Dear Mr. President,
I have come to join you to sympathize with the families of the New Kru Town stampede. I empathize with the families whose loves ones lost their lives and those that got injured.
Mr. President, I ask that we mourn in another way. Three days is just white washing this grave issue.
Anecdotal data suggests that there are 250,000 At-Risk youths living in the streets of Liberia. The illicit drug industry is the fastest growing industry in Liberia. Outside of every school in Monrovia is a ghetto recruiting our children. Children are being born in the ghettos.
In my estimation by the end of 2023 the number will double to 500,000. Wow!!!!!
It might just take three years after elections before anything is done. Maybe, just maybe the number will be about 1.5m, a quarter of our population.
Mr. President, just think about how much damage this many persons with mental health and substance abuse problems can cause. It will mean the a fourth of our population with mental health disorders will be making decision for us. It means that they can elect their own/their kind to the House or the Senate.
Mr. President, instead of three days of mourning we need to declare a STATE OF EMERGENCY as this is the state we are in. We need to make appropriate budgetary allocation for the rehabilitation of these young people.
Many of us feel protected behind our high wall fences but if we do not attend to this emergency now we all will be stampeded one day. A fence is only as high as a tall ladder.
Our children will have to leave the fence to go to school. We will have to leave our fences to go to work. A neglect of this population is neglecting our future.
My President, three days is not enough. What happens after three days? Do we go back to business as usual where drug lords run the streets freely filling the pockets of high government officials for protections,
Few months back it was the police vs At-Risk Youth in Duala. Today it is at a crusade in New Kru Town. Where next?
Rev. Caleb S G Dormah
Head Pastor
Metro Harvest- the Church Without Walls