Westpoint, on the coast, has no electricity because no one knows or even cares to know about the Children squatting on the beach whose blood soldiers drink and the skeletons posing in grotesque and miserable pictures of Cruelty and Despair and the prostitute Mother of an orphanage who makes the job sound like a good one because it is in Hell.
One will never find a hotter place, a filthier place, a place with more Suffering or where Women are more often Raped or where more Children are Dying of A.I.D.S. than in the United States’ one little African trophy.
The people were taken all along the Côte d’Ivoire and then returned to one little place. The capital, Monrovia, is named after the American President who willed this place. What may have been done with Good Intentions turned terrible as the Freed Slaves Enslaved the Native Population, making crops out of Men, eating each other, as we ate each other—their Toil and profound Suffering for the Sake of our Fat Stomachs.
And a hundred years after they returned, a Slave rose up, Rose up, and became President and Freed the Slaves and that’s when everything went to shit.
Was the West involved in the coup in 1980 and 1990 and 2000 and 2010? Who will deny that unrest in Africa contributes to our Material Wealth which is a Fat Stomach and a New Cellphone and ya-di-da while Children are Raped and Men and Women of all ages are Brutalized, Mutilated and Humiliated?
Liberia. Westpoint. Monrovia. Bloodstains and diseased rags. Heroinized Children, braindead, waiting to be fed.