Liberia Memoires

Three years in South Eastern Liberia. WELCOME TO WEST AFRICA While in SA on vacation, my wife and I found the post, as program manager for a Danish relief organisation in Liberia, advertised on relief web. Previously we had been told by others within the aid world, that the Scandinavian aid organisations paid best, and after 5 years of working for peanuts with other groups, I looked up Harper on the net, found some pictures of the beaches and then decided to try for the post. Very quickly they replied and I soon found myself in Copenhagen lodged at an 800 euro a day hotel waiting for an interview. Good start and I gave my best effort to make sure I got the post. 2 days later I was back in Germany at home and still looking for available work. I almost accepted an Afghanistan posting with someone else, but the Danes came through first and I found myself back in Copenhagen at a briefing on my way to Liberia. The contract was for a year to close a 5 year project and to distribute half a million dollars of assets to the local population and authorities. It was clearly stipulated by the head of section that the money should all be spent with nothing remaining at the end of the year. A bit of confusion surrounding the information on what assets actually existed, but this was a normal situation with most organisations, with the HQ not completely up to date on what was going on in the field. No question of saving any funds as had always been the case with previously. Good salary and lots of money to spend-a seemingly perfect situation. My wife was pregnant and we did not want anymore war postings as we had had previously in Angola, Ethiopia, Somalia, Guinea and Zaire where we had even been taken hostage-albeit for a short time, but the stress was enough and we were looking for a quiet posting by the sea somewhere. I arrived in Liberia at the usual African airport with lots of confusion and everyone looking to make a quick buck. Being well used to this and having all my papers in order, I did not react and was soon through and staying at the best hotel in town, which was not much, but anyway already much better than what I was used to with the previous organisations. My predecessor was there to meet me and the next day he introduced me around town to the different UN offices and other agencies in Monrovia. The second day we left by car, a new land cruiser, for Harper which was a 16 hour drive through at least 10 checkpoints where all the crazy looking soldiers were heavily armed Feeling very worn when we arrived I only managed to get to bed and nothing much else. The next morning when I awoke, you can manage my surprise when I saw that the Atlantic surrounded the 3 story residence on 3 sides and the sun set directly in front of the balcony. Super, fantastic and everything else in-between were the first words that came to mind, but still slightly suspicious as the guy I was taking over from seemed so relieved to be leaving and looked exhausted. He stayed for a month to assist me with a proper hand-over for which I was extremely grateful as the authorities, the beneficiaries and the staff seemed as corrupt as you can get. A quick analysis of only the previous 2 years accounts brought it clearly home to me that this would not be as easy as it looked, and when the senior staff realised that I was as “African” as they were the animosity showed very clearly. I had to be on my guard. One of the first decisions taken by me was to block the purchase of a new land cruiser which had been planned by the staff before my arrival, and this decision did not go down well with them. I was quick to notice that all the assets were seen by them as belonging directly to the staff and not to the beneficiaries, and definitely not to the authorities. The project owned 6 land-cruisers, 18 motorcycles and a truck, which was extremely excessive compared to what I was used to, especially as I was the only expatriate employed. The project stores were better stocked than the Toyota dealer itself and the controls were almost non-existent. This was definitely going to a hard one. Previously the project had done

all it’s logistics through Ivory Coast but now with the recent fighting there, coupled with the presence of Liberian fighters amongst the different factions, who were being blamed for a lot of the looting, the border was closed since 3 months. This now meant that all the fuel had to be bought from Monrovia, a 16 hours drive, or, when available, from Zwedru, which was “only” 6 hours away. My personal supplies I had to buy in Monrovia, but in the beginning it would suffice with fish and lobster which was abundant and extremely cheap. No supermarkets existed and the few shops that were in Harper only sold the usual sardine tins and powdered milk. Very few vegetables were grown and the choice was extremely limited, so my imported seeds were planted and within 6 weeks I was counting on being as selfsufficient as possible.

TOE TOWN AND THE FIRST KILLINGS My predecessor eventually left and my life as program Manager started. Had I known in advance what was going to occur, would I have stayed? Probably, being the adrenaline junkie that I am, although for my wife and child, I still wonder today if I did not put them through too much? My wife would certainly disagree as she is not willing to miss out on any “fun”, be in dangerous or not!! The first incident occurred almost straight away, when a representative of one of the Scandinavian organisations went missing between Monrovia and Harper. I had been monitoring a radio conversation where the local staff of a local NGO had been talking amongst themselves about a few people, including their own country director, gone missing between Monrovia and Harper. I needed to travel to Monrovia to stock up with supplies and left early morning at about 5.00 am. Being a bit worried about reports of unrest further north, I included two security guards with myself and the driver. When we reached the ZwedruSinoe crossing I met two very strange looking Catholic Bishops in full carnival costume travelling towards Harper. We stopped them and asked about the safety on the road between Zwedru and Monrovia, and if they had seen anything strange. They replied that all was well, which, until today, I still hold them responsible for nearly having my death on their hands. We continued to Zwedru without incident and passed straight through. When we arrived a few kilometres before Toe Town we encountered a few hundred people fleeing towards Zwedru, including a white missionary, whom we questioned. He seemed certain that the government troops were again in control of the town after a battle with the rebels the previous night, and having come this far I did not feel like turning back, although I definitely was going against all security regulations by doing so. When we reached Toe Town the whole town had been looted and all the personal effects of the population were spread out along the main street. The so-called government soldiers were mostly kids dressed in women’s clothes and all armed with Kalashnikovs, which I actually found quite amusing. Some of them were even begging for hand-outs. After my previous experiences in Rhodesia and Somalia, I was strangely enough, not frightened but keen to get the hell out of there. Some older better armed soldiers took me out of the car and questioned the wisdom of my being in the area, but at the same time refused to allow me to turn around, and forced me at gun-point to continue. My driver tried to run off into the bush, for which he promptly received a slap around the ear from me, which definitely saved his life. The soldiers forced us to take a woman with us who was obviously in shock, and then told us to continue and see what had happened to “our friends”, which told me straight away that the missing people were dead. This shocked me and panic started to set in. I was driving and I put my foot flat deciding that now we were in the shit. The huge heavy land-cruiser was not going to stop for any ambushes and I was not going to get killed by this bunch of crazies. About two hundred meters further the car belonging to the missing group was burnt out in the middle of the road and three bloated bodies lay on the verge. I did not stop to investigate and speeded up

