PDF The Boy from Pleebo: A Story of Survival and Perseverance

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A true story of rags to riches. View all 3 comments. I loved this book. One nice thing about this type of memoir is that you know it will end at least partially happy "Sylvester Youlo, MD" is the author, after all. I keep flipping between 4 and 5 stars; it's not perfect, but its few imperfections did not detract from my overall interest and enjoyment much. It is compellingly written and offers completely new perspectives at least new to me on a terrifying part of a fascinating region's history.

This book gives insight into the day-to-day strugg I loved this book. This book gives insight into the day-to-day struggles in Liberia before and during the civil war through the eyes of a Grebo who grew up in a small town in Maryland County. Youlo comes across as frank and honest, both about his positive and negative personality traits. He details his struggles in a succinct and pity-free tone that is pretty refreshing. A few times the writing felt forced or clumsy, but not often. Memoirs are naturally going to be a bit one-sided and self centered, however I was disappointed that the author did not provide more information on the many, many people who helped him all along the way, mostly Alexander but also a dozen or so more.

Where are they now? Are they happy, healthy? He also, sometimes, appeared to be less grateful than I would expect for this help and the opportunities it afforded him, but I really do not think this was because he lacked any gratitude, it was more likely a byproduct of his writing style or just because of his self-described stoicism. Again, I loved this book and almost feel like Dr. Youlo is a friend after reading his life story, but this was one of the few things that struck me as a disconnect between the author and parts of his story.

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I highly recommend this to anyone who wants to learn more about Liberia or life in Western African countries, or daily life during violent civil wars, all while being guaranteed a not-depressing ending! I received a promotional copy of this book through a goodreads giveaway. Dec 19, Cheryl D rated it really liked it. First off, my apologies for not reviewing this book sooner. It was buried in a book pile and I could not find it. An inspiring story of survival in a war torn country and living as a refugee in another.

With much courage and perseverance Dr. Youlo finally arrived in the USA at the ripe old age of 25 determined to become a doctor.

G. I. Khun Kru|Paperback

While the writing lacks the finesse necessary to be a best seller the story is the type that could easily become a made for tv movie. Unfortunately, many people will rea First off, my apologies for not reviewing this book sooner. I hope that the reader realizes that Dr.


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Youlo is exceptionally intelligent which is not true of most people whether in a similar situation or not. That said, an interesting read that celebrates the human spirit as it struggles to achieve and become it's very best. Way to go Dr. Nov 08, Sidnaw rated it it was amazing. Youlo was my doctor when I was in the hospital last week recovering from a full knee replacement.

I asked him about his accent, guessed Liberia, and started asking questions. His answers were fascinating, and then he told me about this book about his life. Unfortunately I was out of the hospital before I finished the book, so I wasn't able to talk to him more about his life.

G. I. Khun Kru|Paperback

I obviously knew that he met his goal of becoming a doctor, but that didn't take away from enjoying this book and feel Dr. I obviously knew that he met his goal of becoming a doctor, but that didn't take away from enjoying this book and feeling the frustration and pain that Sylvester felt trying to achieve it. He is a remarkable man, and I hope that others will come to the same conclusion after reading this book, which I highly recommend. Thank you, Dr.

Youlo, for following your dreams so that the rest of us can benefit from your talent and dedication. Best of luck in your future goals. I have no doubt that you will achieve them! There are no discussion topics on this book yet. About Sylvester Youlo. Sylvester Youlo. Books by Sylvester Youlo. And shortly after that, I traveled far to lend my voice and writing again to a project that still has my heart, with an organization that works with children who have been trafficked or are at risk in West Africa.

I disconnected, put my emotions on the side. I still have hopes that one day, these stories can see greater light and these issues and these beautiful people, who have gone through hell and survived, will be heard. As I sit, I am listening to the power behind the voice of Leopoldo Lopez, the Venezuelan politician who refuses to be silenced and has gone against all odds to continue to speak.

I am in awe of the strength behind his voice, his story, his refusal to give up. It is voices like this, strength like this, that change the course of history, fuels fire and advocates for others. His voice fuels me. So, where does that leave me now… what will I use my voice for. I still feel that inner knowing that I am supposed to do something great and use my voice and the power of storytelling to create change… but where? We need to hear from the Rohingya, those in Syria, the people of Libya and the people of Venezuela and we need to listen. Is right now my time to navigate and find a way to tell these stories?

I am not sure. I am figuring it out. I am listening. Perhaps for now I can focus on how I use my voice in my daily life and with my family. My voice is a tool to teach my daughter to have strength and also to guide her, calmly, with care through this life. Having a powerful voice does not mean that it has to be loud but it can simply be a useful tool to help others and to help yourself. So, that is it. And it is perfect. For now, I may not travel far to witness what is happening around our world and write about it, but I will be right here, beside my daughter to guide her, to let her speak up and to fuel her to use her voice as power.

I will tell our stories. I will let her write her own. For we need more youth who speak up, for themselves and for others and who feel confident with their voice. And maybe, this inner feeling of knowing I am supposed to do something great with my voice, maybe that something great is this sweet girl full of strength that I am raising in a chaotic world. Love yourself first. Something that I need to remind myself of, always.

