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The flight to Monrovia was uneventful. Once we disembarked the action started.
The terminal was very small, crowded, and loud. There seemed to be much
confusion everywhere. Suddenly some men approached us and Richard recognized
them, it was Peter, our host, and his friends. From this point on I was to be
treated as if I were visiting royalty. I reached for my baggage and was blocked
by a gentleman with the kindest eyes I think I have ever seen. He insisted on
carrying my bags.
There was something strangely
familiar about him. I knew that I had never met him before but it seemed I had.
Richard was busy talking to someone he obviously knew. Our new friends helped us through the required paperwork processes.
We were escorted to two cars. Suddenly a man approached me and said," You
are already rich." That was all he said. Before I entered the car I noticed a
large empty building. I asked what it was. I was informed that it was the main
airport terminal that had been shot up during the war. The one in use now was
much smaller. I sat in the back of a Toyota Camry with one of the young men.
His name was Jason, we were both the extrovert types. We were to have lots of
laughs together. Peter rode in the front passenger spot.
Once we left the airport I noticed that we were in somewhat open country.
The highway was in pretty good shape. The landscape was flat. Some trees were
here and there, mostly small and of the palm type. There was brush everywhere
but not very thick. Small huts and housed made of block were scattered about.
People were walking up and down the highway, but not in large numbers. We
traveled for several miles and the scenery didn't change much. I had gotten
used to the temperature in Africa by now. It was like my native Indiana in June
or July. I was expecting it to be much hotter, but it was their winter.
Suddenly I noticed something very strange. Two hundred yards or so off to my
right were lots of large tents. There were also many large trucks and various
other military type vehicles. I had first seen the white painted U.N. military
equipment in Sierra Leone at the Freetown airport. That was where those two
young missionaries had left us. I knew therefore that this was a U.N. outpost
but it seemed to have a special purpose. Jason and I had spoken a little bit to
Peter about things we had observed along the way. I had noticed since I had
been in west Africa that the English spoken there was hard for me to understand.
I had learned to listen very carefully. I asked Peter about those tents. He
told me it was a place for the rebels to turn in their weapons.
Our driver seemed to be in
a hurry. We caught up with a slow moving truck and began to pass it. I looked
up to see soldiers staring at me. It was a U.N. troop transport truck. The
soldiers looked to be from India or Pakistan and were as surprised to see me as
I was to see them. Things were rapidly becoming more crowded. Small block
homes and bamboo huts were everywhere. The streets were crowded with
pedestrians. Suddenly I saw a familiar sight. It was the national stadium . I
remembered it from the television news reels. I felt as if I were observing
history, like when I first saw the Berlin wall. It looked so empty now. I
remember thousands or people entering it.
We quickly found ourselves in bustling Monrovia. The streets were full or
cars and vans, all filled beyond capacity. People were crowding over into the
road and horns were blowing constantly. I noticed that there were many outdoor
businesses of all kinds everywhere. These had a sort of organization to them.
There were areas where only food was sold, or clothing, or even building
materials. This could consist of from three or four "shops" to as many as fifty
or so. As we would slow down, people would stare, really stare, at these white
men from America.
I noticed trash along side the
roads everywhere. I had to remind myself that this country had been at civil
war for 14 years. This also meant no trash collection for that long. Soon we
turned onto a side street. All or a sudden the cars were surrounded by dozens
of people singing and clapping. I have never felt so important in all my life.
Everyone was all smiles as the cars advanced slowly into the church compound.
The women were dressed in these beautiful matching outfits that I soon
discovered were choir robes. Once we stopped the celebration continued. From
that point onward I was hardly allowed to open a door or pull up a chair on my
own. These folks were genuinely touched that we would come to visit their
nation at such a time as this.
As the men unloaded our bags I looked around. There were several
buildings built out of what appeared to me to be bamboo. I asked about this
later. They called it reed. A fence surrounded this compound made of the same
material, it appeared to be about 7 feet high. The largest building, I
discovered, was the church. In the middle of the compound was a small very well
built building made of block and covered with stucco. It had a nice porch and
windows all around. The windows in most African houses that I saw did not shut
as I knew. It was so hard to realize that it never was cold there.
We had been delayed six days
from our original schedule. Therefore Peter wasted no time in getting started.
Service was started immediately
Next-The
Conference.
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