LIBERIA: SOMEHOW I STILL BELIEVE “The worst type of crying wasnt the kind everyone could see--the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it.” ― Katie McGarry Over the past few months I have chosen a deliberate blanket of silence as a personal self-preservatory means of coping with the monstrous grief and despair of the many lives lost from people I know, went to school with, interacted with in one way or another, or simply knew from a distance growing up and living in Liberia. Elbert Hubbard once said, He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.” On this very rare emotionally overwhelming occasion, I have chosen to speak as Shakespeare admonishes in the classic Macbeth, Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” Dr. Dada, Shurina, Koko, Eric Duncan, Tete, Mawinnie, Dr. Brisbane, Maliki, Anita, countless health care workers, people you and I both know...and the list is endless... were all preventable deaths that were allowed to happen. As painful as it is to accept, as a nation we failed them. We acted to slow. Responded too weakly. Doubted too long. Pocketed way too much. What do I mean? As a passionate young Liberian, since I finished college in 2009, all of my professional energy has been focused on advocating for an integrated approach to health care delivery in Liberia. Balancing PREVENTIVE (public health) medicine with CURATIVE (treatment). In fact both my undergraduate and graduate research and dissertations focused largely on emphasizing the need for a more robust public and environmental health system. One in which policy instruments would not just be pretty booklets on shelves but would be enforceable, living documents. Many of you can attest to having read my articles in the Daily Observer Newspaper and even here on Facebook over the past two years, all raising awareness on and advocating for a more holistic approach to healthcare delivery, more or less a marriage between preventive and curative medicine; a functional system, in which preventive measures would force a visible decline in the national burden of disease, as has been the case in other developing countries like ours. But sadly, as we volunteered our time and ideas, hoping to help in some minute way to the broader scheme of things, there were many who resisted our well-meaning efforts, laughing at the small, small children, fresh from school who want come tell us what to do. A good number of us small children, unable to withstand to constant resistance, undermining and office politicking, politely found our way to the private sector and INGOs, where our little effort at making the country we love a better place would at least, not be an object of scorn. Many months ago, when the first ebola cases were detected in Foya, in utter panic, I contacted several people of influence, alarming them of my fears and our lack of national capacity to manage, least of all cope with an outbreak. With my little background in environmental risk assessment and epidemiology, I painted several scenarios which I thought were compelling enough scientific evidence for the powers that be to take judicious action. Nothing will happen mehn! Again, people thought it was a joke. What this water girl say again? They said amidst laughter. Mind you, these were the MAJOR players. The people who could have DONE something then and there had they not taken things so lackadaisically as is our tendency sometimes as Liberians. So today, I wonder, where are those people now? Exactly what is the state of their conscience? How do they sleep at night knowing that with just a meeting, signature or phone call, they, like authorities in neighboring Cote dIvoire which has as yet not reported a single case despite being so surrounded, could have averted a national crisis? Sparing the lives of thousands? Preventing needless orphans? Strangulating the national economy? Potentially reverting whatever gains made in the past few years? In my view, those people are best left with God and conscience. But sadly to say, the worse did come to the worse. Each day, we hear death news of the few young professionals our beloved country has managed to count on over the past few years. Some of Liberias best and brightest. How do I feel in the midst of all this? I cant quite put into words. Some of you may be shocked, even traumatized by how I feel right now, which is why I chose the unquestionable blanket of silence. But guess what? As ugly as it seems now and as unbelievable as it may sound to some, somehow I still have not given up on Liberia. I still BELIEVE. J.M. Barrie, the writer of the childrens book Peter Pan says, “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.” So, somehow I still believe. My faith in God remains ever resolute and I do NOT think we would come this far as a nation and a people, having survived all that we have individually and collectively only to succumb to the hands of an unseen enemy. NO. God is still GOD. Even when we cry, HEs GOD and Hes in it with us. So as we continue to fight this deadly pandemic, I pray, I fervently pray, however, that if there is NOTHING we learn as a people from this tragically dark moment in our national history, I pray each of us comes to terms with the understanding that PREVENTION is, in most of lifes scenarios, always better than CURE. Because some things just simply have NO CURE. (Back to my silent reflections).
Posted on: Thu, 09 Oct 2014 13:01:48 +0000
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