And right now. Show yourself love. Even just with the little things. There are other people and things that I love, deeply, but to show myself love, I try to remember a few little things because… I lose myself easily. But man, I have loved. When I met Eric, my husband, I was the best me and when I fell in love with him even before we had much of a conversation, it was perfect.

I loved myself, I was happy, I had a job I loved, in a home I loved, surrounded by good company. In turn, I was able to love Eric, just right. We loved fully, honestly and just enough to give each other time to ourselves, time I needed to continue to grow. Our long distance helped us learn to love from afar and when I chose to move back to him, it was for me. You see, I loved travel first, his country next and then him. Not that I did not love him as much, but I loved more than just him. The sun, the water, my friends, my decisions and myself. I was disconnected from much of the outside of my little world.

No stable internet connection, no tv and therefore no news.


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It was just me, my books, the ocean and my love. When he moved to the U. I started to sense myself slowly slipping away. Not because we were together, but because, it seems that I feel most alive when I am a bit out of my element, immersed in a new culture. I love myself the most during those times. I feel the most alive. So here, in the States my comforts can seem dull and I dive head first into love. I was lost in making sure Eric was happy. I mean, he left his life, his home, his culture and his family for me.

I felt responsible for his happiness. I nagged, constantly asking if he was happy. I made endless plans to continue the fun forgetting to also, take time for myself.

A Compendium of 40 Years of Epidemiological, Clinical, and Laboratory Studies

Shortly after Eric moved, I was pregnant with Aurelia. This was new, exciting and we were thrilled. My focus switch back to include myself, my baby and Eric. I glowed.

The Boy from Pleebo - A Story of Survival and Perseverance (Paperback)

Pregnancy for me, was one of the most beautiful times in my life. I felt perfect and I had this tiny life to care for yet still had the freedoms to roam about and make my own decisions and go on endless date nights with Eric without a sitter. And then, she came. The sweetest love. I love her endlessly. And that love, consumed me. I found the first few months of my life with Aurelia in my arms to be beautifully easy, comfortable and I thrived in it. But slowly, I was slipping. I was consumed by my love for her, making sure she was happy, snuggling with just her, co-sleeping, rocking her to sleep and being her food source.

My mojo went from an all time high to an all time low after Aurelia. I was touched out by the end of a long evening. I felt almost completely gone. So, I am here now. I can feel myself again. I can feel the love I have for Aurelia as she sings Taylor Swift in the mirror and makes a 30 minute hike turn into an hour and a half as she explores. I can feel the love for myself, taking the time I need to get exercise, having coffee at a local spot and writing stories. I feel the love and I have learned lessons and have learned something about myself.

I let love consume me and if ever I feel myself slipping again I am going to fight back, secure myself, the love I need, the time I need and then allow the rest to follow. If I can not love myself fully I can not have the energy I need to love others. I love me. Love you. The most beautiful month. New York City was cooling down just enough to make it tolerable and fashion week was getting ready to kick my butt for another season. For as long as I could remember I had been constantly chasing, something.

A boy, a new job, a distant place, swallowed in my hopes for a dream life and internal happiness. Then, somewhere between daily yoga, an exciting career, a. My mornings consisted of a trail run, home, dog walk, dress and drive 45 minutes to the train, a laugh with the sweet African man that worked where I parked my car, 15 minute train ride and 15 minutes walking upstream in a sea of city dwellers and commuters to my Flatiron 5th Ave office. My job as a production assistant for a small but incredibly wonderful fashion production company was exciting, fulfilling and in the opposite direction of my hope to work in writing and human rights, but I was happy.

My bosses were two fantastic individuals who kept me excited and laughing. And in my down time, I volunteered with an anti-trafficking organization who was rallying and actively rehabilitating girls who had been trafficked for sex in South East Asia I know, I know… two completely different worlds. This was where my passion and my heart felt it was doing the right work for the right reasons.

And then, like a shock to my heart and my plans, that thing I was slowly trying to change, let go of me. I felt confused but free. My girlfriends would text me and tell me it was time for me to leave this home and go see the world. Travel, write, explore and find myself even deeper. I spent my time after work exploring opportunities in anti-trafficking organizations abroad. I needed to go, but where? A month later, that exciting and fulfilling fashion job, let me go.

survival in the wild

The next day I had an email back from an organization in Ghana I had reached out to. By chance, the founder was looking to write a book and needed a ghost-writer. We skyped, our excitement jumping through the screen. But was I really ready to cross an ocean to chase my dream work? I was jobless, dumped, and had to move out of my apartment. But, I was happy. I embraced them, and slowly realized, I had actually manifested this entire situation.

The following week I was on the train to Washington D. Perhaps that is why it felt so right, there was no weight. And now I know, that this manifestation of mine was completely driven by fate, something I never believed in. I thought it was only about persistence and hard work, which is surely part of it, but there is a huge component in letting go and trusting.

On December 31st, , I flew through the night and landed in Ghana in a new year and new life. This story, a long one full of love, hope, happiness, tragedy and lots and lots of testing, is something I never dreamed could be real. But it is. It is my life. And I am so damn lucky. This time, I have some wonderful companions, my husband, daughter and all of you, along for the ride. There are stories to be told, places to be seen and a lot of letting go to do.