heaving heavy burdens up hills

The Magistrate is a large man. Hefty. Not obese, but substantial.

And every time that I have to get him to do something, it feels like he's playing dead and I grab his feet and drag him up a steep hill - like the one to the Masonic Temple (where young buff men taunt me on their jogs "Come run with me!").

He is resistant, and why shouldn't he be? He has it very good - he makes a good salary for a Liberian, he does very little work, and he has a moderate amount of prestige. He wanders around warmly greeting people and gladhanding. He loves to laugh and is very garrulous.

And he's Making Me Nuts. Of course I'm also making him nuts, so that's fair.

Maybe nobody ever calls him out, but I do. "You don't get to make jokes. You haven't done ANY of the work. You have to sit silently." "I'm not your secretary. Take your own damn notes." "Make your own photocopy. I'm busy." "Stop talking off topic. I have other things to do and we need to finish this meeting."

This honeymoon is over. OVER. My true colors are shining through, and they smell like hard work.

I'm here until July, folks. Resistance is futile.

Because the thing is: for every lazy Liberian, there's a hardworking one. Just like everywhere! And the hardworking ones see me call the others out, and they smile. And they work even harder. And they appreciate me.

The thing about being The Grumpy American is that I can say what I see. If I'm always worried about being nice, I don't say what needs to be said. Like, "You've been responsible for this for nine months. You need to do it yourself and stop expecting others to do it for you. I'm not your mommy."

When I leave - whether this job, or Liberia altogether - I'll be remembered as a go-getter, and everybody will laugh about how I put them through the wringer but I worked harder than anyone, and we achieved so much.

Of course, all I have to do is walk to get that kind of recognition. I forgot my wallet - AGAIN - so left my bags at the restaurant and booked back to the office. Some random man in the parking lot, "Oh you are a strong woman! Look at how you walk! Oh, I love strong woman like you. Oh, your walk!" I don't even look back, don't break my stride. Strong women don't need appreciation - we just need to know that what we're doing is meaningful. And then we resemble steamrollers if you're in our way!