to get the hell out as fast as possible. When Africans are in this state they will kill everything and anything that moves. The next check-point was full of wounded soldiers and I was literally ripped out of the car by a crazy eyed soldier who pulled me across to a clearing and demanded money, at the same time as he held two grenades to my head. Even though I was terrified, I knew well enough not to show it and thought to myself “you dumb fuck, how are you going to pull the pins with one in each hand”. Another well-armed, well-built soldier pleaded for me, and whoever you are, thanks a million as you surely saved my life. The crazy grenade toting idiot was telling the others that it was too late anyway and that killing “one more” would make no difference. I now was certain that this lot were responsible for killing the Norwegian and Liberia aid workers further back. They eventually took what money I had in my pockets and told me to get out of there but insisted that I take six wounded with me. Even then, with my idealistic naive aid worker mentality, I insisted that they leave their weapons behind, which surprisingly they did. From then on it was smooth going as the wounded were my passport through the rest of the check-points. When I reached Zleh town I was told to stop at the police station, where the commander came out and promptly bought cokes for the soldiers in the car, and spoke to them about some general who would soon be there to sort out the whole issue. This confirmed that the whole lot were implicated in the killings of the three aid workers, probably planned since Monrovia as they had been travelling with a huge amount of cash and many local staff knew about it. My personal theory is that the so-called government soldiers ambushed the car, killed the occupants and then started to shoot each other in a battle over the money. Once I had dropped them all at the hospital, and they had relieved me of my remaining cash, I drove out of there like a bat out of hell and did not stop until I reached Sacklepiere, where the UNHCR had a field office. I stopped there reported to them, and called Copenhagen on the sat-phone to report the incident. They were naturally very worried about me and wanted me to remain with the HCR staff until further notice. I was by now very stressed and wanted to get to Monrovia where I could relax in a the hotel, drink a whiskey and eat some meat which I had been craving for since I arrived, so I continued anyway with much more trouble except for a few irritating check-points, and eventually reached Monrovia safe although quite shocked by the days happenings. The whole incident was by now being discussed all over town, and I was the hero or idiot of the day depending who was reporting it. I anyway got a lot of mileage out of the story as everyone wanted the first hand account, and invitations were quick to come for visits to all heads of donor and UN agencies, which allowed me to nurture useful contacts for later down the line. My HQ decided to fly me back to Copenhagen for psychological evaluation, which suited me fine as my wife was about to give birth and I was planning to fly home anyway for a week which would have cost me an arm and a leg at that time, as very few flights were going in and out of Monrovia. After half an hour with the psychologist she sent me home to Germany and gave me two weeks paid rest. My beautiful baby daughter was born about a week before I arrived and we had been planning for them both to join me in Liberia, but now we had to rethink, as the situation had worsened and become much more dangerous. We had managed to find a new apartment and my wife would have to stay home and wait until things calmed down.

RETURN TO CONFUSION I returned to Monrovia in March and by now the country had been cut in two by the rebel forces who controlled all the roads between Monrovia and Harper, which was still under the control of government militias. The other aid organisations were all packing up and leaving and my HQ were in the same frame of mind as I was stuck in Monrovia and had no way to even get to the project area, unless something radical happened. I was staring at the sea all day long from the hotel balcony, and soon hatched an idea to return by boat. I found a 23ft marlin fishing boat with two powerful engines behind, previously only used for fifty hours, and the

owner wanted to leave in a hurry due to the rapidly decreasing security situation. My HQ did not want to purchase any further assets at that time but a long-term rental, which equalled the price of the purchase, was arranged, and I started to plan the return by sea. After spending four years in Mozambique diving for sea-cucumber and shark fishing, I was well adapted to the sea and had all the confidence that I would make it. The coastal waters of Liberia are warm and the Atlantic swells in this area are not as violent as elsewhere. Another positive reason for taking this route is that the Liberian navy was, and still is, non-existent, and the fact that I knew that Africans generally are not used to the sea, and will not be interested in pursuing a boat made me feel safe. I’m sure if my HQ had been properly involved in the planning they would have refused the whole idea. Those who knew me were quite pleased with the idea and the fact that I had the guts to do such a trip. Those who didn’t thought that I was mad, and probably still do. The first trip to test the boat and the sea was between Monrovia and Buchanan, a 3 hour trip which went off without incident, except for the port authorities in Buchanan who, of course had to be bribed to “watch” the boat overnight even though I had to leave my own security with it. The following morning, accompanied by two nuns, an IOM rep, and six other local passengers desperate to reach Harper, we drove from Monrovia to Buchanan, planning to start as early as possible. Just outside Buchanan at the so called iron gate checkpoint we were taken out of the vehicle and thoroughly interrogated by the soldiers, which took about three hours and meant that we only left the harbour at around noon which was cutting it fine as I had calculated for a seven hour trip and did not want to travel after dark. I had previously organised, by HF radio with the remaining team in Harper, to meet me offshore and escort me into Harper accompanied by a customs official in order to avoid troubles. Now this delay was going to once again put me in grave danger. When we were about forty minutes out at sea the passengers began to be afraid of the sea and the waves which by now had risen to two meter high swells, and demanded to be returned to shore. This would have meant more delay and I refused, explaining the problems we would face when we eventually arrived in Harper, so we continued even though they were starting to be sick and vomit all over the boat. Passing Greenville which was under rebel control, we were forced to pass a long way out and even then we could hear warning shots being fired and saw the rebels gesturing to us to return to shore. The sea was gradually becoming worse and I had to stop every hour or so to rest the engines, which provoked serious sea-sickness in the passengers, and soon we were swimming in puke, which meant we had to continually run the pumps and redirect the water into the boat to wash it out. Most of the time they spent hiding themselves under a strip of plastic sheeting praying!! The fuel was now well below half tank so there was no question of turning back and the sun was fast setting by the time we reached the shores of Grand-kru, which was still two to three hours travel from Harper. We were unable to contact the boat that was supposed to meet us and it was impossible to see them so we continued by ourselves and reached Harper around eight-o-clock in the evening, well after dark. Upon our entrance the government militias went crazy, provoked by the fact that they had been fighting a running war with the rebels, and also that a white man was on board, even though they knew full well who I was, and at least twenty of them, all armed to the teeth, met us at the quay, claiming that we were spies for the rebels. I knew that they wanted money, and the fact that I had two nuns on board was a preventive factor to them starting to shoot, although the presence of so many child soldiers was worrying me intensely. I sat on the outer edge of the boat while everybody screamed and argued, ready to do a dive at the slightest inkling of any gun being cocked. I distributed a couple of cases of beer that I had on board and this calmed them down for a while, but it was not before three hours later that a heavily armed Lebanese wood trader made them let us go and we could eventually leave the boat and return to our base up on the hill. They thoroughly searched everything we had and somehow missed the five thousand dollars I had stashed away carefully in a filled oil tin, which probably would have gotten us killed if they had found it. At least the staff appreciated the danger I had gone

