or "Michael Jax," as my Dad told me I used to call him.
I've written a story about the King of Pop and how many Liberians loved his music because it comforted them and uplifted them in the face of war. The story was published in The Washington Times today.
It's been a good last week of school, for the most part. Some of my classes—yes, entire classes—didn't show up for school because it's the last week. I've spent the week reviewing with my classes, so that they are prepared for the exam. I am going to miss my students! I can't believe school is almost over! Summer school begins July 13, and I'm hoping to see many of them there. I'm also thinking about starting a summer reading group ...
Arrived late last night in Ganta and stayed with the school principal. The road was long and bumpy, and my body is really feeling it today. I'm so tired! But it's back to class for me. This is the last full week before exams. Summer school begins in July. It will be a busy week! I'll keep you posted. It's good to be back here.
Leaving for Ganta today! The school principal has come to my rescue. Stay tuned!
My reading glasses broke this week. Part of the frame — one of the parts extending from the lens to my ear — fell off.
Well, at least I can still use them if I balance them correctly on my nose!
Anyone know a place around here where I can get them fixed? I'm missing the teenie tiny screw that attaches the lens to the frame.
I arrived in Liberia for the first time.
It's hard to believe it's been a year! I've learned so much, I've made so many wonderful friendships and I've had the privilege of telling some heartbreaking stories. As I've told the stories of so many Liberians recovering from war, I've been on my own journey of healing. God has blessed me deeply in giving me a heart for His most broken people and bringing me all the way to Liberia to show me how He can comfort and restore and give new life.
Here's a look back at what I've learned ...
It's about young motorcycle riders in Ganta, a northern city near the Guinean border. Many of these youth bikers are trading school or after-school studying time to make "fast money" transporting people on the bikes.
I've been thinking about this passage this week as I evaluate the way I write the story of the Liberian people. This is a good reminder to me of the point behind writing about the different ways of life here -- ways that sometimes seem curious or even wrong. But I am reminded that my goal is not to just write about something for the novelty of it or to in any way put down a nation of people recovering from terrible civil war.
"Hello, baby!'" (pronounced "bay-bee") "How the day?" I attempt to greet in Liberian English a little girl named Bendu, who lives in my community in Monrovia.
"Alright-o!" she says.
"What my name? You remember it?" I ask her.
"White woman," she says confidently.
I laughed! Bendu is a sweet, five-year-old girl who is full of giggles. Almost every day I visit her house, which is across the street from my apartment. She runs toward me, her arms outstretched and nearly knocks me over when she gives me a hug. She is the sweetest neighbor ever. One day, I hope she will remember my real name!
Baby Bendu: Despite living in such poverty, Bendu is full of joy and laughter.
I can't believe it's June!
So much to do!
I'm still in Monrovia, but I'm trying to get back to Ganta. Having a bit of a transportation issue. Will keep you posted!
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