Last Day in Liberia

It is my last day here in Liberia. My flight leaves tonight for Brussels, and from there I'll go to DC for the weekend. Nina and Paul left on Monday, and for the past couple days SP logistics coordinator Ben and I visited two more Early Childhood Development centers to collect data about the young kids and mothers who will be receiving the herring. While the children at the first ECD generally seemed to like us and be fascinated by us, some of the kids at the other ECDs were afraid of us (can't blame 'em really).

Tomorrow, the center we visited yesterday will be moving to a brand new building, and President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf will be coming to cut the ribbon and celebrate the opening. I'm working on a post with more background about her and the 17 year civil war that ended in '03.

I have only been here for about 13 days, and have seen a very, very small portion of Monrovia and Liberian life. That said, my experience here has been incredibly rich, and every day I have been amazed, fascinated, moved, puzzled, or otherwise had my mind and heart opened. I feel like I am leaving just as I am beginning to get a grasp of this place, and the lives of Liberians.
As I left the house I was staying in to walk to the SP office, where we will leave for the airport from, the sky began to dump rain. The air had felt pregnant all day, and seconds after I stepped outside the heavens gave birth to heavy, thick droplets that sent people running for cover. The rainy season is just beginning here, and this is the only rain I have seen during my trip. I let it fall on me, cooling my sunburnt back and shoulders. There's nothing like dense, tropical rain. It is loud, immediately drenching, and I think it makes plants looks greener. It is an entirely different genus and species from rain of the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. It cleanses and assures, reminding me with certitude of the power of nature, and ushering me out of Liberia into the next phase of life.