through to deliver their salaries, when the next day, to their amazement, I paid them. The authorities now impounded the boat for a week before allowing me to have it back, on condition that, in case of evacuation, the town authorities would accompany me out of Harper back to Monrovia to which of course I agreed. By now all the other agencies had evacuated their staff except for UNHCR who had left a security officer behind. We became close friends, being the only expatriates left and spent our evenings drinking whiskey together and waiting for the rebels to start to turn towards Harper. At that time, the rebel forces were more interested in moving towards Monrovia, and it seemed that we were being spared, albeit temporarily, having to evacuate. My sporadic communications with Copenhagen HQ were well received, although I believe that they were not at all aware of the danger that really existed at that time or they would certainly have pulled me out. My wife was also much occupied with our new daughter otherwise I am sure she would have insisted that I leave long before I did. The local staff was not sure what to do but certainly appreciated the fact that I stayed behind and shared their worries and the danger which was constantly surrounding us. The government militias were demanding diesel on a daily basis and money at least every three days, which we were in no position to refuse. The logging was going on twenty-four hours a day, and the port, which was below my balcony, was continually filled with trucks coming in from the forests, with trees so huge that the diameter alone was over 3 meters long. Each ship would offload diesel to the government militias for use in their war against the rebels and every ship was destined for France. I knew this, as representatives of the UN Security Council panel of experts on Liberia, had asked me, while I was in Monrovia, to please inform them on the registration, names, and destinations of the ships coming into the Harper port. I made it my business to contact the sailors as they came in, usually all Russians who would all pass by my place on their way into town. We would spend the evenings drinking together and then the information would flow as well as the numerous bottles of vodka. The value of each of these ships hard-wood cargo was worth a fortune and would have been able to cover Liberia’s schooling and infrastructure repairs many times over. So much for the international community caring about Liberia, and my cynicism was definitely reinforced by the traffic going on in front of me. As the UN sanctions on wood export were planned for May, the wood dealers were desperate to export as much as possible beforehand, and they probably did the maximum possible. At the same time the militias, led by the Maryland superintendent, were fighting a continual running battle with the rebels around Fishtown area in River-Gee district. A radio broadcast by the superintendent inciting the local tribe –the Grebo, to “kill all the Krahn” was reminiscent of old wars and told me that this would soon escalate even in our area. In April I had reports about serious killings of the population going on in River-Gee, which I had no possibility of checking on, but I started to prepare my exit and decided that once the reports of rebel movement towards Harper reached me I would leave. The UN refused to fly me out as I had my boat and was making them look stupid by staying so long, when they by now had removed all their staff, even when they had access to helicopters for quick extraction if needed. Luckily I had been put in contact with the UNHCR rep in Tabou, across the border in Ivory Coast and only a 35 minute boat trip where I planned to evacuate when the time came, so I now at least had regular radio contact with the outside, and someone who was following up on what I was doing. I was now sleeping badly at night and the nervousness of the local militias was catching up with me. Harassment was becoming a regular thing in town and I sensed that it was now time to leave.

EVACUATION AND IVORY COAST The evening of the 15th May I decided to leave the following morning, and was granted permission by the authorities on condition that the top officials-minus the superintendent, would accompany me to Monrovia. I had not informed anyone of my plans to head for Ivory Coast and that same evening the officials arrived at our base and slept on my sofa so that I had

