Robbed in Kenya

Neighborhood I got robbed in

I wanted my 2013 to start of with something memorable, and interesting. Be careful what you wish for as my new year eve was unforgettable. Robbed in Nairobi by four gunmen. No, I did not try to find out if the gun was real. Stripped of almost everything I own, only to be rescued by corrupt Kenyan police officers that extorted more from me than the arm robbers.  Apart from that, it was a good trip, infuse with delicious passion fruits, memorable artwork, bad cheesecake, smiling sympathizers, fantastic friend/host and her family…I will definitely return.

To my Taxi-Jackers...

I do not hate you for what you have done to me, but I hope one day your leaders, and mine can realize how their lack of sensitivity for those at the bottom effect us daily. President Mwai Kibaki term is over though he is love by many, he must go. I hope whoever wins the next election realize the plight of the Youth. Do not think I feel your actions were justify, but I understand the direct decisions made by those in position of power that led to the unjust environment you have to survive in. Once again I do not commend your actions, as there are millions just like you, who have consciously chosen not to take the path you have. However……

Thanks for answering my questions as you squeeze me between two hours of stench I will never forget.

Thanks for sparing my life as it is why I can say these words today.

Thanks for sparing me the pain of going through bureaucratic procedures of renewing my identity.

Thanks for increasing my adrenaline to explore our continent!

Thanks for understanding the importance of my wildflower.

Most of All I repeat….….GOD bless YOU, I forgive you.

1st time on the mutatu(bus)

Ooops!... you will never be able to use that IPAD 2 cuz it will be deactivated…:)

Stolen Camera, Ipad = No Pictures.

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?

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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!

Does Liberia need President Sirleaf?

A campaigner showcase his support for unity Party
(Monkey represent President Sirleaf and Baboon represent other contenders)

The excitement was building in me from the day I stepped my feet on the uneven pavement of Robert International Airport. In a couple of weeks, I will be at the polling station casting my vote. For the first time in my life my right to vote was not infringed upon, but it was more than that.

My future is intertwined with the next six years, and whoever heads the Republic of Liberia, will pave the future for at least 3million Liberians.  With about 19 presidential candidates, Liberians pick for the next president is mind-numbing.  Like most presidential race in Africa, most political parties are not established based on the interests of the people, but a means of survival for selected few.  I knew from the beginning I didn’t have the strength, or the will to research all candidates. Therefore, I chose to research the two top contenders from the previous election.

Madame Sirleaf of Unity Party (UP) won the last election, after defeating George Weah of Congress for Democratic Change (CDC), she promised the Liberia people she will not run again, yet she was contending again.  Is power too sweet in her mouth? Why should I trust her?

Mr. Weah was defeated and criticized worldwide regarding his political incompetence, Weah returned to college obtained a degree, but decided to become Vice President to William Tubman.  Famous for football and nothing else, I wonder. Can these two bring development to Liberia?  What have they done in the past for Liberians?

Like most Liberians, I was caught between the two major parties, and I decided I rather go with the devil I know than the one I do not know.  Madame Sirleaf has proven herself in the last six years.  We first have to give her credit for maintaining peace in Liberia (she recently won the noble prize for peace), and encouraging freedom of speech.  Second, we have to acknowledge the concrete development taking place around Liberia. Areas neglected by many past presidents, have become accessible to rest of Liberia through the establishment of roads. Third, her initiatives to ensure laws are in place to create a better democratic system for all to participate. Most importantly, her acknowledgment of marginalized groups, women, and youth by supporting initiatives targeting the two groups.

“Change is slow and tedious, but transition is ferocious”- MGW

President Sirleaf supporters at Samule K. Doe staduim

Supporters dance with joy while exiting the stadium

President Sirleaf has started a plan we need her to complete, currently, there is no other contender who has the same vision as her. Therefore, electing another candidate we risk retracting her efforts, and most all our FUTURE.

As my fellow Liberians and I marched October 9th the last day of campaigning towards the Samuel K. Doe stadium to show our support for our one and only “Iron Lady” I knew with certainty I pick the devil I know as there was no other option. 

Supporters marched towards the stadium 

After voting I begun to wonder, are Liberians always going to settle because there is no other choice?  Am I wrong to think there is no other choice than Madame Sirleaf? If I am where are they, and what are they doing?  If they do not exist, how do Liberians start preparing for the period after 2017? A third term is not feasible in Liberia !

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