Trying
When you ask a Liberian, “How are you doing?” the response you’ll usually get is, “Fine.” That is the Liberian equivalent of “good,” “well” (for those of us who try to be grammatically correct) or even “fine” from an American - the non-committal response that that really doesn’t tell you anything, and that annoys the hell out of Europeans. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a German or a Dutchman or an Englishman say, “Why do you ask me how I’m doing if you don’t really want to know? I know it’s not a sincere request. Why can’t you just say “Good morning” or “Good Afternoon’? It’s just a figure of speech I guess. But for Liberians who are not close, there is one and only one response to the question, “How are ya?” and that is “Fine.”Things change a bit if there is a degree of familiarity between the asker and responder. So, for example, I might say, “Good morning Louise, how are you doing?” “Trying.”
“Trying” is a non-committal response that does not necessitate further inquiry, but from the tone, may actually suggest that something may be up and you ask if anything is wrong. But nine times out of ten it simply means that life is indeed a struggle and I’m doing my best to keep up. Trying.
Life for our Liberian colleagues is much more difficult than for us ex-pats. Sure, our power cuts out all too often, air conditioners inconveniently break down, and the distiller clogs up every 3-4 months. But we have power to run our tv, microwave and computer, we have air conditioning to allow us to get real rest and relaxation and we have easily accessible potable water. That’s not true for our colleagues. Some have long journeys to get to work (in a country with nearly 50% unemployment, a US embassy job is almost unimaginable for most), some have to carry water to their house from a near-by pump, and others have access to electricity for only several hours a day. Yet day in and day out they come into work well-groomed, helping the US in its diplomatic efforts here in Liberia. They’re trying.
Yesterday I was walking up to the embassy compound with a colleague who had just returned from a 4-day trip into the field. She was commenting on just how lush the vegetation in this country is. I asked whether she didn’t notice that all the time and she noted that something really changes after the rains hit - the greens are greener and the vegetation just seems to fill every gap in the countryside. I guess I can see that, but I never have any doubt that Liberia is part of that mysterious impenetrable jungle that writers from centuries past spoke of. Cease the persistent human effort against the relentless desire for nature to live, grow and spread in this land of water, humidity and sun and I doubt it would take very long for nature to impose its will on all man has created here.
The struggle for farmers here is not in growing things, its in growing what the farmer wants to grow - cassava, rice, palm or rubber trees - and in keeping back everything else that wants to grow. Even in natural world life is indeed a struggle and every little thing is doing its best to keep up.
So I’ve noticed this tree near my house - actually directly across the street from my compound. I look at it almost every day and have thought on several occasions, “How can I blog about it?” Then yesterday it struck me.
No more needs to be said about it than, it’s trying.
Perhaps a bit of context might help.
