It’s amazing to think that last year Asmi spent the holidays in Liberia, working with our partner organization to establish a teacher training program. The year has flown by, and Asmi has accomplished a lot! Ildi Sebestyen joined our board in April as our event planner, and helped us put on a successful bowling fund raiser in July, that will go toward our 2012/2013 partnerships.

Asmi Board of Directors

Click here to watch the Asmi Liberia Project Video 2011!

Special thanks to human@ease, Calexico, M Shanghai and Breucklen Gin for the awesome prizes. We had many requests to make this an annual event, so stay tuned for more!

Dear friends and Asmi supporters,

Our team is back from Liberia and we are excited to share the success of our first major international project, a training program for drama teachers in Paynesville, Monrovia.  More than 50 out-of-school Liberian youth participated in the five-week workshop facilitated by Asmi co-founders Danielle and Prentice.  Our team empowered six repatriated young people to lead local youth drama programs.  As teacher trainee Alex Kulah put it, “This [work] is mine now.  Even if I never see you again, no one can stop me from using these [skills] to change and impact my community.”

Asmi’s time in Liberia may have come to an end, but OUR work is far from over.  While continuing to provide support and services necessary to help projects oversees grow, we look forward to working with new volunteers and forming additional partnerships here at home.  We invite you to join us for an Asmi Open House on Monday, March 28 at 6:30 to learn more about future opportunities in New York City.

As always, thank you for supporting Asmi!

Love,

Asmi Board of Directors

To read more about the project in our March 2011 Newsletter and see photos, click here.

March 14, 2011

Asmi traveled to Liberia intending to facilitate youth drama workshops and conduct teacher training.  Like most collaborative efforts, we were uncertain what shape our curriculum would ultimately take.  Instead of entering our partnership with LYDIA with a rigid game plan, our team approached the work of empowering survivors with fluidity, allowing ideas to flow freely from both parties.  At times, it felt like we were setting out to do the impossible; we had just five weeks and host of challenges to work through.  But LYDIA’s desire to learn the skills needed to create and facilitate their own youth drama programs motivated us to find innovative solutions.

The first few weeks of workshops were really about getting to know each other.  LYDIA had already organized 30 young people in the community to participate in workshops, as well as six older participants to help facilitate.  The organization decided to focus on creating issue-based plays addressing social concerns like gender inequality, safe sex, litter pollution, and HIV/AIDS stigma.  The level of sophistication on display in the performances of the older participants made improvisation and play-making extremely exciting. Word spread through the neighborhood before long, and on several days audiences of more than 50 people gathered to watch the plays!  It became clear from the beginning that the six older participants were the best candidates for teacher training.  Together, we co-created a curriculum for the youth drama workshops, but our intention was to hand the job of running the drama workshops over to the trainees before Asmi left.

One of the most interesting aspects of drama teacher training is that the ability to read or write is not in any way essential for success.  Some of our teacher trainees were illiterate as a result of displacement during the war.  Despite this, they they emerged as strong role models, leaders, and agents of change through their strong instincts, energy, passion, and knowledge of play-making.

By week three, some participants began to wonder about the application of the work being taught.  We heard the question, “What can we actually DO with what we’re learning?” again and again.  As a result, the training group developed models for two different programs.  One was a weekly youth drama class, and the other was a theater troupe for older participants.  Both programs created a forum for dialogue within the community and a means of positive entertainment, where there had previously been none.

In the final week, the teacher trainees achieved a level of comfort and confidence leading workshops, ensuring that the work would continue after Asmi’s departure.   At the closing graduation ceremony, the teacher trainees shared with Asmi the pride they had cultivated in the program and the ownership they felt toward the work.  Before our departure, Asmi compiled and printed Teacher Training Handbooks that included all the exercises, games, and material we had co-developed over the five weeks, as well as new drama games and techniques they could explore on their own.

The issues facing Liberians are vast, and it will take many types of efforts to address the effects of the war.  But in our own way, Asmi’s partnership with LYDIA has strengthened bonds between participants, increased communication amongst a community, energized leaders, and helped individuals regain confidence in themselves and their futures.

