If I was Tomorrow

                                   We are the core!

The more I learn about the core issues surrounding the commencement of one of the most brutal civil war in the world, the more I strive daily not to repeat the mistakes of my forefathers. There were several reasons for the Liberian civil war, but I concluded the core was our distaste for each other, and our failure to love our country. 

The past is the past most people say, but the lessons of the past is an intricate part of how we advance our future. In a country, that exudes violence, maintaining an attitude of tranquility is hard. How can we sustain peace when 60% of the youth population does not have the skills, or the resources to become participatory citizens? 

Liberian youth were dealt an unfair hand; however there are many who excelled, and are excelling irrespective of the debauch environment they find themselves. Every human has an innate ability to be great should they strive to be. Yet we can not negate the need for an enabling environment to allow youth to strive. Liberian youth we need to stop using the past to justify our idleness…..

If I was Tomorrow

If I was tomorrow….

I will tell yesterday it slowed me down,why hissing my teeth.

Allowing malicious war lords to penetrate my sanity.

Using me as pawn in a game I could never win, nor understand.

Infringing on my basic rights, why their children were bombarded with lifetime opportunities.

If I was tomorrow….

I will scream in the faces of my forefathers, WHY?

Why did they stand by for “others” to take away the essence of who I am?

Why is the same "old thing" accepted today?

Why saying NO to the status quo means societal exclusion?

Why today when I stare in the mirror, I can barely recognize the features I should have inherited?

If I was tomorrow….

I will stop asking questions and start finding answers.

I will stop sulking in self pity and start looking for opportunities.

I will stop blaming the “others” and start taking responsibilities for my disposition.

Hell, with it! why wait for tomorrow, I have today!

Refuge

At the age of three years, we left Monrovia to seek refuge in Lofa from the war.  My mother, aunt, cousin, and I walked for four hours to get there. Considering our age at the time, they did most of the walking for which today I am grateful for.  We arrived welcomed by grandmother’s family. My great grandmother Gayduo, several grand aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. Given my age at the time, I have limited memory of my time spent there.  However, the little I do remember intrigued me to return for two reasons. 1) To prove my memories right after so many years of living outside of the country and 2) learn more about the place my extended family call home.

On our way to Fessibu

Fessibu, Lofa County

Yes! I returned to the place I sought refuge.

Refuge from hunger that gaged others to eat one of their own.

Refuge that shielded me from watching babies gutted out of pregnant women.

Refuge that helped me sustained my sanity.

Refuge that brought me back to Liberia.

As I ran to the foundation that once protected me from the evils of the world, the chill breeze swept by leaving me with a kiss from Gayduo my namesake. I knew I was being welcome again, by the woman who business swag educated over fifteen kids.

I stood on the foundation of the house, and I saw faces smiling back at me, allowing me to reminisce over the little I remembered, running tiredly down a hill to a place I no longer recall after a game of hide and seek. Skipping through a dark hallway, stopping for a taste of Fufu, and Palava Sauce at each room door. Hiding from the so-called country devil that came out when kids were behaved bad. I remembered the feeling of the sand between my toes, as the ground I stood on was once a sanctuary for games like hopscotch, lapa, jumping ropes, and around the world, games we played.

Once a home, now a dome

As I walked away and saw faces I no longer remembered, but I once ran to for refuge, I knew I was walking away from something. I had longed for the moment my feet will touch the soil of Fesssibu for so long, and as I walked away from the happy faces that greeted me, I wonder …is Fessibu still a place of refuge?

Still shock by what I saw

Lofa County was one of the most productive counties in Liberia, producing minerals and coco for export. Today towns are plaster with signs of NGOs showcasing projects they are implementing. Yet, with all the ongoing, and completed programs one cannot see the physical results they are yielding. As I drove away a little boy ran towards the car to ask for “lil something” in Liberia that means money, explaining through grasping breath that he needed to buy food for the day.  With the experiences I have had in the past given money to young men on the street could be potentially dangerous.  There is a 50/50 chance the money will be use for food, or drugs.  Thus, I have created my personal method for determining who I should give “lil something” to, and who I shouldn’t ( a bias method I must say). Making a quick judgment based on his appearance I came to the conclusion that if I give him any money it would be used for drugs. Consequently, I left him staring after the car with anger and sadness fusing out of his eyes, after I explained I could not help him.

As we drove away from Fessibu it became obvious the place that was once a safe haven for me, possesses new terrors for others. Terrors perpetrated by the errors of decisions makers since 1847. Un-rational, unethical, selfish, power-driven decisions executed in the interest of few, is now hunting a generation fighting daily to ensure tomorrow does not come. How do we make Liberia a place of refuge?

To view more pictures click here

Women Weaving Center of Vonjamah, Lofa County

Mrs. Dorbor giving an interview

It was a sight to see, creativity to admire, a concept unexpectedly stumbled upon, and proudness exuded from our faces to know she was a Liberian. Esther Dorbor grew up with a skill that manifested into a tool for social change. On my way to Vahun, Lofa I stopped in Vonjamah fascinated by a beautiful monument alongside the road.  After a short walk to the monument, I was soon fascinated with what was happening left of the monument. I recognized the act as I remembered visiting a similar site in the Philippines. Compare to what I saw in the Philippine this structure was simply making it more intriguing. It was the simplicity of the structure that captured my attention.  From afar I noticed the women were hard at work, concentrating intensely on the work at hand.

Monument that 1st attracted my attention

A program participant setting up to weave

As we got closer, the products produced by the Women Woven Center of Lofa blew me away.  As I touched the fabric I declared it was the finest texture of cloth I have touch in Liberia thus far! The colors of the fabric were brilliantly combined to make a fabric in Liberia known as the ” Country Cloth”.

