My story takes place in Liberia, a petite nation situated on the western seaboard of sub-Saharan Africa. Founded by freed Black Americans, it remains relatively obscure. I grew up with five sisters, one biological and four Liberian. I have fond memories of cooking snails in tin cans, traversing wetlands alongside African youngsters, procuring dehydrated fish from street merchants, and visiting villages where Whites had never set foot.
Bertie, my biological sister, and I grew up believing we were Liberian, even though our true heritage was quite the opposite: we were Americans—and White. Growing up, we were fully immersed in the customs and traditions of the West African society where our parents worked as missionaries.
At seventeen, I bid farewell to my family and embarked on a journey of over 6,000 miles to begin my college education in the United States. Soon after, a personal tragedy hit our home and thwarted the life I had carefully crafted in my mind.
Over time, I acclimated to my new home, got married, and raised three children with my husband while we launched a multi-ethnic church in our community.
Although I had taken a hiatus from academic pursuits to focus on raising a family, I later earned a Bachelor of Arts in Graphic Design. Afterward, I juggled the demands of being a pastor's wife and managing our family business.
The most cherished gifts in my life include my devoted husband, Artie, with whom I have shared forty years, my three grown children, and their ever-expanding families. My husband and I currently reside in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina.
In my debut memoir, I detail the pleasures of a childhood spent living in a third-culture environment and explore the life-altering tragedy that still impacts my life even forty years later.