Sekou Toure Avenue gang, Monrovia, Liberia

They crossed the street behind me, jay-walking between cars, footsteps closing in. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw I was outnumbered. I stepped to the side, hoping they would pass without incident. They were interested in what I was carrying. “What in da bag-o?” I looked at my two bags of modest vegetables, showing some ruby-red Roma tomatoes and onions. They were unimpressed. Perhaps they thought I was packing candy. A close call.


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