Excerpts of Victory Over Difficulties
Excerpts from the author's birth and his experience meeting white people for the first time.
CHAPTER ONE: IN THE BEGINNING
Papa Menti would wake up early in the morning, about 5, and go to the bush. He would return at night. I asked Aunty Ama why he left early and returned when we were about to sleep. She would say he had to go on the farm, and sometimes, she would say he went fishing. But there was no farm in New Krutown, Monrovia, Liberia, where we lived, and Papa never talked about fishing. There were no fishing hooks in the House. My older cousins would take food for him in the bush. They would not allow me to go with them, even though I cried and begged.
I learned he left to avoid the government tax collector when I was four.
In the 1920s, under President Charles D.B. King, the Liberian government imposed a head tax on the native people. The head of the family or the household was required to pay the tax. The government would arrest the head if he did not pay or could not pay. In the rural area, the enforcement was more rigid. A soldier accompanied the tax collector to arrest you if you did not pay. But most of the inhabitants did not have jobs.
In Monrovia, most natives migrated to the city from the interior for better conditions. They had no education and no skills for good or better employment. The men did fishing, worked on the ships, or did day jobs as helpers. The women, like my cousins, sold fish, palm nuts, fufu, starch, and other foodstuffs at the market.
In the interior, the women primarily worked on the farm, while the men did fishing and hunting. The government imposed a customs duty on natives who traded on the sea. In 1910, the government enforced a hut tax on the natives, requiring and demanding them to pay $1.00 per hut. Paying taxes was difficult for them. The soldiers beat them to spend the taxes and looted their belongings when the government failed to pay the salary of the force. At the same time, the government denied the natives the right to vote.
The level of oppression of the natives by the settlers differed among the counties. For example, while the Maryland County settlers allowed some relative economic and political freedom to the natives, the settlers in Sinoe County suppressed the Kru natives, including unjust killing, economic oppression, and taxation without representation. Indeed, as Anthony Morgan noted, by 1912, the Sinoe authority repressed not only the common natives but also meted out "arbitrary execution of native chiefs by a senator with the salient acquiescence of Monrovia." The Kru complained but to no avail. Consequently, they revolted from 1915 to 1916.
However, the government granted most natives citizenship in about 1912 during the presidency of Arthur Barclay. The regime did so to stop the encroachment of France and Great Britain into Liberian territories, control native people, and halt international criticism of discrimination. Moreover, remember that the imposition of customs duty, hut and head taxes, the denial of voting, and other civil rights led to the rebellion discussed. The government, in retaliation, burned Kru villages and executed over 65 of their chiefs. The international community did nothing about human concern and conscience as a world body.
From 1847 when Liberia became independent to 1912, the natives were not considered citizens. They were deprived of human rights, though they were lords of the land, and allowed the American Black enslaved people in 1822 to settle on the soil now called Liberia. A few years after their arrival, the Congos, intercepted African slaves from the Niger Congo Delta, came to Liberia under the sponsorship of the American Colonization Society (ACS). Philanthropists in the US in 1816 established ACS to send Black former slaves to Africa in 1820. The Society put the Congos under the tutelage of the American settlers.
Coming from America, the settlers felt they were better, though they were illiterates and socially outcast in the US and constituted less than 10% of the Liberian population. Hence, they developed and fostered a system of social and political suppression and control in Liberia with cultural and historical falsehoods and myths. Indeed, the American settlers created a hierarchy, a social pyramid having them at the top, the Congos in the middle, and the natives at the bottom. Instead of embracing the natives to form a unified country, the American settlers named themselves Americo-Liberians to differentiate themselves from the natives and the Congos. They mistreated the Congos who were put under their care and made the Congos servants. But at the same time, the Congos felt superior to the natives.
Further, in the social relationship, the Congos sided with the Americo-Liberians in solidarity with their shared status as settlers from a different land. The Congos saw more options to join the Americo-Liberians than the African natives. Indeed, the consideration of opportunities disregarded past mistreatment by the Americo-Liberians. Thus, the Americo-Liberians and the Congos ruled Liberia and the native majority for over one hundred and thirty years. I was born under this condition.
I was born in Liberia in 1946 when natives received voting rights. My mother, Teah Kunpoh Bleh, came from Butaw, Sinoe County. My father, James Nyanfore, came from Grandcess, now part of Grand Kru County. They were natives of Liberia and were of the Kru tribe. Data show that the Kru ethnic group is a semi-Bintu of the Kwa linguistic-speaking people, comprising the Bassa, Grebo, Krahn, Dey, Sapo, Belle, and the Kru. As a tribe, the Kru are called Krao in the Kru language and are divided into dakos; sub-groups such Boo, Gbitao, Jlao, Jlokqwa, Karboh, Niffu, Betu, and Sikleo.
The dakos, in turn, are divided into pantons or clans. As a document cites, "the dakos migrated into the various coastal parts of Liberia at different periods and were ruled by kings or elders." Though Liberia is the national home of the Kru, they also live in other West African countries, i.e., Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Sierra Leone.
The Kru are seafarers who worked on ships and traveled to different countries. They were warriors in the past and warriors by nature. According to sources, "they do not like to be taken advantage of. They are not afraid to speak their minds. Further, they have traveled the world, helped build communities abroad, and taught the Europeans how to navigate the sea". The Kru also served in the Royal Navy during World Wars II.
