Curious case of an Indian Whymann...

Central Office - The place where I work in Liberia

Front view of my company's Central Office

After writing my first blog I wasn’t sure if readers would like it. I was planning of writing it regardless since this was going to be my online journal, but it really feels nice that a lot of folks actually appreciated it. So a big thank you to all who responded with your comments, keep providing suggestions as to how it can be a worthwhile reading experience to you and I will try and incorporate it into my blog.

View of the vast rubber farm from Lionel's house

I start off this blog with a few pictures of the head office which houses most of the administrative departments. It's called the central office here.

As I arrived for the first day at work here, there was an extremely unpleasant smell permeating through the air. I knew it was something to do with the rubber since the factory is about 500 meters from the office building, but not being sure I asked the security guard what that was and he replied “It’s the smell of MONEY, Sir!” Upon checking with our estates specialist it seems that when the rubber is harnessed from the tree, it’s in a while liquid state (called latex) but leave it in the open air for a while and it reacts with air and the bacteria starts eating the carbohydrates in the latex and that reaction causes the unpleasant odor. The building is pretty basic but it serves the purpose well.

View of Harbel Hills from Div 43. Some of the staff
houses can be seen at the top of the hill

Lawrence and I on one of our few
tarmac roads: Lawrence works at our
Garage facility for heavy equipment

Though I report directly to the controller I work extensively with the Accounting Manager, Lionel (spelt as Lie-o-nel and not Lee-o-nel of the Argentina and Barcelona fame) and he asked if I would be interested in going biking through the dirt tracks within the rubber plantations. So, I armed myself with my camera and set off with Lionel and his Filipino buddies (Lionel is a Filipino).

The biking team

Since Lionel is a collector of bikes, I did not need to worry about a spare bike. We biked for a couple of hours traversing about 12 kilometers (around 7.5 miles). Most of the ride was through a maze of dirt roads surrounded by rubber trees. I made sure to stop by and catch a few shots on my way and it was a superb view with green cover everywhere I looked.

Excited to see us...just check out the expression
of the kid on the right

Perhaps the most interesting part of the ride was traveling through camp sites which are small housing complexes that are build by Firestone for the employees and their dependents. Each camp is almost like a small hamlet.

As we passed through these hamlets, we had little kids run from their houses waving to us and shouting something that sounds like “whymann”.

Rushing out of their houses to wave and run along with us

At first I did not realize what they were shouting but I proceeded to give a running high five with the kids as I passed them by. Some even ran with us for about 200-300 meters. Lionel then looked at me with a grin and asked if I knew what they were shouting and I said no. He explained to me that the “whymann” actually meant White Man.

I was amazed by that because I have never been called a “White Man” and here I am an Indian with a few Filipinos and we were called as “White Men”. Now, that I sit to write this blog, it's interesting how exposure to different races gives you a different perspective on race. Most of the people in Liberia (at least rural Liberia) unfortunately have had so little interaction with the outside world that practically anyone who is not black and looks and acts different is a white man.

Picture with the kids towards the end of the bike ride

Hailing from India, I can see parallel shades after my eye (and mind) opening experience of biking. India is culturally and economically very different from Liberia but similarities exists on a much lower scale due to the lower exposure to different cultures in India (at least when I was growing up a few years back). Growing up, I remember us categorizing people into basically 4 categories of races, people that look like us desis (brown), gora (white), kallu (black) and chinki (chinese). Was that racism...I don't think so. It was probably just a way of addressing somebody who looked different from us - not too dissimilar to calling another kid fat or skinny. We were probably too young to even know what racism meant.

Having lived in the US for the past few years and traveled to different countries, I feel fortunate to have been exposed to different cultures and races. This interaction has certainly allowed me to appreciate the differences in and among the peoples of this world but then it also made me realize how similar we infact are…!