Not in Kansas Anymore

Sometimes I forget I'm in Liberia. When I'm in a hotel restaurant; when I'm arguing with my mother; when the radio plays Blondie; in these moments, I could easily be back home.

Then there are other moments.

When you see two people handcuffed together and strolling with no apparent supervision.

When you see a blind guy walking arm in arm with another guy...who is also blind.

When your friend says, "UN Police party?" and you say, "Sure" and find yourself drinking punch from the inside of a cooler and dancing by a pool with half of Serbia.

When you spend a perfect Sunday for seven in blue-gold water at Cece Beach and return to a car suddenly missing its battery.

And you curse for a minute, think of the deflated soccer balls and rickety fishing boats you watched go by all day, and get over it.