Walking the streets of Monrovia, I’m petrified!
“Am I going to be stabbed, robbed, raped, or even killed today?”
“Will I make it back home in one piece?”
A million thoughts going through my mind
Another innocent person was found dead
Killed mysteriously… “Am I next?”
Another person was stabbed by a group of thugs and their belongings stolen
“Am I safe here?”
A thousand questions and not one answered- not from me, not from the community, not from the government.
Walking the streets of Monrovia, I’m terrified!
Dread and doom are the norms of the day.
“Do I have my pepper spray? Where’s my little knife?”
“Be your own security,” my president says,
So I walk -expecting an anxiety attack any moment now
An old proverb says, “it takes a village to raise a child.”
Does this still apply?
Because a brother of ours raped a sister last night, and there’s no justice
Some other brothers attacked an elder and beat him brutally, but still no justice
I was jumped and almost beaten, I screamed, and the “villagers” said nothing.
They did nothing
Is this the village that’s supposed to raise the children?
Are these the products of the training of the village?
Walking the streets of Monrovia, I’m horrified!
We wear fear like perfume every day, and it stinks
Is this the new “Normal”?
How long before we are unable to walk freely, even in our own homes?
How much longer do we have to live in constant fear
Looking over our shoulders, always?
How much longer before the future leaders are rehabilitated?
How much longer before our feet give out, and can we no longer carry our bodies when we’re being chased?
How much longer?
I’m walking these streets of Monrovia, and I’m grief-stricken!
Should I scream or run?
If I do scream, will I be rescued, or will they simply “mind their business” “?
Authored by Precious Cooper
Featured Picture Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash
