Congo Town. It is called this because many of the freed slaves from the Caribbean came from the Congo and moved here once they arrive in Monrovia.
The sky is overcast, like every morning, the 'sultry air already.
Take an expanse of red earth, disegnateci over a long strip of asphalt, four lanes, two for each direction, but also on occasion in three and one in the opposite direction. Add to that the cars battered yellow taxis, many, the important thing is that they sound the horn as much as possible, that there are at least seven people on board and to stop suddenly to the side of the road to charge a passenger more; mammoth truck with discharges that appear to chimneys; bus abandoned decades ago by some South American company; terrain of the United Nations and NGOs all you can imagine, some cycling and lots of motion (you can stand up in three, the important thing is not to the helmet).
them and tap the edge trees and buildings.
Four types: shacks with tin roofs, small brick houses, including some internet cafes that do not understand where she gets the connection, modern buildings, usually branches of banks and mobile phone companies, and skeletons of buildings, mostly works started and never finished, now covered by vegetation.
Disseminateci a myriad of shops, outdoor patios in some, others equipped with battered wooden shelves and a faded umbrella, which sell everything from phone cards, cans of gasoline, food, chargers for mobile phones, leather sofas, tires and wheels car (usually no more than a dozen tires of different sizes and as many wheels), bags, bread baskets, wicker, banana and citrus fruit, toothpaste, meat skewers, mattresses, water tanks, flip flops, plastic bags of cloth, colored T-shirts (no Rugo, not the Liberian national football team ...).
Now add in the people: children who are washed in tubs, men walking on either side or in the middle of the road, wheelbarrows, carts, women with pots on his head, students with their blue uniforms and yellow Many waiting in vain outside the schools because they arrived late and can not enter, workers waiting of a ride, outdoor barbers and lavamacchine.
definitely missing something, but the bulk is everything.
This is Tubman Boulevard, the road that connects my house to the hospital. A sort of long walk along the Liberia of today, full of contrasts indescribable but more and more active every morning keeps me glued to the car window. Yes, alas, the machine: the "security guidelines" do not allow this stretch of road on foot. And because in a week I received two calls, wait on the last day before break this rule. I can not enjoy a piece of Tubman Boulevard Live!
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