My One Month Anniversary

Well, I have surpassed my one month anniversary here in Liberia. I'm making it sound like something difficult by using those words, when in reality it has flown by quickly. I have mentioned this before, but it's truly amazing how the time has flown. I'm coming home each day mentioning to co-workers that already I can't get to all the things that need doing in a day.

We drove up to Gbarnga today, pronounced Bonga, to see an orphanage that we have partnered with for the past few years. I believe I mentioned this orphanage in a previous blog, but I don't think I have yet talked about the woman behind this place. Ma is the matron of the orphanage, and today like other days she greeted us with her trademark warm and friendly hug. I'll try to post a photo of her, but she is a large Liberian woman with silvering hair that is usually held under by a hair wrap. In the times that I have met her, she has been wearing a tank top, and a piece of fabric wrapped around her waist to be worn as a skirt. She has usually just come from the garden so her hugs are a notable and memorable experience. With her size, it's life sinking into a huge cushion and part of your body disappears within her grasp. Today, when I asked how she is doing, she quietly responded, "Thank God! We're alive!".

This response is one that I recieve often. I'm so conditioned to a response of, "doing fine", or "good", that this response given is one that still catches me off guard. After having lived through such difficult times, it's not a wonder that this has become a common response. Ma is just one example of someone who has miraculously survived this horrific time in Liberian history. While I don't know all of her stories, the ones that I have heard are amazing. She was given care of, or I believe even ordered to take care of kids during the war who were either seperated from their parents, or orphaned. The first time I met her, she shared with me a story of how she made a journey from Gbarnga to Monrovia with over 200 children. As I sat beside her on the bench, she demonstrated using my skirt and hers how she kept the kids together by taking pieces of their clothing and tying them one to the next, so that they walked as if in a huge chain gang. By car, this trip is a good three hours so you can imagine how long it took 200 children walking through dense, tropical forest to make it to safety in Monrovia!

She has told other stories, and one of the more phenomenal ones is of how at one time a number of children were captured by a soldeir. Ma watched from the side as this gentleman poured fuel all over the kids. They were bound together, and she watched with horror as the man searched for his matches. The remarkable thing is that she could see the outline of the matchbox in his shirt pocket, but he kept patting over the spot and was never able to find them. After minutes of frustration, and unable to find the matches, he simply walked away from the children and she was able to rescue them.

Spending time in the midst of individuals like Ma, or others that I will write about in the future is a humbling experience for me. I think over the things that I consider to be struggles, or the frustrations that I have had and complained about, and I'm humbled. It puts a lot of things in perspective for me, and it reminds me once again of one of the many reasons that I'm glad to be here.