On a Bicycle

I delight in biking through Liberia for many reasons. I get a fuller feel for the land, hearing, seeing, smelling, feeling it. It often proves to be an adventure. I get a little exercise while I'm at it. In addition to all of these bonuses, I find that biking offers me a much needed middle ground. I'll come back to this idea later.

I intended on learning what it is like to be poor when I arrived here. I was wrong. I have a better sense for it, but what I have really learned is what it is like to be incomprehensibly wealthy. This is coupled with a tremendously powerful social privilege. They go hand in hand. Whether or not I want this is entirely irrelevant, for I will be treated differently.

No matter where I go, I will be treated with privilege. When I stand by the road with a few friends waiting for a taxi, cars will stop, eject their passengers, and offer us a ride with a smile, whether I like it or not. I don't. (We turn and walk away not making eye contact.) When I walk into a church or school, I will be ushered to sit in a seat of privilege either in a special chair in the very front, or even on the stage looking back at everyone. I have to firmly refuse with determination to simply sit on the bench like everyone else. I can drop the equivalent of three week's wages for someone here (if they can find a job) on a single meal of food. I have smiled and walked through multiple security check points where the very guards, standing next to signs posting 'trespassers will be treated violently', become my personal tour guide. I can go to, and through a prison, because of privilege. Anywhere from one to four prisoner's freedom could be purchased with the amount of money I usually keep in my wallet back home. This privilege is very real.

This privilege makes me sick deep down inside. I am treated as if I am a superior human being. I am ashamed to say that I am treated like a god sometimes. Why pray when you can ask Scott for ______ ? (fill in the blank with 'freedom from prison', 'a visa to America', 'restored sight', 'an unimaginable sum of money') ...I better understand why books written on development from my faith tradition caution about this! It is dangerous to the heart to become conditioned by this for any length of time. I shutter at the thought of "Oh, I must deserve this!" Consequently, they must... not?

It is this very separation that caused such wickedness and bloodshed in this nation. It is rooted in some 133 years of former American slaves essentially making slaves out of the locals. It is rooted in separation and elitism. And then, there was war- a hellish, uncivil, child soldier, rape and pillage the locals, half of the country on international food supplements, hundreds of thousands of refugees created, illegal rainforest lumber and blood diamond funded, war, in its entirety.

And then I come rolling down the road on a bicycle, the gears in my head and heart spinning between idealism and realism over and over. In this less than eloquent dance, I'm after the middle ground. I will acknowledge the privilege because I never intended on changing the social fabric of an entire country anyway. Given this, I will do what I can within this position of privilege, taking guidance from an old Jewish prophet Micah: "He has showed you, O man, what is Good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." When I go to prison, I will start out by clarifying that I am no more or less of a man in God's eyes because of my skin colour or passport. I will make eye contact with the legless beggar, shake his hand, and ask what his name is, offering dignity not money. I will seek to buy locally produced and prepared food at local prices. I will continue to praise the beautiful side of the land and people of Liberia when opportunity provides. And I will continue to ride my bicycle.

When I ride the bike I am not wisped away in a massive Land Rover that acts as a tank. I am right there along with everyone else. I can ride in the rear of our group making eye contact with people, smiling and nodding my head, acknowledging people. I will grin when others find it absurd that people of such privilege aren't in their Land Rovers, or even in a chartered taxi, but on a bike? Like some of the people here? Yes. And when it rains profusely, I will laugh so that the bewildered masses know that it is ok to laugh too, and that I understand. That I understand, that they understand. That we're in this together, or at least working slowly in that direction.

It's not a game. There is no use in pretending that I'm from here. I'm not. And I only begin to understand. And the people here are not from my home. There is no use in pretending this either. But we are from the same mass of humanity on this Earth. We are all God's children. We are all the same in God's eyes, in God's heart. It is here that there are many budding relationships that are beginning to cross the divide. Individual relationships that create community can do anything.