How You Can Support LYDIA’s Drama Program

A modest budget is necessary to fund LYDIA’s weekly drama program in Liberia.  This money goes to pay for space, feed participants, and provide a small stipend for the teachers.  To raise this money, LYDIA is selling local woodcrafts from Liberia.  All profits will go directly to fund their Youth Drama Program.  If you are interested in ordering a unique and beautiful wooden Lone Star bowl ($30) or a mini pair of wooden spoons ($20), please contact CraftsFromLiberia@gmail.com.

January 6, 2011

Has the week gone by already? I guess there’s not too much time for reflection when you are either “ON” or dead asleep.

The beginning of this week was a difficult one – for me and for the participants. We hit those mid-workshop doldrums where the excitement wears off a little bit and fatigue/reality sets in. Understandably everyone missed Prentice, and it was an adjustment for people to get the hang of working with me solo. However, I can also proudly say that some serious breakthroughs were made!

The major transition this week was in my role as a facilitator with the large group workshops (Monday and Wednesday). Instead of leading with the teacher trainees, I stepped into the role of observer while the new teachers took control of the group. There were a couple moments when we co-led an unfamiliar exercise, but for the most part, they ran the workshops. The participants loved it, and the teachers gained confidence and ownership of the work. Teacher training days (Tuesday and Thursday) were extremely interesting because we started to get into the specifics of nuanced leading styles and adjusted the workshop structure to take into account cultural differences between America and Liberia. I learned three new theatre games from the other teachers to bring back to New York with me, and we became much more comfortable with each other. You know things are getting good when a whole room of Liberians have no problem making fun of your teaching quirks. We created a Peer Feedback structure to work with, and I gained some useful tips about how to better lead for the second half of the workshop. (Better be prepared to take it if you’re gonna ask, right?)

In spite of the drop in energy at the beginning of the week, we ended on a high note. One of the exciting developments that took place was on the “business side” of things. LYDIA and Asmi have partnered with a group of local carvers to create wood bowls and spoons to bring back to New York. The items are made from a beautiful red wood only found in Liberia and South America, and all the revenue that comes from selling these items will go directly to LYDIA and pay for their 2011 operating expenses. It was one of the ways that we could work with LYDIA and help them get started.

Jared, Camu, and I are off to a beach town called Robertsport for the weekend, and I look forward to sharing Jared’s photos with you when we get back.

Love,
Danielle

January 4, 2011

Monrovia has little-to-no tourist industry.  A growing number of surfers have started to travel to Liberia for its off-the-beaten-path charm and some amazing beaches, but for the most part you can place Westerners in one of two categories: NGO worker or prospector.  (More on the prospectors later.)  As a result, my initial interaction with Liberians here has been different than expected.

I came to Monrovia thinking that the experience of walking down the street here would be similar to the experience I had in Ghana.  In the capital city of Accra, I rarely went anywhere without being befriended by someone selling necklaces, woodcarvings, or other touristy knick-knacks.  Ghanaian men were especially friendly, and a few times, men even nominated themselves to be my “protector” or ask for my hand in marriage.  Only a repeated refusal convinced them that I wanted to continue my walk alone.  Monrovia is very different, however.  Given that most Westerners come here to work, the street vendors are much more casual about selling their items, and while men still say hello if I’m walking alone, I also sense a great deal of distance in the interaction.

To be fair, I have spent far less time walking around Monrovia than I did in Accra.  I have heard from numerous people – Liberians and Westerners alike – that Monrovia can be dangerous for women alone.  However, the biggest thing that has struck me as different is the reaction from the children.

Many children in Ghana knew that if they saw a foreigner, they should ask (or beg) for food or money.  Enough tourists had come before me to set the expectation that much of the time the children would receive something by doing so.  However in Liberia, children seem to be totally excited to just wave and say hi.  I have rarely been asked for a handout, and I can’t help but wonder if this is because of the lack of tourism.

I am not trying to say that Liberia’s lack of tourism is necessarily a good thing.  Given that unemployment is so high, tourists would bring a much-needed boost to the Liberian economy.  In fact, if the political situation here remains stable long enough, I am sure that Liberia will emerge as a tourist hot spot.  The delicious food, lush climate, and laid-back people seem to be a perfect fit for the adventurous traveler.  I have been amazed, however, by how unique (and sometimes downright odd) the Westerners in Monrovia seem to be.

