When Fr. Robertson retired in 1984, he and his wife came back to Virginia. He was a Virginian born, bred, and educated; and they lived in Mechanicsville for twenty years. They visited us at St. Anne's a few times to attend funerals and other services and were always present at Diocesan events. But as Mother Robertson said they missed Liberia tremendously, and they came back in 2004. Fr Bolling was weakening, and rather then go into a nursing home, they came back to Liberia to be cared for by their friends (more like family) here in Robertsport. He died in 2006 and is buried high up on the bluff overlooking his school and the Atlantic Ocean. There could be no more peaceful spot, or fitting last few years, for this remarkable man. Now Marilyn lives alone in this beautiful place, surrounded by young people who adore her, many of whom are children and even grandchildren of students of St. John's. She seems very content in this small, beautiful corner of the world. I admire and respect this couple and their work greatly, and it is heartbreaking to see that the schools were destroyed during the war years and that there are no students there now.
On our trip back we stopped at a fishing village of Ghanians to buy dried fish. It was a wonderful place, full of children playing and women tending wood fires that were under pieces of huge oil drums covered with odd pieces of tarp to keep the smoke in. In the pungent aroma and colorful sights of adults and children alike wearing second-hand American tee-shirts, it was a thrill to watch Dr. Ayele first haggle over the price of fish, then make lasting friends by enquiring about them and their children. When he asked what they were doing to care for the health of their families, I thought Dr. Ayele was going to jump out of the car and demand that a Coca Cola truck take it's cargo back where they came from. "These children are malnourished" she exclaimed through gritted teeth, "and they give them coke!" She and Father Hipolito in the DR have a lot in common, and I again thought in wonder and gratitude about these amazing people who care so deeply.On our way back to the city we were stopped at checkpoints twice, and it was apparent that unscrupulous individuals in uniform wanted money before we could pass. But Dr. Ayele was great, refused to be cowed, did a little dressing down of the men, and we were quickly on our way. As you can see my admiration for this woman grows by the minute.
Monrovia is a lively city teeming with people, all doing business in the streets, selling everything from knock-off designer basketball shoes to car fenders. Shanty communities all around the city are evidence of the thousands of people who moved in from the distant villages to escape the ravages of the war lords during the years of terror. As much as things have changed in the last five years (I am told) it seems like this country is holding her breath, especially now with thousands of refugees flooding across the boarder from The Ivory Coast. But more about that later, for now I need to prepare for a busy day of Church tomorrow.
Fr. Jim
