Farewell

I’m torn between wanting to write and write and not wanting to say much at all. All I seem to be able to string together is “I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow!”

When I look around I’m struck by how quickly Monrovia has come to feel like home. The rhythms of the city are familiar. Local greetings are now my own. Liberia is so different from any place I have known, yet after only seven months, I sometimes forget I have lived anywhere else.

To be fair, each day is filled with challenges and frustrations, and they tend to recur or grow because there is no way to escape the realities of living here. However, the joys and achievements and rewards experienced here mean even more, given the obstacles people have to overcome to realize these successes. It takes a strong, determined person to work hard and follow rules in a country where all systems are being rebuilt and nothing is guaranteed. Everyday citizens are rebuilding Liberia day by day, simply by carrying on.

Today has been wonderful because I have shared every meal with friends. This morning, Alfred came by early to take me to work so we sat down, ate scrambled eggs, and talked about my return home. I always enjoy our time together, and I’m grateful we had a few minutes this morning to catch up. This afternoon the department I work for at the Ministry held a lunch in my honor. There was singing and dancing, kind words of thanks, and I was given a new Liberian outfit! I am going to miss my friends and colleagues at work, particularly the time they would take to ask me how I was doing and what I was enjoying about Liberia. And tonight I went out for dinner with a few friends from the foundation. I insisted on saying, “I can’t believe I’m leaving!” every few minutes, but other than that it was a normal night out. (Side note: it rained all day and because most Liberians find the rainy season cold, our driver Joseph was wearing a parka and I LOVE NY ski hat when he drove us to dinner. I wore a tank top.)

When I walked out of the office today, I realized I may not see my Liberian colleagues again. There are lots of people I see infrequently or maybe once every few years. But in today’s world of infinite possibilities and “if you want it badly enough it will happen” mantras, it is hard to really conceive of leaving someplace you have become familiar with and people you have shared a piece of your life with knowing you may not return.

However, I think many of us have built connections here that we will work hard to sustain. It would be nearly impossible to come and work alongside Liberians and simply close the door on this experience when you leave. I am grateful for the opportunity to have lived and worked here, to have shared those aspects of life and relationships that transcend culture, to have dipped my toes into new surroundings.

Not all Liberians are of one mind regarding assistance provided by expatriates during the rebuilding phase, but I want to share a note that one of my friends received from a Liberian colleague, which really moved me:

As you return to the United States, look back, remember we remain united in the cause of humanity. I hail you for the courage to have traveled to the unknown. I can safely assume you have a different story now. Go well, for you have contributed immensely to a country and a people recovering from years of war.

He is absolutely right. I definitely have a different story now.

Lofa!

Earlier this week, I joined a few colleagues for a trip to Voinjama, the capital city in Lofa county. Lofa is in northeastern Liberia and it borders Sierra Leone and Guinea (http://www.humanitarianinfo.org/liberia/mapcentre/reference/country_pdf/LIB001Counties_County%20Capitals_Districts_20040319.pdf)

The first three hours of the trip are on paved road (not without a good amount of bumps and potholes) and the last five hours are on dirt roads. I took some Dramamine as a precautionary measure. The condition of the roads tends to be worse in the rainy season, and even though we bounced around a lot, I’m told we were traveling on one of the better paths in the country.

As we drove north to Lofa I was struck by how green everything was! There were farms and ponds and thick forests, and it was obvious that we had left the city far behind us. Voinjama has lots of hills, and it was wonderful to take advantage of them and walk, run or hike on our own! The stores and restaurants that we saw looked quite similar to those in Monrovia, accompanied by the same signs advertising a long list of items you can purchase or consume inside (a list like: soup, pepper, concrete, zinc, and batteries is not uncommon).

Our driver, James, grew up in Voinjama, although he left during the war when fighting got too intense. He took my friend Meredith and I to his family’s village. Of the nine houses that his father had constructed there, only two remain. James showed us the school he went to and the business his father used to work for. I could tell by the way he described his childhood that he had really enjoyed it, though when war came in his teens it changed everyone's way of life.

Lofa was particularly hard hit. Fighters frequently crossed the borders in and out of Liberia from Sierra Leone and Guinea. Today, there is a new hospital in Voinjama and many international NGOs have a presence there. Voinjama felt quite peaceful and I couldn’t really imagine intense fighting happening there, although we saw enough ruins to remind us. One building we passed at an intersection was absolutely riddled with bullet holes. I think it’s a small grocery store now.

I really enjoyed the people of Lofa. Outside of the NGO presence, cars aren’t particularly common in Voinjama, so wherever we went, people stopped to stare and wave. Some children would cry out, “white women! white women! white women!” when they saw us, and we did make a couple of babies cry…but I suppose that is to be expected. We definitely look like strangers to them. It will be strange to come home and just blend in again. Where’s the fun in that?