I was in Liberia for a month more than a decade ago carrying out fieldwork for the UN peacebuilding mission. On my second night in Monrovia I threw out the tediously filled-in health and safety protocols my university research committee had mandated, asked the hotel clerk to call me a taxi and went to a party one of my contacts had told me about.  

I arrived outside the high walls of an exclusive expat apartment complex by the sea. The street was lined with Toyota Land Cruisers, all embossed with the names of different aid organisations, with local drivers chatting. Once inside I was met with a magnificent view of the sun setting over the Atlantic Ocean, with a throng of revelling Western aid workers having a pool party.  ..

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