Around the old True Whig Party headquarters, a spooky burnt-out high-rise downtown I stopped to snap an image of the modernist bass reliefs on the side, a kind of seventies propaganda for the then fading settler party.
The building is the site of a dispute between heirs of the old ruling True Whig Party who claim the building is theirs and the Liberian state, which claims it as a public good. Most people I've talked to believe that since the building was paid for by membership levies during a time of one-party rule, the building is de facto public owned. It's a testament to the current Liberian order's True Whig roots that this dispute is left to fester at all.
As I was photographing the building, two teenage boys, perhaps fifteen, asked me to take their picture. They had been using a camera phone to capture each other standing across the street in front of the central bank building across the street, a Chinese looking glass and steel renovation that they told me was a "fine building."
Sekou, the taller of the two boys was returning to Guinea after a month in Monrovia visiting relatives and so they were spending the golden hour taking snapshots and selfies with each other. They wanted me in their photos too. We spent some time trying different poses, looking directly at the camera from a distance, close-ups staring into the distance.
There's something about male friendship in West Africa that can be really sweet in a way that American masculinity can't handle. It's not uncommon for two young men to walk down the street holding hands as close friends. I left the pair at a bench on Broad street giggling as they scrolled through the photos on their phone.