no chance of leaving them behind. I insisted that I would not allow any weapons onboard and this was agreed upon as they were by now, as terrified as I was. The following morning, at first light we made our way, with only a small bag each, down to the fishermen’s port where the boat was berthed, and you can imagine my surprise when I saw that every Fanti canoe and dugout was loaded to the brim and that the whole town was preparing to leave at once. The panic felt by me and the staff must have been infectious, or visa-versa. As the first canoe made it’s way out it was pulled in by the militia and stripped of all valuable items, which was an invisible sign to all the others to leave at the same time, in order to try and avoid everyone losing everything. I placed our boat in the middle and slowly began my way out, with ten passengers and seriously overloaded. When we passed the militia they started to fire in the air, at which I immediately accelerated both motors and shot out like a rocket to the open sea. Once out of their range I was so relieved to be alive and whole that I foolishly stopped and gave them the finger, before turning left towards Ivory Coast instead of right for Monrovia, at which the government officials immediately began to protest. I offered them the choice of jumping overboard or shutting up and following with me, to which they had no choice. By now I was so filled with adrenaline that I was ready to throw anyone overboard who protested, and probably would have done at the slightest provocation, which they all noticed as well, so I was definitely the captain at that moment. UNHCR were expecting us and had prepared the local authorities and military to meet us on the beach of Tabou, although I think that they hardly expected the long line of boats and canoes that were following us. In all, with the people fleeing overland an estimated 20,000 refugees arrived in Tabou in the next couple of days. When we arrived in front of Tabou the people were gesturing for us to come straight in and the radio communications were insisting that we make our way directly in. As the tide was low I was a bit sceptical, not knowing the entrance, but fear of the military on the beach, also armed, made me do as instructed. When we arrived at the tiny entrance of the fishing harbour I tried to accelerate my way in in order to reduce our draft, but as I suspected the water was far to shallow and we stuck on the sand with the waves crashing into the boat and slowly filling us. I managed to jump overboard and used the waves to push the boat out into water deep enough to use the engines. Luckily one of them started as the batteries had by now been drenched, and we managed to make our way out to sea again, and pump out the boat. The whole time, the passengers had remained silent out of fear of the water, and only the two crew members and I had been reacting, in order to save us all and the boat. We anchored well out from shore and took a canoe into land where we were well received by the authorities-the UNHCR rep had disappeared by now as she was worried that we were not going to make it when she saw the impending disaster, upon our initial entry, and probably did not want any responsibility in case anyone drowned. The Ivorians were politeness itself and the relief was incredible after leaving Liberian under such strenuous circumstances. They immediately issued me a visa, gave me food and drink and made me feel at home. I asked the HCR representatives for a hotel, and they showed me to flea infested dump in Tabou, stating that the hotel where they stayed would be way out of reach of my budget. This irritated me seriously and I took a taxi to the same hotel and settled in, while they did their best to ignore me as much as possible. A simple aid-worker was not on the same level as UN employees. Thanks to this attitude I was determined to do something noticeable. After one or two days rest at this empty four star hotel by the sea in Ivory Coast, I decide that it would be great place to stay for a while and I called Copenhagen to inform them that the amount of refugees arriving from Liberia would certainly justify some sort of intervention even if it was minimal. They were positive, especially as they had funds remaining from Liberia and funds were soon made available for me to do something useful for the refugees. At first I approached the UNHCR who told me assist other agencies with camp management, which I found to be unnecessary as they seemed to have an excess of funds and certainly did not want to share any responsibilities or have anyone looking over their shoulder at what they

were doing, or not doing. I suggested to HCR that we build temporary latrines along the border and they supply us with plastic sheeting to distribute as shelter to the refugees, as the rain was pouring down as it usually does in this region. This idea was also not well received and eventually I gave up any form of coordinated collaboration with the UN as they seemed to want to control and not really analyse what was needed. At the same time I could see that the tension between the Liberian refugees and the Ivorian population was growing, and the “jeune patriots” a semi armed youth wing militia supported by President Gbagbo were openly beating Liberian refugees, accusing them of collaboration with the northern rebels who were causing continual chaos in Ivory Coast. I approached the governor of Tabou, a well educated reasonable humane man, who always had the interest of the general population at heart, with an idea to try and reduce this tension between the two different groups. Together with my team from Liberia we formulated an idea to put together one hundred “jeune patriots” who were unemployed , and one hundred Liberian refugees, and assist in the clean-up of the town of Tabou, which was full of garbage, a lot of it due to the large influx of refugees from Liberia. The salary would be minimal-500cfa-which was at that time approximately 1usd per day, but the objective was to assist in the general protection of the refugees and reduce the frustration of the Ivorian youth, who could clearly see all these funds being spent on the refugees while they themselves had no employment and no foreseeable future in their own country. The authorities would supply a tractor and a truck and we would pay for fuel and all necessary equipment needed for the operation, such as shovels, garbage drums, gloves, protection clothing etc. The project was well received by the governor and the population who were clambering over themselves to have any form of employment available. The tension between the two groups dropped instantly and soon they were befriending each other and the previous violence against the refugees stopped. My HQ were very pleased and allowed me to remain in the fancy hotel, which was much reduced in price by now, and now gave me a chance to bring my family to stay with me, which was fantastic. The UN were now seriously pissed off with me as I was not only staying in the same hotel as them, but had a project that was making a difference and seriously assisting to protect the refugees, while their projects were money wasters and not showing any results worth reporting on, although the reports were flowing regularly telling of all the good things they were doing. I clearly remember one instance where the local hospital, which was the referral hospital for all the refugees, would be forced to close at nights, because of lack of funds to pay the night nurses. I attended a meeting where the authorities made an appeal for funds from the UN agencies and two renowned medical organisations that were also operational in the area. At the next meeting, when they all declined, for reasons of their own, I immediately committed our organisation to paying the salaries for three months and afterwards informed our HQ, who agreed without hesitation. This was also a thorn in the side of the others who were more interested in their image and personal egos, than what was happening in reality, but I couldn’t care less as they had always had the same attitude and as far as I was concerned the idea with aid work was to make a difference to the beneficiaries and not to wave the flag higher than the others. Our legality was immediately challenged and all sorts of objections were presented, but we went ahead anyway and the hospital remained open. By now the government authorities were extremely pleased with our work and our collaborative attitude and were willing to assist us in every way possible. At the end of July when our HQ returned from their summer break, where no one is in the office, Liberia was world news with Charles Taylor on his way out and killings in Monrovia a daily occurrence. They asked me if it would be possible to return to Harper as they sensed by now that further funding would be forthcoming from the donors for the restructuring of Liberia once things settled down. I toyed with the idea and presented it to the Ivorians who were working with me, although after what I had been through previously in Liberia I was not

keen to leave the comfortable hotel and my family for the cesspool of Liberian politics and insecurity once again. Once again the Africans came to my aid. The government officials had heard of my HQ request for me to return to Liberia and arranged an impromptu meeting between me and the Liberian rebel generals who were operating in south eastern Liberia. The Ivorians were unofficially supporting the rebel factionMODEL-Movement for democratic change in Liberia-with weapons and financial support. We met at a hotel in San-Pedro, an Ivorian port where thousands of Liberians lived since many years, me, a few members of my team, the Ivorian representatives and two semi literate Liberian so called generals. The Ivorians informed the Liberian generals that we were their friends and that we wanted to return to Harper. They were told in no unclear terms that any harassment of me or any members of our team would result in trouble for them and possible withdrawal of all support they had previously received, which was agreed upon and papers were drawn up to that effect, giving us unhindered access to the whole of the south east. The Ivorians also agreed to allow transit of any materials needed for aid work to pass through their territory and to cross the border without hindrance. This document I presented at a meeting with UN agencies in Monrovia but was shouted down and told that Liberia was sovereign territory and that all aid supplies would be channelled through Monrovia and not through the Ivory Coast. I suspected commissions and other kickbacks would be affected if my idea was agreed upon but I kept my mouth shut as I wanted to keep operational, and our HQ liked to keep a low profile vis-à-vis the UN.

