essay # 2

What is Love?

Imagine waking up to the sounds of grenades and rapid fire from AK’s, berretta, M16’s, RPG’s and Pistols. The mere recollection or this nightmare shivers my skin and causes me to perspire peculiarly. Frankly, I find it easy to face my fears of height, water and dogs than revert to the days when the vacuousness and misplacement of rights as free citizens amounted to the greatest catastrophe in my nation’s history. The nation in reference is Liberia, a small country on the west coast of Africa, bordering north of the Atlantic Ocean. Once a peaceful nations, she soon became disturbed by multiple of individuals inquisition for power and wealth. The talks of war became an article when a soldier in the Liberian Armed Forces, Samuel K. Doe, marched in the Executive Mansion with commandos and killed the president at the time, William R. Tolbert. From here on things began to shift from good to bad. Security became a massive failure. The economy was in a horrible shape as education dwarfed. With Tolbert dead and Doe now in charge, the country submerged into a state of chaos and unrest. Soon, other entities felt sure and willing to revolt against the government in uncivil manners. Their revolting soon escalates to the bloodiest and most destructive war in Africa’s History.
We had no cause to celebrate that night. We dined our supper the usual time after which we retired to the living room to telling stories and make jokes as we often do. Oh how I loved when the family is together to have moments like this. It is quite jubilant; especially when you’re as stuffed a turkey on Thanksgiving. I was about twelve (12) years old at the time. The boisterousness of that moment drowned the sound of Hardaway’s “What is love”. I wasn’t the dancing type to keep pace with such a fast tempo song, yet my two steps with a snap seemed to satisfy its rhythm. I wasn’t far from the old AM Radio that sat in the corner of the room, on the table which daddy usually leaves his ashtray. The artist’s strong powerful voice - WHAT IS LOVE, caught my attention as I leaned over to increase the volume. For about three (3) seconds, everyone became quiet with only a strong look toward me. Suddenly, my father got up and took my mother by the hand and started to dance with her; not like what you see on dancing with the stars. They are “old school”, don’t expect anything spectacular. Soon everyone began to rise with excitement to dance the night away, as if we could. I’m sure that was my junior brother’s intention as he did just that. After the song ended, I sat back down in the corner and washed my brother dance the night away. He seemed captivated in something beyond the music that persisted his dancing. I thought he was crazy seeing that he still danced when there wasn’t any tune to jam to. Now the only person on the dance floor, he kept dancing till two (2) in the morning. By then he was tired and couldn’t dance anymore. We all went to bed hoping to have good dreams as we sure did have a good reality.
The next morning, around seven, mother began to indecorously knock on our doors, screaming “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! Do your hear that? WAKE UP!” I woke up to the sound of rapid gunfire and heavy grenades. As we sat there thinking of what to do, I became drowned in fear, wondering if we were going to die. I was twelve (12) what do you expect when a child hears gunshots and grenades. Father looking out the window saw people leaving their houses with all the belongings. We quickly joined the crowd, looking to seek refuge at an unknown place. As I walked from one street to the next, I could see people with radio, suitcases, and mothers carrying their babies tied to the back with traditional African cloth. The streets were filled with great number of people. I swear I haven’t seen that much people anywhere at anytime. During this chaos I could see and hear a lady crying for her missing child. She knew not what to do as she sat there in tears. I guess we were heading the wrong direction as we could see rebels hanging from jeeps and pickup trucks with guns waving in the air. They were easily identified by their red t-shirts with red scarves or red bandanas. We got to a checkpoint where I saw people standing in three separate lines. The lines were men, women and children (boys and girls). One of the rebels came toward us beating everyone to get in the lines that belong to them. Proper formation, he said. As I stood in the line, to the left of me was a huge pit full with bodies of people they’d cool heartedly murdered. I could see men with missing genitals, women and men with missing arms and legs and children with bullet or knife wound that ended killing them. Seeing a decapitated body lying feet away from you is something hard to swallow. That alone can bring out the cowardice out of any man.
After standing in the line for a while, one of the rebels recognized by father. As it turned out, my father was his instructor at the police academy. He told his group that he can vouch that my father is a good man. He insisted they let us go. Reluctantly, the group give us passage to the other side of the city.
Recently, out of my busy schedule, I found myself watching television. I’m tuned in to TNT; watching Law and Order while having a box of chicken and taking down a couple of bottles of Heineken. At commercial break, after the Geico commercial came a Pepsi commercial. The Pepsi commercial accompanied a very familiar song. “What is love, baby don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me; no more”. The moment I heard the song, tear sat in the corner of my eyes as my hand began to shake. If I had looked in the mirror that instant, I’m sure I would have discovered that my eyes were past red. It’s quite funny how as a child I was able to repress those emotions. Now as an adult, those emotions seem to come out easily.
I look back on my life knowing that I’m indeed blessed to have made it this far. There was a good chance of me involuntarily becoming a child soldier or end up lying dead in one of those pits, missing some body parts. What is love? Love is that helping hand that God sends our way when he realizes we need one.

brainstorming (essay #2)

the second installation of the "I Essay"

for essay two i write about my experience during the first day of a 14 years civil war. I give background of where i come from before talking about the war and my feelings about it. the background introduces the story.

I included other characters and voices as they were present for that ordeal. other characters include; mother, my junior brother, and i found a way to present music as a motif and in a way an circling charecter to all that transpired.

Music=hardaway, what is love

i used the the pit scene as a recognition of growth (from child to adult).

when the rebel recognized my father, that became the climax of the story, eventhough it comes at the end.

lesson to be learned, God is always in control, and strange things happens, and somtimes happiness brings sadness.