Firstly, I would like to apologize for my absence from this blog. It has been months since the last post. I’m sorry.
Picture this: Monrovia, Liberia, it’s 1996 and my 5-year-old self is frantic and sad trying to understand why we had to leave our home and relocate. Strangers are flooding into our home with packed bags and broken hearts. Mommy and daddy are deciding whether to stay or flee. What was most important to bring along but also having to remember to pack light. My younger brother, Sam, is 2 years or younger.
I can still remember the frightening sounds of bullets as they flew back and forth and back and forth; We had to move on foot. We traveled for miles amongst a large crowd not knowing if we were walking in the direction of the bullets or to safety. Daddy and my elder brother took turns holding me up as I got tired, while Sam was tied to my mother’s back.
Where were we going?
How do we know it’s safe?
WHY ARE THEY SHOOTING?!