When I was small in Liberia, we did our grocery shopping at a couple of grocery stores in Buchanan proper, and one in the LAMCO compound. None of the stores were very big; maybe four aisles at the most, but it seems to me, thinking back, that we somehow managed to get quite a few things at them. Okay, not everything. There were some things that had to wait for Harbel or Monrovia: almond butter, Honeycomb cereal, gummy worms - those things were only available in more kwi places. But we had bread and cheese every night, and any town that has cheese is good in my book. (Side note: I doubt that you can buy cheese in Buchanan now. Unless things have changed dramatically in the last two years, since I was there, the town has shrunken down in on itself. There are no longer any real restaurants or supermarkets.)
Sometimes my mom would buy us a treat at the supermarket. Sometimes Smarties (the real chocolate kind, not those little chalky tablets). Sometimes Pastilles (gummy fruity things).
One day, for a reason that I can't remember, my mom had to talk to the Lebanese owner of the LAMCO store, and we were ushered back into his office. While the two of them discussed whatever needed to be discussed, likely the lack of something, I stared up at the photo on the wall. I must have been not far into the world of reading, because I was proud of myself for being able to read the words underneath it for the first time. It wasn't that it was new to me - every office had it. It was a portrait of Samuel K. Doe. I was just excited, for the first time, to be able to read the words, "His Excellency, President Samuel Kanyon Doe." He was the only president I had ever known.
I've lived under a few more presidents since then (four in the US, one in Rwanda, one in Tanzania, one more in Liberia - Ellen! - if you don't count the two weeks I was there while Taylor was president, and one/two-ish in (semi-autonomous) Southern Sudan). As I rode the train today, I passed a small crowd of people waving Obama posters. "Hm," I thought to myself, "even though I no longer live in a place where one is required to put the president's portrait on the walls, I would put his up. I would proudly put his photo up on my very own wall in my very own apartment."
I wonder if it will be hard to get one of those red-white-and-blue shaded pictures of Barack Obama once he wins the election...
(Yes, I just said that out loud. I don't want to jinx it, but I almost start to hope.)
Sometimes my mom would buy us a treat at the supermarket. Sometimes Smarties (the real chocolate kind, not those little chalky tablets). Sometimes Pastilles (gummy fruity things).
One day, for a reason that I can't remember, my mom had to talk to the Lebanese owner of the LAMCO store, and we were ushered back into his office. While the two of them discussed whatever needed to be discussed, likely the lack of something, I stared up at the photo on the wall. I must have been not far into the world of reading, because I was proud of myself for being able to read the words underneath it for the first time. It wasn't that it was new to me - every office had it. It was a portrait of Samuel K. Doe. I was just excited, for the first time, to be able to read the words, "His Excellency, President Samuel Kanyon Doe." He was the only president I had ever known.
I've lived under a few more presidents since then (four in the US, one in Rwanda, one in Tanzania, one more in Liberia - Ellen! - if you don't count the two weeks I was there while Taylor was president, and one/two-ish in (semi-autonomous) Southern Sudan). As I rode the train today, I passed a small crowd of people waving Obama posters. "Hm," I thought to myself, "even though I no longer live in a place where one is required to put the president's portrait on the walls, I would put his up. I would proudly put his photo up on my very own wall in my very own apartment."
I wonder if it will be hard to get one of those red-white-and-blue shaded pictures of Barack Obama once he wins the election...
(Yes, I just said that out loud. I don't want to jinx it, but I almost start to hope.)
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