Monrovia

+Midnight, Monrovia~

I have read about cities destroyed after war. I have seen photos of poverty in other countries. But until tonight, I could never feel the true impact of disaster's affect on mankind. The roughly 60km drive from Roberts International to Monrovia gave me a cursory glance at war's lasting impact on Liberia and her people. The homes along the road, the ones visible in the night, at least, were nothing more than small shacks with metal roofing for those who could find the resource and hand-made mud bricks with thatch on top for the rest. There is no power. There is no running water. Families light their homes with candles, oil lamps, kerosene lamps, and fires. If you are fortunate to have enough money, you can buy a small generator to power your home for a couple hours. But most do not.

The roads to the city and in the city are paved, but there are no stoplights. There are no street signs. There are street lamps that line the path, but only a few are powered to see your way through. The source of power for those lamps are unknown to me; I can only guess it is the work of the United Nations. We are basically on your own down these streets, marked with potholes every few feet and worn away from neglect. It's impossible for me to think how I would've coped living like this. The thought of enduring a war in my own town, my own home, and then having nothing to rebuild with afterwards is unfathomable.