New Year’s Eve is a big church evening for Christians in Liberia.  Many Liberians go to service from 10pm to midnight where they ring in the new year.  New Year’s Day is the national holiday when people have barbecues, go to the beach, and celebrate.   But this leaves the Westerners in a bit of a pickle.  What do they do on New Year’s Eve?  Enter an open-air club called Tides.  For the first time since arriving, Asmi (minus a sick Prentice) got down with the ex-pats at Tides on New Year’s Eve.  It was quite an interesting crowd.

Jared and I met Peace Corps workers, people who run NGOs in Monrovia, visitors for the weekend who work with non-profits in Liberia’s interior, and the most interesting of the bunch – the prospectors.  Liberia has a long history of a strong mining industry.  Since the civil war ended, the gold, diamond, and iron ore mining has started up again.  We met a few of these old-fashioned adventurers in the wee hours of the start of 2011.

The most interesting ex-pat I’ve met is a fellow called the Reverend.  He started as a gold prospector from America in the 80’s, but became a born-again Christian and returned to Liberia, this time to “mine for souls.”  He travels around the country showing Mel Gibson’s film “The Passion of the Christ” to outdoor crowds and converts people by the thousands.  Regardless of what you think of his mission, he feels deeply connected to Liberia and the people he has known here for over 20 years.

I am sure that the next time we come back to Liberia the situation with the ex-pats here will have changed.  As a country in transition with a huge election coming up next year, few people here have a solid idea of what the future holds.  We can only hope and pray that peace continues and the economy picks up.  Liberia and its people certainly deserve happiness and stability.

Until next time,
Danielle

December 31, 2010

For the past five years, I have been working with an organization in New York City called Opening Act.  Opening Act brings free, high quality theatre programs to some of the most underserved New York City high schools. While there are many organizations in New York that bring arts programming to schools, Opening Act, under the leadership of Suzy Myers Jackson, is exceptional for a number of reasons.  In relation to Asmi’s work, I want to speak about one specifically: teacher-training.

Not only does Opening Act provide regular teacher-training workshops for their teaching artists, but they have also built a solid curriculum for teaching artists to work with and a meaningful support network for teachers within the organization.  I believe this is a key reason why Opening Act’s programs are so successful.  In my time with Opening Act, I have not only learned how to be a teacher, but I have also become an experienced teacher-trainer.  The skills, while overlapping, are not necessarily the same.  Knowing how to train teachers is a skill set I find vital to Asmi’s work in Liberia.

This week marked the start of Asmi’s teacher-training program with LYDIA.  For three weeks, six adult leaders in the community will learn and practice the skills involved with creating and running a youth drama program.  Since there is no “standard” model here for this work, they are creating it from scratch with Asmi’s assistance.  The drama program is focused primarily on addressing social issues in their community, teaching conflict resolution, and building confidence.  LYDIA’s drama program will meet weekly and create shows to share with the larger community.  For the young participants, this program will provide a safe space to address the major stresses of day-to-day life in Monrovia.  For the teachers, this program was designed to eventually bring in pay.  However, this week I realized that I severely underestimated the impact this program would have on the teachers involved.

For most young adults here, finding a job is a near impossible task, one that is both frustrating and discouraging.  Besides going to high school or college (something which few can afford), there is a severe lack of positive outlets for these 20-somethings.  Unable to set goals for their futures, life can feel hopeless.  By learning new skills and building confidence as drama teachers, LYDIA’s teacher trainees have already started to see themselves as leaders in their community. It allows them to put their energy into positive outlets for the younger participants, and as a result, they can find a sense of purpose for themselves.

