With a pocket full of seashells jangling, we tread over sand
and surf. With each step, our surroundings come alive. To one side is the Atlantic
Ocean – waves crashing – undeterred by human existence. To the other – the
world turns with breezy palm groves, busy villages, and new millennium homes. My
eyes swallow their share of Liberia’s beauty.
Grinding bare feet into wet sand, I quickly lose myself in
thoughts of the future. In a walking daydream, I marvel at the grand structures
in front of me. I picture my own home one day: there are rooms with bookshelves,
large windows filter the natural light streaming in from outside. Perhaps, I
too will boast a balcony towards the sea. After all, dreams are free to be dreamt by the
many.
We walk mainly in silence, steadily maneuvering stretches of
sand. Soon we come to a giant excavation site with tire tracks leading away. Illegal
sand mining: a reminder that despite the luxury of a few, life remains a hustle.
We don’t break stride climbing over sand dunes to higher
ground. For the first time since arriving in Liberia, the immediate sense of
urgency about my mission is elsewhere. Land grabs, community titles, and unfair
agreements take a backseat for a few hours. Right now, the sun beats down on my
back, the sound of children plays in my ear, and a feeling of triumph washes
over me.
But it all keeps moving. Tomorrow brings a public forum on
land rights at the University. And then a return to Rivercess – a place where
my dreams can be their most vibrant. Deep in the forest, there are questions of
how a country so naturally rich can struggle with providing basic social
services? It’s then I remember the lyrics that played non-stop during my youth:
“What we don’t know keeps the contract alive and moving.”
The setting sun signals our return. Through neighborhoods of
thatch and zinc, we pass the skeletons of unfinished homes. Tall, green grass
guards these concrete shells. Outside, big walls separate one reality from
another. But dreams of the future don’t know the meaning of such boundaries. Instead,
they seep through the cracks, connecting the realities of today with our hopes
for tomorrow.
As my pockets hang low with treasures, I return home to see
what I’ve collected. Scattering shells, seeds, and stones on my dresser, I try and
translate what is front of me. I shift around these un-deciphered hieroglyphics,
searching for some message.
Maybe it is as simple as realizing that the natural wealth
and beauty of the world belong to everyone. That land – the single most
important resource for agrarian societies – should benefit the people. And those benefits should be distributed to
ensure prosperity and dignity for all.