RETURN TO LIBERIA In early August 2003 we sent the first representatives of our team back into Liberia, initially to check on reports of a massacre earlier in River-gee-county. What we found was extremely shocking and to this day the main perpetrators have not been brought to justice. Three hundred and sixty nine men women and children from the three villages of xxxx, xxxx, and xxx had been systematically tortured and killed by the Taylor forces, led by general Small, and directed by the then superintendent of Maryland County, and the future interim minister of interior Marais. Our team took photographs of mass graves and received verbal and written eye witness accounts, which we passed on to the United Nations as early as September 2003. Our HQ, surprisingly did not want to be involved in any investigations or public denouncements, probably also due to funding. We began preparing a house to house census, and in early September sent in a team of ninety six persons into the three Counties of Maryland, Grand-Kru and River-Gee to do a full head count of the remaining civilian population and to check on the status of schools, clinics and water supplies. This would then greatly assist us in preparing future interventions, and make our proposals to the donors more credible. The whole exercise passed without any serious incidents even though the territory was under control of the rebel militias, and this proved to us that the Ivorian documents that we carried were effective and respected. I now could return personally and begin to rebuild our base which had been completely looted, right down to the last moveable item and sometimes even more than that. Door frames, window frames and ceiling boards had been stripped and we had to basically start renovating from scratch with an empty shell being all that remained. My family and I remained based in the Ivory Coast until mid October 2003, when my wife and child returned home to Germany, where I would join then for Christmas. The whole time we were in Ivory Coast we were well treated by all parties and never once did we fear for our lives, or for that of our young child. For this we will be for ever grateful and hope against all odds that this beautiful country does not tear itself apart by civil war as Liberia has done. I now moved back to Liberia on a permanent basis and travelled backwards and forward between Harper and Monrovia by vehicle through rebel held territories using my Ivorian laissez passes which were always respected. The UN troops had

started to establish themselves in and around Monrovia and were as far as Buchanan by early November 2003, but it would not be before July 2004 that they would reach Harper, so I was on my own and had to quickly set up a project that would assist in keeping the peace and encourage the refugee population to return.

THE LOVE BOAT. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees-UNHCR-organised an exploratory mission by ship, to Harper in early November 2003. I was invited to participate, even though by then I was based permanently in Harper and could have provided all the information that they could ever need. Without “official” UN reports on the situation we would not exist!! This mission was dubbed “the love boat” and it turned out to be complete farce. They even had the gall to write official reports on their findings. When I arrived in the port to meet the captain and the French Team-leader I was informed very undiplomatically that he was the boss and that I was only along for the ride should keep my mouth shut and would have nothing to say whatsoever. This was perfectly fine by me, as I wanted to transport our vehicle from Monrovia where it had been parked in the EU compound during the fighting, back to Harper. The first thing I noticed was that the ship had no crane onboard so I made sure that our vehicle was in front of the other six UN vehicles which I was wondering how they were going to remove from the ship when the mission eventually reached Harper. Before leaving we were thoroughly “briefed” on the situation in Harper without them even asking me what was actually happening in the place where I lived. I was having a good laugh but of course not openly. The ship was equipped with air-conditioned apartment containers and all food was provided-three meals a day, so I lay back with my bottle of whiskey and watched the circus as it unfurled in front of me. When we arrived in Harper the following day we anchored offshore while they waited for a previously planned meeting with the rebel leader General Peter Toe. Another irritant for the team leader was that our team had erected a flag pole with our organisation’s flag flying, clearly visible from the ship, to which I had to smile and give them credit as they knew well in advance what importance the UN attached in their “flag-flying”. A canoe rowed out from Harper to meet us and I could see through the binoculars that it was two members of our team, one of which was named Peter and happened that day to be wearing military trousers, so when they reached the ship the team leader mistakenly took him to be General Peter Toe. When they climbed on board they presented with the whole spiel about the United Nations mission and why the ship and all the important delegates were there. They were invited to sit at the table for negotiations and when they both looked at me with enquiring glances I glanced back and showed with my eyes that they should go ahead and enjoy the show as much as I was. The team leader began by feeding them and giving them soft drinks and beer, before starting off on his well rehearsed speech. After about twenty minutes of negotiations even he could by now see that these two did not have a clue about what was going on, and he asked if Peter was actually general peter Toe? You can imagined how pissed off he was when they said no, and pointed out that they worked for me. I had to excuse myself and only just managed to reach my container before having a hysterical attack of giggles. General Peter Toe was still on land and would never voluntarily row out to sea. The self importance of this arrogant French team leader was just unbelievable and it was great to see his embarrassment. We now docked in the port and I was not allowed to leave the ship until him and his team had done a proper assessment of the security situation. In order to do this they were required by UN regulations to have at least two vehicles and be fully equipped with flak jackets and helmets, accompanied by a UN security advisor. How they were going to get their vehicles off the ship was also beyond me. The person in charge of logistics, a young Frenchman with one of those jackets with all the pockets, constructed a ramp on board and one on the pier, but with the continual swell it was impossible to keep them aligned and nothing happened for two days, by which time I was becoming frustrated by