On Tuesday, we started the program by creating goals for ourselves as a group.  We also covered topics like: qualities of a successful drama teacher, the differences between playing games and leading them, and how to construct a class and 6-month program that flows and builds upon techniques.  I introduced three new exercises, and after playing them, the group split up into groups to practice leading the exercises.  Then, Wednesday’s large workshop was taught by three of the teacher trainees.  It was a huge success!  Thursday’s training involved feedback and dialogue about Wednesday’s class, more discussion, and learning four new exercises focusing on trust and teamwork for Monday’s large workshop.  Next week will be all about the teacher trainees sharing techniques, games, and playmaking methods with each other and me.

The six teacher trainees have been a delight to get to know. They are a dynamic group of intelligent, passionate, and inspired Liberians.  I have amazing stories about each of them, but I would like to leave you with an interesting conversation with one of the teacher trainees after Tuesday’s class.

This woman, in early 20s, had been unsure about joining the training program, but I wasn’t sure why.  In our first week in Liberia, she stood out as one of the most talented and intuitive actors in the room.  However, when I asked her if she would be interested in joining the teacher-training program, she looked worried.  We made a deal that she wouldn’t have to commit to the program until after the first class.  After Tuesday’s class, she asked to speak with me privately.  She explained that because of the war she had never been able to go to school, and as a result she could not read or write.  She was too ashamed to tell me initially, so even though she had given me a verbal commitment, she had planned on not coming to our first session.  Thankfully the other members of the training program, knowing her situation, convinced her to give it a try.  I thanked her for having the courage to speak with me and pointed out that as opposed to traditional teachers in Liberia, drama teachers need to have a different skill set.  They need social sensitivity, a passion for performance, and the ability to transform and create a safe space for their students.  The ability to read and write was a useful, but unnecessary skill, one that I was sure she could work around with the directors of LYDIA.  Her face broke into a huge smile, and when I asked her if she’d be coming back, she replied with an exuberant “Oh yes.  It’s fine, fine!”

I probably should mention that “fine” is a commonly used word in Liberia that in this context, I took to mean “an exciting process to be part of.”  It doesn’t get much better than that.

Happy New Year all!

Danielle

December 31, 2010

I got sick.  It’s Prentice.  Tried so hard to avoid it, but ended up in bed the past few days.  I ate some food out of a bowl that had just been washed with unpurified water, and “cleaned my plate” to please the cook.  Lapse of judgment.  I’m fine now though.  It sucks to have missed out on these past few days, but by all accounts Danielle and the workshops have been extraordinary.  I feel quite fortunate to be working with such a rockstar!

Today’s topic: Transportation

Getting from point A to point B safely was one of our biggest concerns on this trip (second to housing).  There are a few big car rental companies that provide a car w/ driver for $50-75/day plus gas.  I got one of them to pick me up from the airport and due to a special outgoing passenger (inbound international flights switch crews in Accra, land in Monrovia, and immediately continue back to their initial city of departure– Brussels or Atlanta), the owner of the company actually ended up driving me himself.

After meeting this guy and chatting with him about his business, I started to wonder how our money could be better spent.  He was nice (and Liberian–for those of you who are wondering), but the $2,000 we planned to spend would mean very little to him, and it’d be great to find a way to channel that money toward someone who can really use it (a “good” wage for the average Liberian is about $60/month).

One of the only solid contacts we had out here was Mrs. Moore, the mother of a close friend.  She was born and raised here, spent the past 20 years in the States, and moved back to Monrovia in October. Now she teaches at the University of Liberia’s Teacher’s College, training K-12 teachers for the profession.  She too needed to solve her transportation woes upon arriving, and fortuitously discovered that her “son” Camu made his living by driving a taxi.

Camu used to help her with her laundry and housekeeping back when she was in undergrad at Cuttington University in Central Liberia.  She brought him back to Monrovia with her, and he worked in her family’s home until the wars began.  Like many, he has worked countless jobs over the past two decades.  During the best of times he was a coal wholesaler and provided several of Monrovia’s neighborhoods with the fuel most commonly used for cooking.  During the worst of times he would walk the city for 14 hours a day, selling coal out of a wheelbarrow.  At points in time he also fled to the countryside and worked as a lumberjack.

