The Bulk Challenge Experience. I. Ezax Smith
items that it was easy to get things mixed up. Therefore, we put special markings to identify ours. In addition, we had to constantly keep watch on our luggage so that no one would steal them or remove things from within them. In this crowd, as would always be the case, there were people of all sorts: the good, the bad and the ugly. Some were there because they desperately wanted to travel; some were there just for the safety of the port; and there were those—the hustlers—who were there to take advantage of others. Such people can be found in every situation and under every circumstance. So we were watchful and monitored our only belongings. I say “only” because this was all we had. Whatever was left at home would be gone by the time we returned. It would be taken by the rebels, or by people in the community. That was the trend.
When people left their homes for fear of their lives, the rebels who entered the community would loot the abandoned homes. If the rebels didn’t do the looting, it would be returning neighbors who looted and then sold the looted things for little or nothing, just to get some money to buy food. When it came to hunger, most people just became mean to one another. I am reminded of the time we returned home in early 1990. The house was a total mess. Everything we left when we moved out was taken away by unknown individuals. Whatever few worthless items left behind were strewed all over the place. We had to start from scratch. The only household item we purchased was a sponge mattress that we put on the floor and slept on. No one wanted to buy expensive household items, since it was likely that running from place to place was imminent.
In those early 1990 days, when we had returned home, one day, I was strolling by the Antoinette Tubman Stadium (ATS). Soon, I spotted a book that looked like a book I used in graduate school. I didn’t want to believe it because where we lived on 9th Street was approximately many miles from the ATS. But as I walked closer and looked harder, I discovered that indeed it was my book. I opened it and I saw my name and personal stamp; “I. Ezax Smith Family Library.” Curiosity led me to open a few other books and certainly, the guy was selling my entire bookshelf. “Ain’t this something?” I thought to myself, considering the distance from my house to where this guy had his sidewalk book stand. I informed the vendor that the books he had were mine and showed him my ID. All he said was, “if you need any of these books, you will have to buy them. I am doing business, and I don’t know you.” Then he went on to tell the price I would have to pay if I needed any. I could not believe my ears. But I knew better than to argue or fuss over books that had practically no value at the time, to me. Moreover, I also knew what the consequence of trying to talk about getting them back could be. For one, I did not have money. Secondly, the stadium is across from the Barclay Training Center, a military barracks. That meant that this vendor could be an army personnel, a soldier or relative of a soldier. Any argument would be severely detrimental to me. I could get arrested, beaten or worst, killed. Finally, I concluded I really did not have need for any book. What would I be doing with books during this war time when I could possibly be running again? What would I be doing with books when I needed food for my children? I politely walked away thinking to myself how many persons like me could be finding their precious belongings with other people in the streets of Monrovia. Ironically, this sort of activity (selling stolen things) got so rampant that many areas around the city became known as the “Buy-Your-Own-Thing Market” - like a thrift yard sale.
A notable “Buy-Your-Own-Thing Market” of this sort was located on Johnson Street. Others were in places like Paynesville Red Light and Duala Market. At these sites, one could buy anything for cheap. This was where most people went to restart their lives and get basic things like pots, pans, spoons, cups, chairs and mattresses or bed sheets. Anything could be found here including one’s own things, but they had to be paid for, with no questions asked as to how the items got to the market. It was an interesting experience, but this too was the war and the effects of the war.
“After many days of waiting, the fear of uncertainty was reduced as the crew began loading luggage into the ship.”
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