The more things are different . . . (Liberia Take)

One of the things I’ve come to value with working in different locations is how valuable our (my) previous experiences are.  People, places, events and problems are not the same, but they are often similar.  There are times where drawing upon previous experience gives one insight because of similarities, and times where that experience is used to understand differences.  And sometimes the repetition of experiences in a new place gives one comfort and a sense of familiarity.

I know this is only my second international posting, but I’m sensing a pattern here and, oddly enough, it is somehow comforting.

So, on our second stop on the birding trip last weekend, I step out of the car and a couple of paces away on the ground is a pile of . . .  well, you know what.  My first thought was, experienced world traveller that I am, elephant dung!  But, no, they don’t have elephants here (well, not by Robertsport at least), and, well, I know elephant dung and it was not elephant dung.  I knew from any number of reasons - size, color, texture - you don’t want me to get into too much detail about.  Well, the group of us avoided the piles and worked our way down a dirt road looking at different birds (this was where the Monty Python jokes popped up) and trying to find a bird that had a very interesting call.  (I say that as if I know that “call” is the right word, based upon our inability to figure out where it was, my suspicion was that it wasn’t calling us at all, it was taunting us).

So, as we were standing in the middle of the road, listening at that bird, we heard another sound that definitely was not a bird call.  Mooooooooooo!  And there is was, my familiar theme.  Cows.  The cows have followed me here to Liberia.

Seemingly from out of nowhere comes a fellow herding cows. At that point, everyone pulls out their cameras to take photos of the cows because . . . well, just because.  When you can’t find the bird, photograph the cows walking behind you.  Now, these are not huge herfords, in fact they were pretty skinny.  At that point the jokes moved from the weight of an african swallow (I tell you - watch the movie) to where these cows actually came from.  Based on their appearance, everyone agreed that he must have walked them here all the way from Guinea.  Why else would they be so skinny?

Then of course, everyone started asking questions about the big humps on their backs (hump, what hump?).  Dan, our resident agricultural specialist told us it’s like a camel’s hump, it stores water.  Makes a lot of sense.  Just like his description of how cows make a great ecosystem for a whole host of parasites and other things that . . . it’s a lot better thinking the cows are skinny due to the long march from Guinea.

I will say that the white cow with black spots that was in the front was definitely the boss of the group.  He was on a mission to get his herd somewhere quick.  He kept turning around and mooing for the rest of the cows (and the human) to stop straggling and to keep up with him.  At one point, he turned entirely around, mooed at a cow that thought it was going to turn right instead of go straight, and looked like it was about to charge the obstinate one.  Obstinate wasn’t so obstinate and fell in line with the rest of the herd.

Oh yeah, and in case you didn’t notice, in addition to humps, they had horns.  Fortunately, they were totally uninterested in a group of gawking white humans to pay any attention to us, so they just walked on by.

So I now feel at home here in Liberia, the cows have welcomed me.  I just hope that none of them decide to hang out around the embassy, that would be really odd.