Africa

RECALLING THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS IN LIBERIA (4 of 5) “IMMORTAL ENERGY IN MONROVIA”

Recalling presidential elections in liberia

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF MONROVIA, LIBERIA. IN THE MIDDLE OF DEPRIVATION AND AN IMMORTAL ENERGY, we get out the Toyotas Prado and make our way to a crumbling school that was hosting several scattered polling stations. It seemed as if the whole neighbourhood had already voted at these tables because the rooms were practically empty;…

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THOSE WHO LEAVE LIBERIA

liberia

I HAVE HAD A FEW DRINKS TOO MANY, and shit, now I forgot what I was going to say. Eeerm, basically with today’s post I intend to talk about those who leave Liberia. About those people you meet in this country and that some day or another will disappear into thin air, swish swish. That’s…

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THERE IS A DEAD MAN ON MY STREET

liberia-dead-man-street

AT FIRST I THOUGHT THAT THE BODY THAT LAY THERE MUST BE THAT WOMAN WHO LOVES THE GENERATOR. That woman who usually spends the whole day stuck to the powerful diesel engine that spurts out burnt smoke into her face. And warmth into her soul. Warmth. That woman who almost always ends up fast asleep…

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A DINNER CAN END IN A BAD WAY IN MONROVIA

dinner-monrovia

CONSISTENT WITH THE IDEA THAT HUMAN BEINGS ARE ANIMALS who usually have dinner at night, I logically attended the collation at the Korean restaurant at Bushrod Island, Monrovia, in the evening. As you do. I walked up the entrance stairs and joined a group of twelve to fourteen people, speaking with their mouths, looking through their eyes,…

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THERE ARE NO PERFECT PLACES, ONLY MOMENTS

Liberia only moments

ONE DAY MORE In LIBERIA (ONE DAY LESS…) I am exhausted as I start to write. It’s been a hard day again and the last thing I fancy doing is tapping away at a cold keyboard. So. It’s time to evoke Stevenson and remind myself that not a day went by when the author of…

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THE LIBERIAN SIESTA, THE CASINO AT MAMBA POINT, THE OTHERS

liberia-siesta

I GENTLY WALK INTO THE MINISTRY OF LAND, MINES AND ENERGY in Liberia, but nobody sees me. They are all there, but nobody sees me. They are asleep. The secretary, receptionist or whatever she is, is spread across the desk, her forehead against the surface and her arms stretched out, almost reaching out to the tiles…

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