The sun shown brightly on the streets of Monrovia for our first full day of Liberian life. Burt (International Liaison, Inc.) picked us up, sharply at 10 a.m.
Our diplomatic tour began by gazing out of a taxi cab--as we traveled to the main campus of the University of Liberia. Shortly after, we were dropped off at the main gate of the administrative building. Promptly we were shown our office--which consists of a room, a table, three chairs, and ....? Oh, wait, yeah, there is nothing else. Apparently, Charles Taylor has our computer, reference books, and paper. I wonder if he will be shipping those to us from the Hague?
"Would you like some coffee," asked Burt I.L., Inc. "No, I'm fine, thank you Burt," I replied. "NO, have some coffee, it is the only thing I can offer you," demanded Burt. "Yes, I would love to have some coffee, thank you for asking," I mused, not wanting to further upset a fragile man in the mist of a caffeine crisis.
In the following awkward moments, I choked down the blend of coffee. During my gurgling, I wondered--was this coffee made with purified water? Does it matter? Oh well, I guess I was screwed when I walked off the airplane anyway, I doubt untreated water will make a difference at this point.
Following a terse chat on coffee and coffee exportation (don't ask--I have no idea why one talks about coffee exportation), Burt I.L. Inc. offered to give us a tour of the campus. We cordially accepted, and at once, he picked up an umbrella and shuffled us out of the room.
Soon, we were walking through campus and Burt began introducing us to students and insisting we were experts on International Constitutional Law. Now, I am not sure about my faithful readers of this column, but I think you would agree, I am not much of an expert in anything--let alone, Constitutionalism in Liberia. Within five minutes, I was to be giving radio interviews and soon would conduct a press briefing on the state of the Liberian constitution--to be delivered at noon, the following day.
Burt, I.L. Inc. then proceeded to introduce Stephan and I to the faculty. At this point, it became clear that Burt was not as well known as once thought. "Good afternoon, Gentlemen. May I introduce you to our visiting scholars from the United States," proffered Burt. "Yes, you may, but who may I ask are you," responded the English department. "Well, I am Burt, I.L. Inc. Actually, I am a member of the English faculty," responded Burt. "Oh really, I haven't seen you at our faculty meetings," jabbed the high strung lad to the right. At this point, I considered how well connected was Burt.
Following our brief tour--four hours and fifteen minutes by my watch, we were dismissed for the day. Our driver, who was hired by the University, headed for the compound. Approximately, 40 yards from the front steps of the administrative building we ran out of gas. Our driver pulled over to the side of the road--by what appeared to be a cafe. Seconds later, a man emerged with a pickle jar, filled with petrol, and a funnel. We had fuel. Now, it seems our driver could not cover the charge on his own. So, clearly, as one would expect, he pledged his cell phone as collateral for the debt. When asked his name, he responded Mohammad. Apparently, this was not good enough for the pickle petrol dealer, who then proceeded to walk behind our vehicle and write down the license plate number.
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