver to give you the one handle he has in order to do this; on an on and on), which will travel a certain route and take in passengers along the way, who indicate where they want to go by using certain hand signals (the destinations are limited to main areas, and you can stop anywhere on the way). The limit to how many people can fit into these cars is relatively flexible (I ask the rhetorical question, how many Liberians can you fit in a share taxi?) but usually, its 4 in the back, 2 in the front, not including the driver (pillows are sometimes supplied for the person who has to sit in the front, middle, on the E-brake and who has to try really hard to not to bump the gearshift). If things are really desperate, drivers will allow anyone willing to have someone else sit on his or her lap or in the trunk. So the maximum I’ve seen is: 2 people in the trunk, 6 in the back, 2 in the front. When I was in a share-taxi on the way to Kakata, I saw 3 people on the roof of another share-taxi, and once someone was on the hood. But these things are uncomfortable, to say the least. Add to that the ridiculous state of the roads, and intense traffic, and a 2 km ride can turn into one hour of sweaty bodies, limbs falling asleep, sore bottoms, breakdowns, arguments about politics and/or Chelsea vs. Man U, ringing ears and more exhaust in your face than on the runway at an airport. Charter taxis are available, where you say ‘take me to xyz’ and you get a large, luxurious seat to yourself and will get there much faster because shortcuts can be used. However, they can cost anywhere from $2-$5 within Central Monrovia during the day. A share taxi, across Monrovia, will cost no more than 25LD, which is less than $0.50. So, its clearly the ride of choice. Most places I go I only spend about 10-15LD. So on certain routes at certain times it is impossible to get one of these. There will be literally hundreds of people on Broad Street, waiting for just ONE small space to squeeze into so they can get home, to work, to church, wherever. So, when that ONE spot is noticed, there will be about 20 people chasing the car; whoever gets their hand onto the handle first, and can hang onto it until the car stops, gets the spot. I can’t believe I’ve NEVER seen a fight over this. If people miss their chance, they look disappointed but not angry. They just get back to looking for another spot. If someone is REALLY desperate, you can find guys who ‘find cars’ and give them ‘sma’ sma’ money’ to find an empty vehicle for you and 6 other people, who are willing to pay ‘sma’ sma’. Then, the vehicle that is found will charge double the fare. But you’ll save yourself a lot of time and trouble.
So, back to what I did that day: Instead of paying ‘sma sma’ for help with a car, I just thought E and I could leave a bit (4 hours) early and try our luck. One hour later, we chased a car, E got his hands onto the handle and shouted ‘Queen Queen come!’ and the crowd split so that I could get through; we got into the car, me on E’s lap, with 3 others already in the back seat, my head bowed as low as possible and my hands holding on for dear life on outside of the car door. Traffic was horrendous, as usual, so it took about 45 minutes to get to Sinkor. E couldn’t walk when we got out of the car because his legs were so asleep from me sitting on them, and I got a massive bruise on my arm from where it kept slamming into the edge of the car window. But we made it to Sinkor, and we had some time to kill. We did some interviews, and walked to the church which was supposed to start the revival at 5pm. At 5pm, the doors of the church were still locked, which was hardly surprising. So we sat on a stoop and drank some water for 30 minutes; people started turning up but not very many. Then 4 girls (about 14-17 yrs old I think) walked by holding a soccer ball. E said ‘they are going to play baseball’. I say, ‘with a soccer ball?’ He says, ‘Yes’. I say, of course, ‘ok, I have to see this’. So we asked if I could join in their game of baseball, they giggled and said, ‘fine’. So we walked for 15 minutes to fields behind the JJ Roberts Methodist School, where tons of youth were playing soccer, basketball, running, sitting and talking, etc. I followed the girls to one field towards the back, where some 10-12 yr old boys were playing soccer. The girls told them to leave; the boys didn’t, so one girl went to one of the make-shift goal markers, picked it up, and threw it over the fence. The boys left. Then she started putting bases down, and I realised, ‘Ah-ha! We’re playing kickball!’ Damn right we played kickball. A proper game, about 6 people (mostly girls but a couple younger boys) on each side, and all the rules of kickball from PE class. I kicked the hell out of the ball and made it to second base. They all started saying to each other, shocked, ‘Whi’ woma’ can play!’ I was proud of myself. By 6:15 I figured I should go back to the church. They told me to come back and play another time, which I absolutely will. I got to the church with perfect timing, praise and worship (singing and dancing) for 20 minutes (they’d been going for 30 minutes already), then I got my usual introduction, except for some reason they said I was a missionary, which got a near-standing ovation, and then went on for 15 minutes about how everyone in the church should ‘pray more that the international community recognises us.