Page 77 - Tattnall County

country. Although we saw police on the roads, there were no road signs, no traffc lights or stop signs. There are only a few paved roads running through the country. Where we traveled, outside of the capitol of Monrovia, many buildings were in a state of being half built, leaving you to wonder if they had been torn down or were being built up. There was no trash pickup, no sidewalks,no parking lots. The airport was the only public building I saw. There were many yellow taxis or trucks on the road overfowing with people needing rides. A popular way to get around was to hire one of the many guys on the side of the road with mopeds. Our van ride from the airport to the compound where we stayed was one of many sights and sounds. Getting close to what was called the Red Light district, we began to see businesses lined on either side of the two-lane road. Many were in small wooded huts, some in old box cars or concrete block buildings and many were mobile – in wheelbarrows with umbrellas overhead. The closer we got to the center of this district, the louder and more colorful it became. Anything and everything you needed to buy – from clothing, to medicine, to food, was heaped up in wheelbarrows everywhere. Traffc was ruled by whoever had the loudest horn and was the bravest driver. Extreme poverty was seen everywhere. The walled in compound that was our home for nine days included a church, the pastor’s house and school buildings used by children in the mornings and nursing students in the afternoons. There is no public education so if the children want to go to school they must pay whoever is willing to start a school. Many different religious groups have started schools and all of the students wear uniforms. The school rooms were empty except for the chalkboard and desks. The only electricity in the compound was in the pastor’s house

provided by generator. The generator was turned on three times a day to cook and have lights (and sit by the fans!). Since February is summer there, it was very hot! Water was provided by a well dug by a ministry in South Carolina. The pastor and family graciously stayed in the church so we could use their home. The church was high ceilinged and open air. When we arrived on a Sunday night, people, dressed in their fnest, were walking to the church service. I was so glad that we had made it in time to be able to see a service, but as the week wore on I realized they had services every night! Ladies Bible study, prayer meeting, men’s meeting, you name it, they had it. The most interesting was the prayer meeting. The pastor would give them a subject to pray about. This generally included topics such as success, fghting the devil, safety, fghting temptation, and receiving blessings. After the topic was given, the people would stand and walk around, chanting their prayers out

loud all at once. Many people were very emphatic, striking the pews as they prayed. The people spoke English, but with a very heavy accent, so many of them were hard to understand. Our goal for the week was to travel into the remote targeted villages each day and test for malaria. Since this trip was the third for Nurses for the Nations, groundwork had already been done. In the previous year, mosquito nets had been given to every villager and malaria rates in each village had been documented. We had a driver who took us in a van an hour’s (sometimes hazardous) drive each day to the villages. The chiefs of the villages had already been told we were coming and had organized the people. In addition, the pastor from the church would gather the people around and preach to them. Each village had some sort of covered public area built so the people could gather and be in the shade. This is where we tried to work. I was amazed at how the children would come and sit