What happens every time I start attempting to write something here lately is that I want to talk about Ebola, and the sick feeling in my stomach when things are going badly in Liberia, a feeling that I felt most of my teenage years and only lost c. 2003 when the war ended.
The sick feeling is back.
Oh, Liberia, Liberia, Liberia. Why does Liberia seem to get the worst end of every tragedy?
That question is basically the reason why I studied community development in undergrad and why I went to law school. I still don't have an answer.
I am fighting the urge to up and go to Liberia and spend my days giving Ebola patients oral rehydration salts and maybe persuading them to try statins? (Have you read the stuff about statins and Ebola? I would try them if I got Ebola.)
It's very strange how life just goes on here. At least now there is the internet, while in 1991 I was cutting out tiny snippets of news about Liberia's civil war from the newspaper and pasting them into a scrapbook.
Now I can read an article about Ebola, shoot it off in an email to interested parties, and go get dressed up for a date with a cute guy. It is very disorienting, and also very sad.
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