Change gon’ come…
Time is so relative, despite appearances to the contrary. Sixty seconds to 60 minutes to 24 hours…and days turn into months turn into years. Neat. Orderly. The same for everyone. Except it isn’t.
For the last five months time has been this slow moving vehicle transporting me through my Liberian experience. And I had my head out the window checking out everything that passed by. But after a while the scenery stopped changing and looking at my watch seemed pointless because the moments were passing slowly and they were the same moments over and over again.
Until now. Now with a month left to service and things flying by at incredible speed. So fast I am prone to missing them.
In the last two weeks my world has been thrown out of sync. And it all began so innocuously. I was finally called to do the training that was originally scheduled for October of last year. Finally. Meaning and form to my time here. And so I jumped into a Ministry of Health vehicle and headed north. My return bled into the Easter holiday and so I was busy here and there without really realizing how much time had passed. How quickly time was passing.
Until today.
Today I headed to the County Health Department for the first time in a long time. I sat and chatted with friends and talked about nothing and everything as is typical. From there I headed to the market at Airstrip by way of Africare. It had been a while since I’d been there and I needed to arrange a few things and at the same time it allows me to circumnavigate the Bangladeshi UNMIL station where I am generally stared at uncomfortably. On my return trip from the market, however, I took the long way and found myself staring at something that wasn’t registering familiar… when my eyes finally focused I asked the closest people to me what was obvious to anyone with sight, “UNMIL is gone?”.
Gone.
Just like that. Nothing left save a few sand bags and the concrete steps that use to lead up to their shower area. The whole compound had been disassembled and most of what remained was razed. And so I walked by, staring bewildered at the empty space where my discomfort had lived.
Change gon’ come.
I wanted to stop by the hospital this morning. Wanted to see Baby Grace but afraid of seeing her and of not. Afraid of what looking on her would do to my rended heart. Fearful that the loose hanging sheet that shielded her from nosey eyes might be neatly folded away and her space conspicuously absent
And so I went about my day, “too busy” to check in.
Later, sitting with Mary Tia, the desire to know overtook me and I asked quietly, “is baby Grace still there?”
She died two weeks ago, her head more than 67cm when she passed. She must have died shortly after my last visit.
They buried her in the clothes people had gifted her with. And just like that…
change gon’ come…
and come, and come.
Only a few more weeks spread out ahead of me before my “what next?”. A few weeks for everything to happen- anything. Time, that once slow moving vehicle, has a foot to the accelerator and I’m holding on and watching the scenery change with increasing speed.
Tags: future, health, liberia, observations, transition, travel, volunteer, work
God bless Mary Tia, may she rest in peace. And God bless you too, my beautiful and adventureous and courageous niece! Luv u. Aunt Linda
So sorry for advancing Mary Tia to God’s blessing but it is Baby Grace I was referring to although Mary Tia deserves His blessings too, just not the rest in peace part. Thank you Linea for touching Baby Grace’s life and all those who spent time and touched and talked to her in her short life here. So small and her life so short but she has touched mine and inspired me to do more for others in any way I can. Luv u.
Sorry Linnea!! Forgive me for mispelling your name.
ever the master of poetic prose … the rhythm, the flow. change gone come, change has come, change does come. but some things remain the same.