Purchasing some of the cloths made that day

Esther Dorbor moved to Vonjamah when she married. She and her husband wanted to do something for their community. They noticed men were leaving their women due to the fact most women could not assist with sustaining the home financially, thus the burden was becoming unbearable for the men.  

Esther's husband asked her if she could teach the women the skill she had learned, that made her self reliant most of her life. Together they started a program to teach local women free of charge how to weave the Country Cloth.  The women have six months to learn, after which they can go out on their own and produce. Due to limited funding, and a large number of participants, students have to quit the program after six months in order for others to participate.  They are currently using funding from previous sales to sustain the program. 

However, their biggest concern is acquiring funding that will enable them to teach the women longer, and host more participants. The " Country Cloth " is only made and produced in Liberia. The fabric can be made into anything from clothing, bags, or use for interior designing. Visit (ARWAY BAGS ) for examples.

My eccentric sister dressing up her pet pillow with hers

Excited with my new accessory !!!

As we move towards a new Liberia, I hope more women choose to be at the front line and not on the side regardless of the difficulties they confront. As women participation is essential to Liberia prosperity. The Women Weaving Center of Vonjamah mass produce, therefore if you want to contact the Women Woven Center of Vonjamah to assist them with their cause, or purchase some beautiful pieces from them they can be reached at (231) 088-069-1849/ (231) 088-685-9608.

New Year Old Problems

As the new year settles in I have been pondering these two subjects extensively lately.....

Youth Disparity

I realize it took over fifteen years to destroy Liberia, and it will take longer to rebuild. Yet, I hate I am bombarded daily with the ills of my society. Knowing in the depth of my heart there is little I can do to change it, and the little I do does not make the intended impact. Liberia was inhabited land of my ancestors; I will not give up on it. Change is coming, and I hope it is inclusive….

I’m Too Young To....

I grew up knowing I was a child of King Zulu Zumba.

My forefathers were gatekeepers of the land.

My mothers had the last words. 

I learned and understood the meaning of life through the Sino and Poro Bush.

My forefathers were strong, independent, and enlightened.

They cherish the land, and the fruits that sprout from its tender soil.

I lived in a home of discipline, love, and precaution.

Today, I am a child of survival. I live a life of destitute.

I live in a home of self-reliance, and inflated pain.

The soil beneath my feet can attest to my struggles, and frustrations as I pound it left to right trying to regain all I have lost.

I wake daily to dread the mornings, afternoons, and nights.

The mornings commence with the unknown.

The afternoons are reminder of my self-reliance.

The night helps me escape from my inflated pain to the days of my forefathers.

I dream of my future…...… I am discipline, love, and enlighten.

Moments of Serenity 

Infidelity

The first twelve years of my life I grew up thinking I had the perfect family, only to find out nothing is perfect. I never saw my parents argue (true to this day), I got along with my siblings, and my immediate family was always there to hear my whinings. We didn’t have everything we wanted, but we had everything we needed. The luxury of having both parents and the privilege of knowing they were indispensable was a blessing. I discovered at the age of twelve nothing is, as it seems. My close to perfect reality was disoriented when I learned of infidelity in my family. I didn’t comprehend at first the possibility of such an act, plus I never ever saw my parents argue! They seem to love each other, they were always together, and everyone knew they were partners. So, how can one partner cheat on another when everyone is aware of their commitment to each other and does not get reprimanded? 

At the time I didn’t think much of my discovery; I thought I made a mistake, but four years later my mistake became a reality. I discovered I had two siblings I never heard off, and I was going to meet them. Disgusted, mad, excited are few words I can use to describe how I felt at the time. While exploring my own trauma I talked to others, and discovered infidelity was not just in my family, or among my friends’ families, but it was an accepted behavior within the Liberian cultural.

I explored the subject with several individuals and was disgusted by the normalcy towards infidelity. Although many concluded it was wrong they showed little or no remorse. The effect of infidelity does not only disorient the family structure but breed individuals with demolishing morals and ethics. How can we rebuild our country when individuals do not respect each other, and consistently repress their moral obligations to enjoy moments of pleasure? Such attitude towards life does not impact individuals solely, but the society in which they live. In response to the normalcy towards infidelity in the Liberian society….

Bartee, OOOOH! Bartee…Bartee!

(Listen, OOOOH! Listen…Listen!)

Men oh men!! Men!.......Bartee.

Men oh men!! Men!.......Bartee.

My fathers, my brothers, my hustlers, my down on the corner chilling peakins.

Every day I am slap in the face with a behavior I detest. I wonder why you act this way.

At first I thought it was normal, but…I later realized no, no, no it is just down right f*** up!

Can’t you see your mothers, your sisters, your big jue are going through?

Inside they scream for you to stop!

They bare your children because they love you.

They endure the pain because they hope you will change.

They stay because our society has adapted this disgusting behavior as the norm.

In the depth of your heart, you know it is wrong. 

It is damaging to your mothers, your sisters, your big jue, but most of all to your children.

I am sick of seeing it, hearing about it, living it….

It sickens me to see siblings that will never know each other.

It sickens me to watch women grow cold in silent hatred.

It sickens me to acknowledge no one is reprimanded.

It sickens me to know it is encouraged, through silence.

It is time for our culture to deviate from cultural norms that take away the essence of who we are. We have to eradicate old practices that are no longer conducive to our culture.

I say to my fathers, my brothers, my hustlers, my down on the corner chilling peakins, STOP!

I say to my mothers, my sisters, my big jue, DON'T ENCOURAGEGARE  IT!

I say to my generation we are our parents’ children, not our parents, CHANGE IT!