Theft

There are a lot of ways to steal in Liberia.

The Minister of Agriculture described how new technology catches poachers (and pirates!) in Liberian waters. Gotta protect the fish.

As for individuals, everyone with the means lives walled inside a gated compound. The guards never leave. The windows are barred, giving everything within their shadow a hint of prison until sunset. I am "safe." But none of this matters from 6-7pm when I stand nervously on the balcony, waiting for the generator to illuminate the corners of the house.

See, my mother waited all year to tell me thieves descended from the ceiling and pilfered everything in her bedroom. While she was asleep in it.

The same happened to a girl across town this month. Only her own security was kind enough to guide the thieves to her bedroom. While she was asleep in it.

Yet there are worse things than burglary, as I was reminded by our driver yesterday.

Me: I only ever see people missing a leg here.
Jerry: Personal preference.
Me: Whose?
Jerry: Evil people.
Me: Oh.
Jerry: It could be worse.
Me: What is worse?
Jerry: In Sierra Leone, they would stop you and ask if you wanted short or long sleeves.
Me: Long sleeves?
Jerry: Long sleeves meant they'd only cut off your hands.
Me: What if you didn't respond?
Jerry: You got a muscle shirt.

Once, I heard a character say, "I can't bring myself to eat a well-balanced meal in front of my mother. It means too much to her." I feel the same way about thanking my mom when she follows me to the gate with a flashlight  in the dark.