License to drive

At home, it is generally acknowledged that I am not the best driver. It’s not so much that I’m bad as it is I’m out of practice. I’ve only owned a car for one of the 13 years I’ve had a driver’s license, and I spent six years living in a city where driving is completely unnecessary. When I do drive, I notice that I spend a lot of time looking in the rearview mirror, so I’m aware of who is behind me and how close they are (you never know when you’ll have to stop short and I want to know how much leeway I have!). I am told this is a poor driving strategy.

In Monrovia, cars are very much a necessity, but they typically come with drivers, so I have been spared the exercise of getting behind the wheel. In all honesty, I really don’t think that my driving here would be a good idea. Despite some improvements in the roads (since we arrived in January, two major streets have been paved), there are multiple obstacles on each stretch of road here. Potholes are everywhere, and will only worsen with the impending rain. Manhole and sewer covers are missing entirely (although those tend to be things to watch out for while running or walking, rather than driving). There are no crosswalks or street lights, so pedestrians have to just make a run for it when they can – which means that drivers have to watch out for people darting across their path. When night falls, the lack of street lights adds another layer of complexity to road travel.

In order to manage all these challenges, drivers often end up snaking down a street, so that a trip that would take you 10 minutes on a more functional road takes you twice as long here.

Interestingly, last night we were driving home from dinner at our friends’ apartment when Alfred gently swung around a small bench someone had put in the road. He slowed the car down and was considering getting out and moving it, but thought better of it and drove away. He explained that during the war, bandits would place things in the street that would prevent vehicles from passing. Drivers would inevitably have to get out of their cars to move whatever it was and the bandits would take the car or the money and valuables that people were traveling with. He doubted that the placement of the bench had been deliberate, but didn’t want to take the risk.

Today, a few of us went to the beach for a few hours, and were joined by a friend who has lived in Liberia for seven years. He has a Liberian driver’s license, and was telling us about taking the written test. Apparently he only got 80% correct because he found some of the answers counterintuitive. One that he remembered being asked was “What do you do when you are approaching pedestrians who are crossing the street?” He didn’t remember all the options, but the correct answer was “Look in your rearview mirror to see if anyone is behind you.”

Frightening (and kind of excellent) that my driving instincts are best suited to Liberia!