2:36 in da morning has me awake, listening to the rain which has been pouring steadily for hours now. It may be the violently itchy ant + mosquito bites that woke me, or simply the fact that I drank three quarters of a mug of black tea just before bed.
Visiting Liberia has been an enriching experience so far, especially the part where ants donate their energies to my feet nearly every time I step into the courtyard. For the innocent among us: ant bites hurt intensely enough to give you shivers and turn any staid, steady person into a dancing speciman.
But, more seriously— walking the back alleyways of Monrovia, speaking to our neighbors in the courtyard, and hearing the stories of a country which has suffered tremendous atrocities, has impacted me tremendously. I didn’t mean to become so attached to the people here but I find I can’t help it.
Last week we trudged down narrow streets, past huge, black, fish roasting vats, and ended up at the sea. The beach was littered with toilet paper and other garbage, but the kids playing on the abandoned canoes brought my attention from the stench to their individual little lives.
But, of course, as is always the case with short term trips…i can ask questions and genuinely love them, but in the end i had to turn and walk away– just another statistical white skin who peeks in only to leave again.
It hurts every time.