Shortly before our arrival, Camu pawned his TV to get repairs done on his taxi.  Then his boss (and the car’s owner) took the car back because he wanted to let his brother drive it.  Camu’s TV is still at the pawn shop, and he was left unemployed.  Mrs. Moore had the idea that between her and Asmi, we could purchase Camu a new car.  She would have reliable transportation after our departure, we would have a dedicated driver who knows the city well, and he’d be able to continue driving a taxi, but as his own boss.

Camu has proved truly invaluable.  The pic above is my attempt to capture his essence.  The first time we went to see the Youth House, he turned off the main road and immediately started greeting people.  It was wild.  He literally knew half of the people in the neighborhood because he used to sell coal there.  That quickly let us know that he was definitely our guy.  Also, in prep for visit with Lydia’s parents, we didn’t know where we were actually headed until the day before. Danielle and I never bothered to ask the name of the village and all we knew was that it was a few hours away.  I asked Camu to chat with Lydia and it turned out that Sinyeah is his hometown too!  As soon as Lydia mentioned her father’s name, Camu remembered playing soccer with him as a child.  Mr. Mulubah would use his hands instead of his feet, and supposedly was quite good.

Couldn’t have worked out better!
-Prentice

December 28, 2010

I have heard very few survival stories since coming to Liberia. Most of the time, when people mention the war they share what happened to them before or after, but leave out their experiences during the crisis. Understandably, people want to focus on peace. However, the effects of the war are all around us. Buildings stand looted, rubble littered with trash is piled on street corners, and former soldiers missing limbs beg in front of stores. In conversation, most Liberians choose to talk about aspects of their country that they are proud of: the food, the music, and moving forward. The war is mentioned in passing, and until I met Mr. Mulubah, no one had gone into detail about it.

On Christmas Eve, Prentice, Jared, and I drove to Sinyeah, a small village in Bong County. The parents of one of our participants, Lydia Mulubah, invited us, and she accompanied us on our trip. The village was a good four hour drive from our apartment in Monrovia, and in an effort to save Asmi money (or keep us sweating), Prentice insisted that we keep the A/C off. The roads were not very good, but our driver Camu did a brilliant job of navigating the potholes, ditches, and motorcycles loaded with bags of rice and people. In spite of the thick dust, it was absolutely beautiful to get out of Monrovia’s urban haze and see open skies and tropical greenery.

Once in Sinyeah, we parked the car and walked about ten minutes on a hilly dirt path to get to Mr. and Mrs. Mulubah’s house. They originally built this house in 1985, before the war started, and as we later learned, reclaimed the house and land once the war was over. It was on a hilltop surrounded by trees. The compound had a modest sized concrete house and a large, shade-producing tree that grew in the middle of the yard space. Chickens, guinea fowl, and ducks ran around, and there were building supplies off to the side for an additional building on the property. Mrs. Mulubah met us as we got to the top of the hill, and we walked towards the tree where Mr. Mulubah sat in a wheelchair in the shade. (He was born physically disabled.)

Around a large meal of fish soup and fufu (a type of pounded cassava root); fresh oranges, bananas, and pineapple; and Fanta, Mr. Mulubah welcomed us with a formal speech. He thanked us for paying for Lydia’s school fees through her high school graduation. He told us stories of his life, and we met his children and grandchildren. He presented us with traditional crowns made of palm leaves. It was quite unexpected. Then he told us part of the story of what happened to his family during the war.

Lydia was born in 1990, during the war. As he told his story, Mr. Mulubah pointed out the places around us where his pregnant wife hid as bomber planes flew overhead.  He showed us where, as a toddler, Lydia and her mother ran into the bush as the rebel fighters attacked their home. Mr. Mulubah, however, in his wheelchair, was left behind. Mrs. Mulubah  and Lydia walked from their home in Sinyeah to Ivory Coast, over 150 miles away, not knowing if Mr. Mulubah was dead or alive. It was a terrible and difficult journey, one that Mrs. Mulubah was unable to describe to us. Back in Liberia, as their house was being attacked, Mr. Mulubah somehow managed to escape through a window and hide. Friends came for him and helped him get away. Years of no contact went by. Mrs. Mulubah and Lydia eventually ended up on Buduburam Refugee Camp in Ghana where I met Lydia in 2006. Then in 2008, Mrs. Mulubah returned to Sinyeah and discovered that not only had her husband survived but he was living in the same house they had built together, and where they live today. It was a pretty incredible story, and we could see just how proud Mr. Mulubah was to share his home, his family, and his story with us.

