Definitions

I'm a week deep in Sierra Leone, so this should probably be the last post I make about Liberia. I can't help that the country has a bit of a hold on me, and eventhough I am loving Sierra Leone, I have to give a farewell entry to Liberia after nearly two weeks away from the Internet.

Liberia made its impression on me in a number of ways. It's essentially a land defined by destruction. Liberians are rebuilding everywhere, so you could say it's also a place defined by reconstruction, but this would hide the signs of the war, which are apparent everywhere. There are a few new cement houses, but the majority of people in Tubmanburg and Robertsport, towns very close to Monrovia, are still living in shacks pieced together from corrugated zinc, rusting desert tracks, and palm leaf. Many are without even that and just squat in ruined, pre-war skeleton houses. The wrecks without squatters are overrun with vegetation, as the jungle slowly retakes what it lost when civilization conquered nature.

In some of these places, the land has grown up too thick for much exploration, all but obscuring concrete walls and twisted rebar. Other places, however, for one reason or another, haven't been overtaken, and they stand out as beautiful broken shells, ghosts of a fabled past. I've explored a variety of these, mostly small churches and one-story houses, but perhaps one of the best I've found is in Robertsport: St. Bethany's School for Girls, the jewel of ruined beauty in provincial Liberia.

The school is a massive boarding house set on a steep hill overlooking all of Robertsport and Lake Piso. For those of you who are curious, Robertsport was once a gem of West African beach getaways, boasting some of the best surfing and the most pristine beaches in the area. I was awestruck by the school when I saw it from the town's mayor's office and knew I had to explore. The staircase up the hill is cracked and parts of it are missing completely. I had to scramble over the broken masonry to get up to the main building, only to realize the grand hall's floorboards were pulled up long ago, leaving only the supporting beams. These were still solid enough to provide access to the rest of the classrooms, cafeteria, and dorm rooms however. I spent a good hour up there photographing the building and longing for a camera with a better lens and more shooting options, but as it was, my time spent in this ruin really brought home how much Liberia (or at least the Americo-Liberians) had before civil war tore the country apart.

The people of Liberia are in large part defined by this war, and how could they not be when they're still surrounded by its aftermath? Many people's lives were completely disrupted for years at a time as they moved from place to place without a home, escaping the destruction. I think of my own life: twenty-three years living in a developed country where the worst violence I ever experienced was the occasional beating in junior high (it's a hard life when your mother's a teacher). How would I have survived rebel incursions which started when I was six years old and lasted until I was twenty? All those years, I was at school in Carroll County, Indiana. One school, one home, and the occasional spring break trip to Georgia. What would I have had after fourteen years knowing nothing other than violence and fear?

The short answer is that I would have had nothing. No education, no health care, certainly very little food and even less by the way of a normal life. But if living and working in Niger for two years has taught me anything, it's how remarkably resilient people are. This isn't to say that there's nothing wrong with being exposed to the occasional horror like that of Liberia's civil war. No one should have to experience something like that. But we do have to admire and respect those who have come through such an evil time and not let it destroy their future. Because above all, Liberians seem to be defined by their resiliency and their hope/faith in the face of the great challenges they've been through.

This hope is, in the end, what defines Liberia for me. There are probably some who live or work there who may disagree, but this is what I've taken away from that country. I guess if you can survive something so terrible, you can survive nearly anything. Entire communities were uprooted and tossed like chaff to the wind, displaced by violence and a fight that wasn't theirs. They ended up as refugees in Sierra Leone, Guinea, Ivory Coast, even as far as Ghana and the United States. Slowly, they've made their way back and are looking for those places torn from them by war.

On my last night in Liberia, in Robertsport, I met one of these amazing young people who will be one of the standard bearers for the future. I wish I could remember her name, because I was so taken by her drive and determination. She was one of those who at 17 has already done more and been through more than I may ever do. At 25, I felt a bit like I'd wasted most of my life. She was taken out of a refugee camp in Ghana at the age of four, and now, at 17, she seems to have all the resources and the will to do great things. She wants to be a fashion designer, to start the first teen magazine for girls in Liberia as a way to promote women's empowerment. Most young girls don't have access to any kind of magazine meant specifically for them. One may ask, "How does this help a young girl who may worry about ten thousand other issues the average Liberian confronts everyday?" Well, I think that anything that can lift up a young girl and make her feel pride in her people and herself can't be all bad. It sounds like an interesting project, one among many ideas this girl wants to put into practice. She, and others like her, are the future of Liberia, of Africa, and, quite possibly, of the world.

Addition: The Internet, is quite possibly, good for everything. The girl's name is Lovetta, and you can find out more about her here:

http://www.strongheartfellowship.org/akawelle/Designer.php

http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/12/22/o.gifts.that.give.back/index.html