My Normal Routine

  My daily routine in Liberia is fairly simple. I rise in the mornings, around 6, and tend to hygiene in the comfort of the buckets (see right). The water rarely runs through pipe or faucet, but when it does I have to be prepared to catch as much as possible for storage in the large white barrel. I imagine it holds about 40 gallons.
  Bathing is a matter of wetting oneself with the dipper, soaping up liberally, and then rinsing with the dipper. The green bucket is where I put water so as not to unduly contaminate the white barrel with soap, etc. I confess that some days I heat up some water and mix it with cold in the green bucket. I prefer a lukewarm rinse to the bracing cold.
  The purple/yellow bucket I use for flushing the commode. Water is precious, so I have to decide when flushing is a necessity and not a luxury. (I know, too much information for some readers.)
  When school is in session I attend the morning assembly at Rick Institute. The end of my first week coincided with the end of the first semester. For two weeks the students will be away and I will be rising with the roosters and not the alarm clock. And, yes, that is a literal comment. The campus is the roaming place for chickens, goats, dogs, and cows. The roosters greet the dawn vociferously. It is hard to sleep past dawn.

  To the left you see my workspace. It took me a few attempts to get it right. In front of the desk/table is a bank of windows facing West. Ambient light most of the day allows me to work with ease. Although it cannot be seen, there is a light fixture on the wall above the box fan. I was relieved to find that it works (there is a matching fixture on the wall behind my chair that does not work). When it is overcast, and always in the evenings, the energy-efficient fluorescent bulb--yes even at Ricks--provides good light for my poor eyes.
  The box fan is my friend. Most days the heat and humidity requires me to change shirts two or three times. I am tempted at times to sit naked . . . . In the cool of the mornings (use your imagination to discover "cool" and "mornings" six degrees North of the Equator) and in the evening after sunset the fan pulls in fresh air.
  My work is regular. In the mornings I hope for a strong connection on the USB modem so I can correspond as needed and, too, check on news at home and around the world. That usually takes place while I boil water in preparation of making Liberian coffee. (If you've not had Liberian coffee, you should try some.)
  Next I review what I accomplished the previous day. I revise notes that I made from my readings. Then I decide what to take up next.
  My explorations of Edward Wilmot Blyden (1832-1912) include a dozen or more primary source pamphlets, a helpful anthology of his writings--some of which are abridged from the other materials I have. I read them all. I compare the full texts to the abridged texts in hopes of muting the influence of the editor(s). I also have Blyden's most complete and intriguing work, which he wrote late in his life, Christianity, Islam, and the Negro Race. I am passing familiar with that work and, as I read the earlier works with the memory of where Blyden lands. For example, early in his amazing vocation Blyden used "negro" exclusively. Then there is an essay that includes a bombastic critique of the lower case in the writing of white missionary; Blyden considers it an affront on the Negro race.
  I also have with me some secondary materials relating to West African politics and history, specifically an investigation of the sources for the Pan-African Movement, which builds mightily upon Blyden's careful construction of race nationalism in Africa. And, too, I have the last critical review of Blyden's life and work, Edward Wilmot Blyden: Pan-Negro-Patriot (Oxford Press, 1960) by Hollis R. Lynch. Finally, I have a dense history of the American Colonization Society that is a trove of cited primary materials from the likes of Henry Clay, Francis Scott Key, and a host of lesser-known advocates for the repatriation of freed slaves to Liberia and elsewhere in West Africa.
  Midday I break for lunch and walk 1/4 mile to the house of my host, Olu Menjay, where I am served a Liberian meal. Usually that meal holds be for the day.
  After lunch I nap. Then I return to the tasks described above.
  I do try to break up my day. I may invest my morning in a 30 page essay/speech--recall that in the 19th century public addresses were quite involved! And aside: Blyden's rhetoric often enthralls me. His use of language, his ability to craft an image, his broad learning, all keep me alert. His remarkable language skills challenge me. This morning I read an Independence Day Address, delivered in 1865, that included Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and German--almost always citing poets or historians. The afternoons are less focused. I'll chase a rabbit or two . . . .
  My evenings give me a chance to look away from my task, if I so desire. I write blog entries, for example. I have other writing projects to which I devote a few hours. I have correspondence and--unfortunately--administrative tasks to attend. An aside: The joys of the Internet and Cell Phone are soured by the connectedness to what I have tried to leave behind.
  And, too, I confess that I packed three biographies (Mickey Mantle, Jackie Robinson, and J. Edgar Hoover) that I had begun reading last year in the throes of my malaria adventure. Now and then I take a break from the 19th century and feed my hungry mind on the character of notable people.

  Without looking at the clock, I retire when I feel like it. What I mean is that I don't have a bedtime. I do look at the clock when I head back to my sleeping quarters, but only out of curiosity. Sometimes it is early--9p. Other times it is approaching midnight. I guess it depends upon the length of my naps.
  I sleep in a wooden twin bed with a thin mattress on a plywood base. This is the first time I have come to Liberia that I sleep under a mosquito net. My malaria adventure will always be fresh with me. I use a fan most nights, but the last two have been cool enough to forgoe the fan. My corner room allows for a good breeze, which contributes to good sleeping.