A few days after leaving Liberia, I stopped crying long enough to visit a museum. In it was a piece called The Acquired Inability to Escape. I couldn't move away from the thing: I swear it was speaking to me.
A few days earlier, you see, during a layover in Brussels, I'd watched the strangest thing. A little boy stood on the outside of a moving walkway and, for no apparent reason, put his fingers on the handrail, forcing the boy to run alongside the moving walkway as the handrail dragged him with it. He screamed, but still he held on. And when his mother cried, "Just let go!" he seemed more afraid to do so than to see where the handrail took him.
When, at last, he did let go, he stood, shocked, stared at his hand and burst into tears.
This is how it felt to leave Liberia.
Liberia is all the things I never wrote about. I considered listing them here but decided to give you a reason to visit -- and give myself a reason to go back. With kids. I'll show them where to crumble crackers for sacred catfish, what to do while the bank teller flosses with Scotch tape, how to chug a hot Club Beer on a rainy beach. And when these kids have finally wrapped their heads around this place, we'll head to the airport and I'll say, "Just let go." They will look incredulously at me. And I will smile, knowing exactly how they feel.
Thank you so much for reading.
A few days earlier, you see, during a layover in Brussels, I'd watched the strangest thing. A little boy stood on the outside of a moving walkway and, for no apparent reason, put his fingers on the handrail, forcing the boy to run alongside the moving walkway as the handrail dragged him with it. He screamed, but still he held on. And when his mother cried, "Just let go!" he seemed more afraid to do so than to see where the handrail took him.
When, at last, he did let go, he stood, shocked, stared at his hand and burst into tears.
This is how it felt to leave Liberia.
Liberia is all the things I never wrote about. I considered listing them here but decided to give you a reason to visit -- and give myself a reason to go back. With kids. I'll show them where to crumble crackers for sacred catfish, what to do while the bank teller flosses with Scotch tape, how to chug a hot Club Beer on a rainy beach. And when these kids have finally wrapped their heads around this place, we'll head to the airport and I'll say, "Just let go." They will look incredulously at me. And I will smile, knowing exactly how they feel.
Thank you so much for reading.
FIN
9 comments:
<3
Thank you for writing!!!
stands up. applauds.
:) Thanks so much.
Has it really ended???? Encore encore!! :)
thank you for sharing. really enjoyed being taken to another place by your blog. best wishes for your new adventure.
[[happiness]]
So wonderful Avril. All of it. Thanks for writing the journey.
Thank YOU for giving eyes to my internal weirdness.
Great post. I would be highly interested in learning more about hot club beer. I wonder if it is a beverage that is native to liberia only, or are there other places in the world that serve it as well.
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