Subha ki sair....

These are some pictures from yesterday's morning walk. I was up on top of Benson Street hill at 6:30 AM. It was cloudy and grey and, it felt refreshing. The view of the rest of the city was spectacular. To be able to gaze at the whole city from a certain height gives you a sense of wonder. It is the same sense of wonder when you are looking down on a city from a plane. 

The magnificent Masonic Lodge

Every single time I'm out there for my morning exercise, I'm struck by the significance of the address that the Masonic Lodge and American Embassy share. Since reading Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code and watching National Treasure, Freemasons have permeated our popular consciousness. The founding fathers of the US were freemasons and, hoped to build a country based on Enlightenment ideas. 

So, here in Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, a country founded by ex-slaves, deposited by the very Englightened US Government on the coast of West Africa, we have the American Embassy and Masonic Lodge opposite each other on top of a magnificent hill over looking the rest of the city. 

I see Liberians lined up waiting to go to the Consulate and, apply for visas: young and old. Many of them are probably going to go meet relatives. Some have won the visa in the lottery. Many of them want to seek better opportunities. 

There is a photograph of a signboard "Voices of the Voiceless Intl." I could not resist taking this picture. My dream is to be involved a coffee table book that will have some amazing photographs of the unique signboards and shop signs in Monrovia. 

I took a photograph of Ditco's building since I'm always admiring the beautiful flowers on the balcony. They are some of the few flowers on Randall Street. 

I always wonder what Randall Street would be like if it had trees. I wonder what Randall Street would be like if it had art galleries that show cased some political art instead of auto spare parts shops. I always wonder what Randall Street would be like if it had some eclectic cafes where poets and artists mingled instead of the myriad of building materials shops where businesses were making profitable deals with local procurement officers from NGOs, UN Agencies and Government Ministries. I wonder what Randall Street would like if it were the centre of a cultural renaissance.

A poem about a city in West Africa.

"Are there lilac trees 
In the heart of town? 
Can you hear a lark in any other part of town? 
Does enchantment pour 
Out of every door? 
No, it's just on the street where you live. "