Leaving Liberia is more emotional than I ever could’ve imagined it would be. It’s not really not something I can explain to anyone who hasn’t ever been away from their home for almost two decades and then returned. There is a sense of belonging that I have never felt anywhere in America, even though now I’ve lived longer in the States than I have in my own country. But going home was just that….it was a homecoming that I am so grateful I got to do for this particular event. Now the dreams that I used to have that were marred by gaps in memory and a frustrating sense of the unknown can be replaced by a more vivid picture of my sweet Liberia.I say goodbye to my mother, who is a true hustler who managed her way all the way to the gate to see me off. And without being able to control it (and those of you who know me, know me not to be a cry baby), the tears began to flow from me. As I looked at the landscape of the place I hurriedly left 19 years ago, expecting to be back after a brief vacation in the States, I was a wreck inside. "I don't wanna go," I kept thinking over and over. I know that I will be back, but it felt much like it must feel when my son has to say goodbye to me. I boarded Virgin Kenya and wished I had take my sunglasses from my luggage--the tears wouldn't stop. I sat back and looked through the tiny window, saying goodbye again to my country, promising her I would be back. Pleading with her to be good, to keep growing in the right direction so that I have something to come home to. I've never felt this way before and I doubt I ever will again.
As many flaws as Liberia has, she is still beautiful and no other place, no other people can ever compare nor replace the love I have for her. I am inspired, motivated, and galvanized to return home to be an integral part of the change that is sorely needed in order to push our country to the place that she needs to be. Like a broken down car that only needs a little help, we must all get out of the car, put our hands on her and push with all our might so that we may jumpstart her back to life. It will take every one of us, all of our knowledge and expertise and the combined efforts of us all to rebuild the country. It will take lots of patience as well, because all is far from perfect in our country. But what is perfect is the spirit of home, the way you feel a part of something, even something that can be dysfunctional at times. It’s like any family—sometimes you can’t stand them, but you can’t help but love them unconditionally nevertheless. Liberia is home and to all of you who have not been back in a while, I urge you to go. Go and see for yourself what awaits you. Go and find out for yourself whether it is a place you can find yourself living again, despite the lack of certain conveniences. And even if it’s not for you, we all still need to play a role somehow, from wherever you chose to live, to help heal Liberia.
This is what I will miss about Liberia until I find a way to return even sooner than I had planed: I will miss hearing Liberian English around me and realizing that, dammit, I’m home o! I will miss the people who are always willing to help out, to lend a hand, to give an opinion, even if they might want small ‘cold water’ in the end. I will miss riding along and looking at the Atlantic Ocean always there like a security blanket. I will miss the jokes, and the vivacious laughter of my friends, the gossiping and congosying (sp??) . And my goodness will I miss the food. There is NO better cuisine than Liberian food, and I dare anybody tell me otherwise. And while there are things that I won’t miss (the trash on the road in some places, the funk of some areas, the slowness of customer service, the shitty Internet service, the way some people talk to the “help” in a way that is disrespectful and condescending, the egos of some folks who jess want to be big shot) there is nothing I wouldn’t do to end up home again soon.
The view on the way to the airport:
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