the whole issue and wanted to leave the ship for my house which we could see from the ship. Eventually I pushed him aside, told him to shut up in no uncertain terms and hitched the outer ramp to the boat so at least the two were moving in tandem. As my vehicle was in the front of the queue I jumped it off the ship first while all the others were waiting behind me, fully dressed with their blue protective flak jackets and helmets, despite the 35 degree heat and my assurances that all was safe. When they saw the vehicle’s leap onto shore they decided that it was too dangerous for their vehicles and personnel to do the same so their mission was aborted. A few of them decided to visit the town using our vehicle and found that the famous General Peter Toe was not even in town, so they gave up, sailed back to Monrovia and wrote their reports on the situation in Harper. I was very pleased to see the back of them, but this was only the first of the United Nation’s fiascos in our area. At least we managed to transport our vehicle back to Harper and we had a great laugh at the whole story. Another incident that occurred in Harper will also bring a laugh to the lips of those who remember those days of madness. One morning we drove down to the airfield to meet another of the assessment helicopter missions that were was supposed to be arriving, and I happened to see a land-cruiser pick-up that had obviously been looted. I told my driver that this looked suspiciously similar to the pick-up that we had lost, and he replied that this was the same one, which was now in the hands of the “Lion” battalion commander. I was under the protection of the “Dragon” battalion at that time, and having some back-up I decided to approach commander Lion and told him that we needed our pick-up back as we had work to do and that it was humanitarian property. At the time the rebels, for some reason, believed that I had daily telephone contact with the overall commander-Nimely- whom to date I have never met, and I used this to tell commander Lion that I would be discussing the pick-up with Nimely that evening. The Lion battalion boys went off around the corner to discuss this issue and came back after a few minutes looking extremely angry with the reply “ this pi-up no yos we dun steel um from de hospital”. Shit, now I was in the real crap, and these boys, who were no more than 13 years old were looking hungry and ready for a fight. The Dragon boys told me to ignore them and called them kids, which made them even angrier, and a roadblock instantly appeared with the Kalashnikovs and an RPG pointed at us. With guns on both sides and me being the cause I jumped into the middle, made my apologies to Lion and promised 20 litres of diesel in retribution for the “insult” caused by the false accusation. This was discussed and we eventually agreed on 40 litres, much to the disgust of the Dragon boys but at least calmed the situation down and we could return to base. The UN helicopter in the meantime had been hovering, watching the whole scene, and eventually turned away, obviously scared to land with all these weapons openly being pointed at an expatriate.

SCHOOL IN A BOX, AND SCHOOL REHABITATION. One of the most useful and helpful interventions that I was part of during my whole time in Liberia was the school-in-a-box program designed by UNICEF. The concept was to provide a box of school supplies consisting of all items needed to teach eighty children during a period of three to six months. This was especially useful in places such as Liberia where the schools had been looted of every moveable item and copybooks, chalk and even blackboards were non-existent. While in Monrovia attending the regular fortnightly NGO meetings amongst others, I was approached by the UNICEF education representative and asked whether we would assist them with the distribution of these boxes. As we by now knew exactly how many children there were and where they were I was only too pleased to be part of this program, even though my headquarters were not so keen, as UNICEF did not pay any overheads towards headquarter costs. Considering the fact that the reopening of the educational system would attract the refugees to return home I personally considered this to be an extremely

important intervention and put a lot of effort behind it. At the same time we were financed by our headquarters, through the Danish government, to rehabilitate the worst affected schools and to provide as much school furniture as possible. Together these two interventions managed to re-attract fifty seven thousand children back to school, which we could prove through our census’s that we conducted every six months. Considering that the UN troops were yet to establish themselves in the South East, that no UN agency was established in any of the three counties, and that the rebels were still officially in charge and still not disarmed, proves how incredibly useful and successful this kind of intervention was. The fact that the rebels were in charge was probably one of the reasons that the whole system functioned, for once the whole circus arrived, schools began to be “claimed” by different organisations and religions and the whole conformity of the UNICEF system began to break down. Here I must mention that with my twenty seven years of experience in Africa mostly in countries at war, this period of eight months where I lived and worked amongst the rebels, proved to be the most democratic I have ever had anywhere. When the UN helicopters arrived in Harper with UN reps doing their two hour assessments, in order to write a fancy report, it was always us who were there to make sure that the guns were hidden properly in order not to frighten them and to try and convince the outside world that it was safe in the south-east, and not as dangerous as everyone in Monrovia was claiming it to be. The difficulty in operating in the south east meant that whoever set up base there had to have an extremely effective and well organised logistics system. Without good contacts within the Ivory Coast, with whom the border was still officially closed, as we had, it would be practically impossible to operate, as all fuel and supplies came from there. The ferry across the Cavalla River had been blown up previously so the only way across was by canoe and when the river was in flood this was a very dangerous procedure. We had a vehicle on the Ivorian side so we regularly crossed to purchase our supplies, my wife and young child with their bright yellow life jackets sitting precariously in the local dug-outs. The local population became very close to us and treated us as one of their own. Eventually we constructed a huge raft consisting of sixty drums and a steel frame, which was capable of transporting our land-cruisers back and forth whenever needed. This was also used by the local population to cross their much needed supplies of rice and diesel, which at the time was non-existent in Liberia. At times our supply system also assisted in transport the seriously ill to the hospital in Tabou, until one person died in our vehicle on the way after which we stopped. The health system was non existent in the whole of the south east until mid 2004 when a small German organisation turned up and started out patient services at the Harper hospital. Every time I travelled to Monrovia this was one of my main priorities, lobbying for larger medical organisation to set up shop in the south east. Monrovia had by now many doctors and hospitals, as it was easy to control and re-supply, but none of them were willing or should I say, had the guts to establish themselves in an area where it would be so difficult to operate. They were also not at all willing to be assisted by another organisation which would, in their own eyes, reflect badly upon their effectiveness, vis-à-vis the donors. Eventually the UNHCR saw the logic in trying to create a few conglomerates of NGOs all over Liberia, in order to try an overcome the difficulties and assist each other. The idea was very badly received by many of the organisations as each one wanted to be the leader as usual, although in our area we managed to discuss and agreed within a few of us to try out the idea. To our surprise, after six weeks of negotiations and then travelling up to Monrovia to present the good results of their own idea to the UNHCR, by now another “rocket scientist” had been put in a decision making position and the whole idea had been discarded, so we were back to square one. The frustrations caused by the UN systems to the international NGOs are unbelievable and will probably never change, so those of you who read this don’t bother trying to change them; they see themselves as always

