The Kids, the Monkey and the Liberians

I am now living in a room that shares a courtyard with a school for youngsters, a monkey that is "bandy", and some Liberian refugees who drink gin at 9am.
The children are cute, I can hear them all morning yelling "madame! madame!" because they all know the answer and want to be picked. How the teacher handles all 40 of those 4 to 6 year olds I have no idea.
The monkey, or Booboo, I feel a little sorry for, he's all tied up and cries all the time at night. I give him bread and bananas, although i make Manamou hand the items to him as I am actually afraid to get to close. As Dayna knows and those of you who heard about the bad bad monkey in Agra, india can testify, I am not a monkey fan.
The Liberian are nice, they always ask me how I am and invite me to eat and drink gin if they have any to offer. I of course don't drink the gin but sometimes I'll sit and listen to them. It is sad to hear them talk about wanting to go home but they can't because home has nothing for them. One woman told me, "Before, I lived in Senegal and it is better their because the food is cheap. I came to Conakry because it is closer to home and Guinee is good because their is the freedom to walk around but food here is very expensive, so it's hard because we don't always eat. I want to go home and try to find some of my family but it is worse there, there is no food, no work, and nothing for me. Here, I must try to find a way to make money so that when I go home I might have something and make myself better. I would like to go to school, to make myself better but I don't think it possible. Someday, maybe I will go all the way home to America, that is where we Liberians are coming from before, and maybe I will be able to make money and send it to my family and we will all be better."