Liberian Cherries

For 40 LD (about $0.70 US) I bought two pound of Liberian Cherries. I have now been in Liberia for 3 years, so I'm wondering where these cherries have been hiding.

The thing that is irksome is that in Liberia, most of the produce in the grocery stores is flown in at great expense, and then sold for even greater. I have seen two zucchini for $11.25! Strawberries are flown in and a text goes out to faithful customers. Tomatoes come from Spain and oranges are from South America. In the heart of the tropics, restaurants sometimes serve canned pineapple. They grow here!!!!

With the shipped in fruits, comes an elevated price foreigners rarely question. For the zucchini, asking if the price was correct, the worker who weighed it loudly and vehemently went into an argument about how it was priced correctly. The two zucchini cost half the wages of a maid for a week of work. They cost the same as hiring a a private taxi for two hours and giving the driver a good tip. The zucchini went back into the bin.

So now, out of the blue, local cherries appear (though they were still the appropriate red color). With an outer layer of leaf that needed to be pulled off, but could be done with ease. The taste was a bit tart but still juicy, fruity, and a hint of cherry flavor. Smaller than the normal cherry varieties, these fruits come with an outer husk and provide an experience of flavor, texture, and effort similar to the addiction pistachios invokes. A small bit of work for a reward, and repeatable but in a fruit version.

I found the mysteriously addicting berries at a local fruit stand that catered to locals waiting for transportation. Nothing on the table came in a box or on a plane, all were locally picked and probably from that very neighborhood. I think the owner was so amused by my interest in her products that she forgot to double the price. And at 70 cents for two pounds, I would have happily been the fool to pay more.

So I saw an unusual fruit and asked about it at a stand normally patronize by locals. It was incomprehensible that I had missed cherries in this country. The owner said they were cherries. I kept repeating my question in various forms unable to believe that I had been missing local cherries.

Me:

"What are these?"

"Cherries?"

"Liberia has cherries?"

"Are these cherries?"

"These are cherries?"

A woman in a perfectly made traditional dress, eating cherries unpaid for was at the table. She helped me out with this explanation:

"They are cherries. You know cherries. See cherries."

"You eat them like this. Cherries"

Then she ate another one without paying and handed me one to try. Then I purchased.

See cherries in Liberia.

Almost Chili

I almost made chili today.

It started out a week ago with the desire to make spaghetti. Sauce is better if made a day before and the day before plan never happened.

So Sunday came around and the basil in the garden had grown plus there was a large bag of onions in the cupboard. I chopped and chopped, fried, and seasoned. Tomato sauce from scratch was the goal.

Seasoning was my downfall. The pleasure of adding flavor took hold of me. I kept adding and thinking, oregano, sage, pepper, salt, and fresh basil. And finally I had thought too far. The cumin seduced me. I added it and thus my tomato sauce had a chili taste.

What to do? Two options appeared: make chili or add a jar of non-scratch sauce.

I accepted defeat, losing the battle but winning the war and making dinner.

On Top of a New Building

I stood on the top of the building. It was a new and would not be finished for another year. From the view, the whole of the city could be seen. Perched up high, my eyes were level with a soaring hawk.

Cities have a special look from a distance. Patterns emerge when the entire community is seen. The gridlines of streets can be made out by the repetitions of roofs. The curve of the river and the significance of a hill do not always form meaning on the street, but standing with the birds they do. Repetition of architecture and building construction pop out, while the details to distinguish blur in the distance.

In this city, a new building would stand. The beginning was marked with a ceremony and so would the end. Those on the roof were there for a middle mark. A person spoke about the significance of the new site, praised the workers, and spoke about the country. Others spoke about the significance of this new building, the rebuilding of the country, and appreciations to the workers, with hope that they might pass their skills along after its completion. All spoke well, all said meaningful words, and the hawks kept playing in the air.

They stayed so close because of a tree. Beside the building stood several trees with branches covered in orchids and moss. Beneath the cover of the leaves, a magical green playhouse of limbs hid. Within a limb sat a nest for the hawks. The tree had withstood over a hundred years of human presence. Weathering construction, destruction, conflict, and transition in the county, the limbs held the leaves and many living things lived in the forest of limbs inside.

I stood on the top of the new building. The plans allow it to withstand hostile conditions but so the the formation of the trees. The hawks eyed us all as they flew. Diving and soaring, they survived in this city through war and peace. As they watched us and the city, I prayed they watched over before retiring to their nest.