having the best solutions to all the problems, and because they are staffed by people who are afraid to make a wrong decision, no coherent decisions are ever made. When the UN system eventually arrived in force together with all the hangers-on looking for free hand-outs, was when the corruption and instability once again could be felt like a disease in the air. The commissions and the misuse of western taxpayers funds was so openly visible that it was sickening to see how international foreign aid has degenerated to such a degree, and even to the stage that it is increasing. Foreign aid has today become a huge business with certain organisations duplicating the actions of others, only in order to be able to spend the funds that they have been allocated. Donors do not want any funds to be saved and certainly do not want any funds in return because organisation x or y has managed to cut on their spending. Only one organisation still has a policy of working as cheap as possible and this well know world wide organisation is still the only true aid giver in my opinion. Medecins sans Frontiers is the only organisation that I personally would ever give any money to, and that to date continues to operate under standards that are honourable. This is probably due to the fact that they have the majority of their funds from private donors, but this should not be an excuse for the incredible waste that occurs within the other organisations. My anger at seeing how this whole aid world has degenerated into a money making industry paying huge salaries to those that do the least and so little going to the beneficiaries is the main reason that prompted me to write this book. The rock stars, industrialists and good will ambassadors that are always being shoved down the publics throats in order to make their hearts bleed more and empty their pockets of their hard earned salaries, should get off their comfortable chairs and spend six months in some war affected country anonymously, to see what is actually going on. Only then would they see the reality and maybe they would change their songs to face the real cause of all this poverty.

WORLD FOOD PROGRAM RICE AND FLAG WAVING In mid December 2003 I was on my last few days work before returning home for the Christmas vacations when one Saturday night at two-o-clock in the evening, seven trucks full of rice arrived on my doorstep. You can imagine my shock and fear, considering that the rebels had not had rice supplied since they took Harper in May, seven months previously, and were living on what they could get from the local population. When I went down and asked the drivers where this rice had come from they informed me that it had been sent by the World Food Program for our organisation to distribute. This was done despite the fact that we had no agreement with them, and despite the fact that they were fully aware of the fact that the rebels were screaming for rice and supplies, from the United Nations. It was only due to our close contact with the rebels that they did not instantly loot these seven trucks. The following morning I contacted my headquarters and informed them of the gravity of the situation and that by now the rebels had surrounded our premises and were hungrily eyeing the rice which was their staple diet. My headquarters contacted the World Food Program headquarters based in Rome and very soon I received a communication from the World Food Program in Monrovia begging me to do whatever I wished with the rice and that they would cover all the costs. I negotiated with the rebels and together we decided that this rice would never suffice for all the vulnerable groups, so we decided to send it up to River-Gee to the remaining population of the three massacred villages who were still living in the forests and had the most need. First of all one truck load was given to the rebels to appease them and then we placed two armed rebels on two trucks, informing the drivers that they would be doing the distributions for us as we had no other means of transportation. This was unfortunate as it meant that the drivers were being held against their will but they were well paid for their time and we had no other option at the time, as our own trucks had been previously looted and we could not allow the rice to be spoilt in the incessant rain.

This whole fiasco cost the world food program only five and a half thousand US dollars, and despite this they arrived to deliver the money to us in two UN helicopters, one with a vehicle to travel the 3 kilometres between the runway and our office and one to transport the two representatives, as their regulations did not allow them to travel in our vehicle! Here was another example of the incredible waste of money and planning that surrounds the UN agencies, and of the importance that they place in having their flag being waved ahead of any others. Only the cost of flying the two helicopters would have sufficed to pay for another fifteen trucks of rice, to supply to a population that had received no emergency food supplies for more than a year.

DOLLAR A DAY, STABILITY and numbers. When I returned in Early January 2004 we started a peace and reintegration program consisting of two components. The first was where we employed the rebels and the local population at a-dollar-a-day doing all sorts of community projects such as road repairs, digging temporary latrines, repairs to makeshift schools and community structures. This was financed by the Danish Government and gave us fairly free hands in choosing what to do in order to keep the peace. By now most of the weapons had already been returned to the Ivory Coast where they had come from in the first place, and the remaining ones were only in the hands of the leaders and commanders, so it was fairly easy to insist that no weapons would be allowed on the work sites. This was all done in consultation with the community leaders who were always approached in advance to give them a chance to let us know which projects they considered the most important. Together with the communities we held participatory meetings where everyone was allowed to have their say, which at time gave hilarious suggestions such as provision of gold digging tools or the provision of computers to communities who did not even have electricity. By now we knew through our continual monitoring of the situation in all the communities that the refugees were returning in large numbers from the Ivory Coast, even though this was vehemently being denied by the High Commission for Refugees who needed to justify their incredible spending on the support of all these fictitious refugees, and who continued to publish reports on the plight of these poor people. For diplomacy’s sake we did not make a big issue of the whole story and very soon we would also receive funding from the UNHCR which pleased both them and our headquarters who were receiving their seven percent overheads. Even though the UN or the transitional government representatives were yet to be put in place in the south east we saw by the huge amount of returnees that the reopening of the schools and creation of minor economic stability through our $-a-day component had created enough stability to allow a spontaneous return. When the United Nations cry publicly about the poor people in the third world living precariously on less than a dollar a day they are only trying to squeeze more funds for themselves from the societies where such low income is impossible to survive on. The very fact that most urban Africans have a small patch of land with some vegetables and fruit growing, allows them to live on less than a dollar a day, or nothing a day if counted in monetary terms. This fact though will never be admitted by the United Nations or the aid agencies as it would greatly reduce their funding and their overheads if the idea was accepted by the donors and tax payers. The second reintegration component consisted of more protective programs such as support to women’s groups and support to local non governmental agencies. These programs assisted in giving the local population a feeling of being more personally involved in the restructuring of their communities and country as a whole. We also paid a very small incentive of ten dollars every three months to around twenty thousand teachers, and assisted them in lobbying the central government for payment of their monthly salaries which was the paltry sum of twenty dollars a month. This eventually resulted in them being paid three months salary but after that it once again stopped and we had to restart the incentives in 2005.

