UN-flation and INGO-nomics

OK so I’ve indulged in yet another mini-break on the blogging front. Since my last post I’ve been back to my adopted home of Sweden, to a rock festival on a farm in Norway, visited a friend in Belgium and attended a regional meeting for my organisation in Kenya. Oh, and after all my years of trouble-free flying I finally got to test my knowledge of airline safety procedures by jumping down an aeroplane evacuation slide in the wake of an aborted take-off from the Ivory Coast. But don’t worry. I removed my high-heeled shoes first.

Anyway, I will now attempt to once again gather my thoughts and write something for your reading pleasure. Well, mainly for my own reading pleasure in a few years’ time when I look back on this experience but still, if other people are reading, all the better.

Today’s topic: the price of rented accommodation. I gasped when I found out that the hole in which I had been residing up until about a month ago was costing US $600 per month! I gasped even harder when I learned that the new place I’ve now moved into is costing US $1000 per month! It’s definitely not luxurious but I have a flatmate for company and it’s a marked improvement on what I was enduring before. For starters it’s connected to Monrovia’s small electricity grid so I don’t have to spend half the evening fumbling about in the dark. I even have 24-hour running water which is occasionally hot if the boiler is behaving itself. There’s also a living room and a proper kitchen as well as an air-conditioning unit that doesn’t sound like it’s about to blast off to the moon when I switch it on. However, the price of rented accommodation in Monrovia is comparable to most European capitals. I thought Africa would be cheap. Why isn’t it so?

In some senses you get what you pay for. Anywhere foreigners reside in this city is normally guarded and that security costs money. What’s more, water has to be driven in by a truck and electricity comes from petrol-powered generators so the high fuel prices also add to the tab. However, this really doesn’t explain why rent should be so high. But then when you think about it it’s quite simple. Most of Monrovia’s buildings were either severely damaged or totally gutted during the war. A couple of years later there’s a massive influx of foreign aid workers and there you have it – what I like to call UN-flation. UN missions typically bring in tens of thousands of ex-patriot workers with tax-free salaries who need a relatively comfortable place to live. On top of this you have the international NGOs (INGOs – development charities such as the one I work for) and all of their foreign staff putting upward pressure on rent levels. It’s basic economics: Limited supply and a sudden spike in demand meaning that we’re all paying the same (or much more in my case) as we would back home.

I’m not expecting any sympathy of course. I read in the newspaper today that 30,000 local residents were made homeless this weekend after heavy rains. That’s what happens when you live in a house made out of scrap metal and wicker in a country with the highest rainfall on the continent I suppose. Still, it is a curious phenomenon. There’s a dual economy, espeically when it comes to the housing market. Loads of new residential buildings are going up all over the city but who are they being built for? Not your average Liberian that’s for sure.

Of course, it would be nice if this newly established foreign wealth was being transferred into the pockets of local people somehow. Sadly that doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s true that the development aid money is financing a lot of things that wouldn’t be happening otherwise but it is hard for Liberians to tap into the bulk of the disposable income that ex-pat workers are spending on a daily basis.

One of the reasons for this is that most of the places where we foreigners spend our money are not owned by Liberians. For some reason unbeknown to me there is a thriving Lebanese population in Liberia (and indeed throughout West Africa). What’s more, the Lebanese own all of the hotels, bars, restaurants and supermarkets where the majority of people like me spend our money. However, I should point out that the Lebanese haven’t simply moved in to profiteer from the greenbacks that are now gushing in. They stuck it out through both periods of civil war and are now making substantial investments in an environment which most foreign companies would deem far too volatile. If they weren’t here then I’m not exactly sure who would be providing those services in their place. Most Liberians would have neither the capital nor the know-how to start-up and run these businesses. And even if the owners are foreign, they employ quite a substantial local workforce which is definitely a huge plus. Nevertheless, there are certainly a number of these risk-loving entrepreneurs who are making a tidy little earning (I’ve seen a couple driving around in Hummers for example).

Many of the proposals I have submitted recently have contained an element of skills training and support for income generating activities for the target beneficiaries. The recently ‘completed’ process of demobilising and rehabilitating ex-combatants also aimed to do just this but the question is how well equipped to earn money these people are after they receive such assistance. Many would argue that the training is typically too short to make much of a difference – we’re talking about a matter of months rather than years. Even if people do manage to gain some marketable skills there’s a very limited market to use them in. Another issue is the fact that huge numbers of people are being trained in the same thing e.g. carpentry. This may explain why the main street into downtown Monrovia looks like one long furniture showroom! Whether or not there is sufficient demand to absorb all of these sofas and armchairs is another question, apparently one that isn’t asked often enough though.

You might think that going back to school would be a better bet? Unfortunately even if you have a family that can support you while you do this there’s very little incentive to receive a formal education in Liberia. The public sector is more or less the only employer of educated people in the country and entry-level civil service jobs pay about US $50 per month. A security guard working for a development charity like mine can earn over three times that much without needing to hit the books. Yet another unintended side-effect of INGO-nomics.