After some time, we said our thank yous and goodbyes, and began the drive back to Monrovia. I couldn’t help thinking how we almost didn’t go to Sinyeah at all. We were worried about fitting the trip in on Christmas Eve, and we also didn’t want Lydia’s parents to feel pressured to entertain and feed us. Once we got there, though, it was clear that this visit was more significant than just lunch. It was a meeting of worlds and an exchange of mutual respect. Mr. Mulubah said he’d been waiting for this moment for years, and we in turn were able to be witnesses to his life and story.

with love, Danielle

December 27, 2010

This is our humble abode. Our front window is just above and to the right of the City Builders sign (City Builders is the Liberian equivalent of Home Depot).

Finding this place was tough. The rental market here caters almost exclusively to diplomats and NGO employees. Most apartments require a one-year lease, and rents are comparable to NYC. Lucky for us–after a bit of pleading–one of the major real estate management companies was willing to rent out this place on Randall St. near UN Drive. Here’s the view from our balcony (most apartments have balconies because laundry is typically done by hand and dried outdoors):

The neighborhood is called Coconut Plantation and its one of the safest parts of the city due to its proximity to the US Embassy and UN. As far as feel goes, it’s kind of like living on Broadway in NYC’s Fashion District–tons of random shops, overwhelming during the day, and dead at night.

Like most buildings in this area, our place is owned and managed by a Lebanese company. It’s interesting how influential the Lebanese population is here in Monrovia. They seem to control the vast majority of the real estate and higher-end businesses/service providers. For example, our local grocery store, closest restaurants, cell phone company, and ISP are all Lebanese-owned. Remarkably, the Internet even registers our location as Lebanon.

Settling on our place was a tough decision. In the end it came down to our current place and another option in ELWA, a neighborhood named after the radio station that used to be there. It would have been a dream. Through a friend of a friend, we were offered our own two-bedroom house situated a few hundred yards from the beach and adjacent to a lovely family’s main house. Meals would have been included, and the place is about half the distance to LYDIA’s Youth House compared to Coconut Plantation. The cost of both places was about the same, but the family would have used the money to make improvements on their home, and we would have felt great about the fact that our money went to a Liberian family that rarely hosts paying guests. The catch: security.

The house in ELWA had no fence or security guard, whereas the place in Coconut Plantation is walled off w/ 24hr security. Other than that, it would have been perfect. Although the house is just 2 blocks away from the local police station, the neighborhood isn’t accustomed to receiving many foreigners–especially not our motley crew with over 6 grand in electronics.
Initially, Danielle and I thought we might give the place in ELWA a try, but I decided to seek a local’s opinion. I asked one of the employees at the place where I was staying at the time, and he responded, “If it was you and I, we can manage. The other ones, they don’t stand a chance. Once people know that someone with money is there… I would not advise it.”

The choice became clear. It’s a shame that the bulk of our money isn’t directly helping the local economy. It would have been great to live in ELWA, eat meals sourced from the local market, and watch the family reinvest the rent money into home improvements that would have primarily used local materials and labor. Instead, most of the money is going to Lebanese businesses, and despite the fact that they do provide Liberia with many desperately needed jobs, it seems as though the majority of the money stays within the Lebanese community (all the managers I’ve seen have been either Lebanese or from other Arab countries).

In my mind, our experience speaks volumes about the plight of other NGOs, and the struggles of a rebuilding nation. It’s possible that the majority of an NGO’s non-wage expenditures serve a foreign population rather than the people they intend to serve. Then, it’s tough for a country to rebuild when the majority of the incoming money does not necessarily trickle down to the common-man. There are essentially two separate economies, and a foreign population controls the most lucrative one.

Oh yeah, lodging. Financial ramifications aside, we’re confident we made the right choice. We just wish there was a better option.

What do you think? Is this situation unique to Liberia or common to other nations too? Any thoughts on Liberia’s potential future given this setup?

Reflectively,
Prentice