Sweet Liberia: Finding My Way Back Home: Home Sweet Home

Shot of RIA as I disembark (I was also reprimanded for snapping this)

I am in LIBERIA! I just can't believe it...think I have to wake up after a full night's sleep to really believe I'm actually here. The experience at the airport, RIA, was much as I'd expected it to be. The arrival area looked dingy, small and out-dated, and wasn't what I recalled leaving at all (I came to later find out that the original part of the airport had been destroyed and this was now the airport). Everyone wanted "cold water," or their "dash" (some cash for you non-Liberians). I understand that the UN has been trying to alleviate the problem of begging and that it's currently much better than it's been in previous years.

Nevertheless, I came prepared with a pocketful of dollar bills for just this occasion. My first 'tip' was to the immigration guy, who said I had some issue with a 'missing' stamp in my passport. One dollar quickly made that stamp 'reappear.' I was standing in the line for Liberian nationals when a guy came to make sure I was in the right place (I guess I looked too American to be Liberian). But I proudly let him know in Liberian English that I have a Liberian passport.

When I stepped out of the airport, it was hot, but no hotter than any DC summer day. The smell was different, fresher, more organic (there's that word again). Everyone came rushing to ask if I needed help with my bags (I had to tip two airport workers who helped me) and if I needed a taxi. "No tenk you. My ma comin foh me," I say. There was an instant sense of bonding that happened. I was excited to tell folks this was my first time back in a long time. "Welcome home," they all replied.

I saw my mom and hugged her hard! Driving back was surreal. I didn't recognize much of the place, and getting into the city, I saw how crowded and packed it was. There were only a handful of places I recalled, like JFK hospital and the apt building I lived in once. Once we got to my mom's house--the house we spent many years in, I was amazed! The neighborhood had changed drastically (it's known as Liberia Las Vegas--and not in a good way either) and the house looks much like an older version of herself as opposed to the 'young' house I remembered. I ran to touch the tree I had planted as a child, that still stood in the yard. I smiled remembering how I used to climb that tree and hide from the world when things bothered me. The country may have changed, and I sure did change, but it was good to see that some things still remain just as I'd left it.

I arrive at Maya's place, where I'll be staying for the next two weeks. The apt is big and nice, and I'm updated on how things work around here: Lights go out from 7:30 am to 7:30 pm (with the exception of 2 hours during the day), and if the well isn't filled, water might run out. There is working A/C and we sleep goood at night!

As I lay down for my first night in Liberia, exhausted from traveling, I thank God for bringing be safely home. Outside my window, I hear Liberian English, and I smile to myself before crashing into sleep.