Traffic

I returned to Monrovia last night, after being home nearly three weeks because of a family emergency. I was really ready to come back, and after nearly missing my flight twice, first because of some confusion about a “voided” ticket, then thanks to the long-lasting effects of Tylenol PM, I finally made it. This time, there were no delayed flights, no returned aircrafts, only two long days of traveling, a little bit of anxiety, and some grogginess.
When I arrived, Craig, our Administrative Officer, picked me up in his personal car and drove me first toward Monrovia via the direct route, then around the long way because of a religious revival held at the stadium.

My first time here in Monrovia, I became acquainted with the mad driving of Liberians. Motorbikes rule the road, and those driving them know well how to weave in and out of cars, back and forth across lanes, in whatever direction will get them ahead the fastest, much like water flowing over rocks and pebbles. If only we hadn’t been in a regular sized SUV, we might have been able to get around the dam much like the motorbikes. At first, it was annoying, with long waits between inches forward. Then cars started passing on the dirt “shoulder” of the road. I put shoulder in quotation marks because this part of earth could also be considered the sidewalk, and in some areas the ditch. Several times I was afraid for those walking a few feet away from us.

Craig is very patient, more so than I. I had just finished 40 hours of stop-and-go air travel and at first was too tired to care about a little stop-and-go road traffic. But if I had been the driver, I would have been cursing and screaming long before Craig’s slight temper began to show. After a while, the cars started passing us on the left, in the cross-traffic lane. The logic must have been that because open space could be seen, cars should fill it up. It wasn’t long before traffic was completely blocked on both sides of the roadway. After waiting for over an hour, Craig’s patience was finally tapped and we turned around and went through Firestone. What should have taken 40 minutes took us about 4 hours.

Red Light, which I have only visited once, was named after the first traffic light to be installed in Monrovia, way before the civil wars. Now, it’s just a swirling chaos of cars and trucks – no traffic light to be found, weaving in and out of makeshift booths selling regular market goods, innumerable motorbikes and people. Red Light is where to go to catch a car going out of town, or be dropped off on the way in. On our way through, we saw a man getting a tattoo next to his motorbike in the middle of all the people, dirt, and grease. Since I am now almost halfway through my service, I can’t see myself needing to come back to Monrovia anytime soon, especially since next time I probably won’t be so lucky as to have Peace Corps driving me. I will, however, miss the chicken shawarma and sushi dinners I've had these two nights here.

I am not a fan of driving – I prefer to ride my bike or take the bus and totally leave the driving to someone else, unless it’s a long road trip and the control-freak button in my brain has been activated. But occasionally I can appreciate a nice drive through town, or a longer trip out on the open road, with the windows down and the radio cranked up; regardless if I have to drive, I will, and I usually do a pretty good job of it. But I could never drive in Monrovia. Most drivers here are stupid, for lack of a better word. Stopping dead in the middle of the road without checking the rearview, driving in the middle even when there are actually four lanes for traffic, pulling out in front of other cars – you name it. The lack of available roads makes it twice as bad, because all of the cars are forced to take the same route. As I told Craig, if I had unlimited access to cash, roads would be my first investment for Liberia. There should have been a way to bypass the stadium on a busy night – just as I would avoid Grand and Oak streets on Sprint Center event nights. There are just too many cars and no way for them all to get where they want to go. Craig himself suggested adding police to direct traffic. Probably both are needed to turn Monrovia into a city that flows.