TOOL DISTRIBUTION. Another part of our program was the distribution of farming tools to the farming population within the three counties of south eastern Liberia. This in itself was a large program and we did not have the funding to cover the whole region or all the farmers, as the majority of the population of around three hundred thousand people are subsistence farmers, who had lost their tools during the fighting or whose tools were worn out and no income was available in order for them to replace the badly needed tools, mainly machetes needed for clearing the land before planting. With the funding from the Danish Government we purchased tools directly from the factory in Ivory Coast and transported them by truck to Liberia, where they had to transhipped across the river in canoes and a raft that we had constructed to be able to move our vehicles across when needed. The Ivorian authorities were very collaborative and never gave us any troubles or charged us any taxes. At the same time the UNHCR provided us with funding for the distribution of tools in order to cover the shortfall. We suggested that they let us do the procurement in order to reduce the transportation costs, but this they would not agree too as procurement within the United nations is a holy cow that no outsider has any insight to or is allowed to disturb. They purchased the same machetes from the same factory in Ivory Coast; them shipped them all to Monrovia and shipped them down to Harper where they were delivered to us prior to distribution. This now meant that we were distributing the exact same tool to the farmers, although one was costing three times the amount as the other; absolutely mind boggling and when I pointed out the fact they only shrugged. By now the UNHCR had decided that they had to be the first to have a representative on the ground in Harper so they sent down a seasoned expatriate to stay with us while their base was being repaired. Although it had been completely looted as we all had been, with a bit of initiative it could have been ready for habitation within a few weeks, instead of the 5 months it took. We agreed to allow their rep to stay with us for a few weeks, and as we were preparing a guest house, in order to assist all the other agencies in setting up it was not seen as a problem. The “seasoned” rep turned out to be a person so used to being treated with reverent respect that she refused to leave my own residence as it was the only comfort that she would accept. Imagine my surprise when she moved in on a semi-permanent basis, drunk my whole supply of wine, which I had made the effort to procure from Ivory Coast, and lay on my sofa telling me that I had no class. I managed diplomatically to move her into the guest house where she immediately began to irritate the other members of the team who after awhile refused to have anything to do with her. The UNHCR headquarters in Monrovia also wanted nothing to do with her and asked me kindly to tolerate her while their based was being readied. Eventually we were forced to practically throw her out which caused us future problems down the line as she made sure that a wedge was driven between us and a sister organisation concerning funding and implementation of similar programs. Another very well known international organisation, which had been assisted by us in setting up and had stayed with us for a few weeks, also started a tool distribution in one of the areas that we were not able to cover. They came up with a hare brained idea of distributing farming kits which were to be shared amongst a certain number of individual farmers. We pointed out that generations of mistrust and jealousy would rend this whole idea useless and risked causing problems amongst the farming communities. Of course I was once again told that the experience they had was way above any advice that we could give them, being such a small organisation. After one week of kit distribution the trouble caused was followed by a small riot where their vehicles carrying the kits were looted and they soon went back to the individual tool distribution system. They were very unhappy about this and moved in next door to us where they could continually monitor what we were doing and always seemed to duplicate our actions in other areas of Liberia, followed by long internationally published

power point reports on the success of their actions. Laughable, but the waste of donor funds for the sake of increasing their own credibility is here again comparable to the United Nations. The original idea behind this once extremely credible emergency medical organisation is being spoilt for the sake of their desire to increase their funding, by their entering into other fields where funding is more readily available. Other smaller organisations also entered into the tool distribution component, which is easy to implement and difficult to control, in order to use their funding and many cases of supplication were observed but as usual for the sake of further funding and diplomacy nothing was said. Very soon we saw huge amounts of machetes being sold on the local markets and we decided to stop this difficult and sometimes pointless exercise.

UNITED NATIONS MILITARY ENTRANCE INTO THE SOUTH EAST. One early Sunday morning I awoke to a horrendous noise and outside my window I observed an attach helicopter, bristling with heavy guns, hovering, obviously trying to wake me up. The UN knew by now that I was the only expatriate based in Harper and wanted me to make sure that their first entrance into Harper and the south east would not be disturbed b the rebels, although if they wanted to I am not sure that I would have ever been able to do anything. Anyway I woke up and informed the rebel general that the MV Rotterdam was anchored offshore and that I understood that the quick reaction force, made up of Irish and Swedish troops was on it’s way into Harper: they agreed to meet it unarmed although the message never got around to all the soldiers as when they docked there were still armed rebel troops on the warf. We had arranged previously for our Monrovia based logistician to hitch a ride with the ship and sent a boat out to collect him. Our Boat was equipped with HF and VHF radio communications but approximately two to three kilometres from the ship all communications were lost and our boat was surrounded by zodiacs and instructed to return to shore, without our logistician. They were being very prudent, although what they thought the Liberians could do against their obviously superior fire power was beyond me. The next morning the landing crafts did a shuttle traffic between the ship and shore transporting the armoured vehicles and heavily armed troops to shore: you can imagine their surprise when the first thing they met was my wife pushing my daughter around town in her pram. When they passed my place I invited the Swedish soldiers, in fluent Stockholm’s slang, in for a cold beer. They were very taken aback and when they asked me where the rebels were, I replied that they were in the wrong place, their faces dropped and they accepted the offer of a cold beer. The same day I was forced by one of the rebel generals to buy stolen timber at exorbitant prices and with the forces on the ground I at last found the guts to deny the request which caused a huge commotion and the general proceeded to break the windscreen on one of our vehicles and threaten us with weapons. This gave the troops of the quick reaction force a chance to intervene which they did very effectively and a big thank you must go to the Irish soldiers who reacted very diplomatically and calmed us both down. By now I was at breaking point, having lived under pressure for a long time, sleeping badly, always listening for the sounds of shooting and the relief to see the forces of law and order was an obvious and visible relief. At the same time there arrived a military observer; lets call him Mystery, from Scandinavia but dark in colour and an ex child combatant himself. After having lived all of his adult life in Scandinavia he now represented them within the United Nations as an observer based in Harper. One of the first things he did was to stop the militia harassing the fishermen, by literally throwing the militia leader into the sea. That was the day that the guns stopped being visible, and was the first day that I relaxed completely. My family and I will always remember Mystery as the man who brought real peace back to Harper, and during the whole time that he was stationed there it was him who kept the peace and no rebel stepped out of line. He started the disarmament process and was the only one to ensure that only real soldiers were registered. The day he left Harper the disarmament figures more than tripled, to include

thousands who had never held a weapon in their lives before. Again another blatant example of how UN funds are misused.