My mother came from the Boo dakor and daddy from the Sikleo of the Nyanpor or the Meteor Panton. She was born on May 5, 1905. My maternal grandparents were Juah Teah Gbe and Teah Kunporh. Teah Gbe, the wife, came from Butaw, Sinoe County. She was of the Chelech quarter. Her husband, Kunporh, was from Gbitao Klapau, the interior part of Picnicess. He was of the Geebo quarter or panton. They birthed seven children, six girls and one boy.
My mother was the youngest. Her mother was quiet, and her father was active and a man of wonders with spiritual power. Family members never told me the details of his power. My mother lived in Grand Bassa County as a girl and later returned to Sinoe. She first married Mansnoh Say-gepoh, who left for Sierra Leone and did not return. After, she married Gbey Tarpeh, a Karbor Kru. They bore my sister Tanneh and brother Nyamieh. The son may have died as a baby or boy. Mother never talked about him. The marriage ended disappointingly like the first.
Mom often told the story that while living in Butow on the sea coast of Manwah, she met my father and other young men from Grandcess. They were on their way to Monrovia for education. The town chief brought them to my mother's house as guests. She had a brick house, which was considered then beautiful and decent. My father told her his traveling plan for school in Monrovia but did not have a place to stay. He asked my mother if she knew someone in Monrovia he could stay with temporarily. She told him of her older sister Ama Tugbe. The latter was residing in Krutown in Monrovia with her (sister) husband, Papa Menti.
Fortunately, when my father came to Monrovia, he discovered that he and Papa Menti were related. My father's grandmother was an aunt of Pa Menti. She came from Picnicess, a neighbor of Grandcess.
My dad lived in Krutown with the Mentis while attending Monrovia College, a high school. Krutown was located in Central Monrovia in the area now called West Point. Kru people predominately occupied the town. Before or in the 1940s, Kru from the Southeast and Sinoe County vicinity came to Monrovia for education and greener pastures. They settled in Krutown. Apparently, the town was divided into dakos, including Karboh, Boo, Jlao, Gbitao, Sikleo, or the Grandcess Kru. It had a governor.
Soccer was a major sport in old Krutown. It was a social organization that united its members and community. The primary team was called Bame, meaning "let's die" in Kru.
My mother joined my father and the family in Krutown. In 1945, the Liberian government abolished the town to establish an industrial site for development, which never happened. At first, in 1944, the government wanted to construct the Freeport of Monrovia on the site, but the Kru people protested.
Most of the inhabitants of Krutown migrated to New Krutown, an area located on Bushrod Island in Monrovia. The government established the new town specifically for the Kru in 1945. Apparently, the inhabitants understood that the government would build a port on Bushrod Island in a subsequent year. In 1948, the government constructed the Freeport of Monrovia as a gateway for the country's economic development on the island. Raymond Concrete Pile, an American company, supervised by the US Navy, built the port that year. Residents of New Krutown worked at the port. It provided an added employment opportunity for the people. They did not have to only depend on fishing for a living.
My mother said she could not give birth, a problem that greatly worried her as a young woman. She could not understand why she could not, for she had given birth to two other children in a past relationship. She was afraid of losing my father, who was also young. Giving birth to a child is vital in African traditional culture. Particularly the in-laws, the husband's family, can pressure the wife to provide them with a grandchild. A boy child was an extra blessing; he would be an heir and continue the family legacy. My mother allowed my father to have a young concubine to please my father. She bore a girl child, Boryonoh, my older sister. My mother did everything to conceive but could not. Some people had advised my father to leave my mother for the concubine.
Then, one day, my mother said she had a dream in which a man in White held a baby. She wanted the child, but the man refused. She cried to no avail. She woke up and told my father about the dream. A few days later, she had the same vision. This time, the man came with the condition that she would have the child provided she cleared her body from tobacco smoke and other substances dangerous to her health. He also required, accordingly, that she be committed to serving God. She agreed. My mother said she was covered with smoke and vomited in her dream after her agreement. She woke up and again narrated the dream to my father. Within a few months, she was pregnant.
In early 1945, they moved from old Krutown to New Krutown. On March 8, 1946, I was born in Monrovia in Point Four, New Krutown. Point Four is located west of the town from the Freeport. It got its name from the advent in 1951 of the "Point Four Program," a US technical assistance project. The government located White American expatriates in the area to work on the project. The place was an improved community with electricity and fine concrete houses. Dr. West or the Colonel West Community was situated near the Atlantic Ocean in the coastal beach area. It was a fine place with an ocean view.
West of New Krutown in the lagoon area, which has a water view with the St. Paul River entering the Atlantic Ocean, gives the area spectacular scenery. But our house was a hut with a thatched roof where bats slept at night. They were also residents of the house, kind of. The house faced the main car road. A road on the right connected the main street to the residence of the American expatriates and the house of Colonel West, an American medical doctor.
New Krutown had three main parts. On the east was Point Four, followed by the Karbor Kru and the Nuan section with the lagoon area. Alfred Mensah built his house near the car road of Point Four. He was a Ghanaian who operated a major construction company. Bobo town, after Point Four, was home to old man Bobo, a Bassa man who was considered an original resident or owner of the site. Like in old Krutown, soccer was the primary sport. New Krutown was later the home of soccer clubs such as YB (Young Boys), Lone Star, and Yankee. The teams kept the town together. Dennis Nyanfore and "Taxi," a goalkeeper and a fast-running player, were among the best footballers in New Krutown. Each team had its women supporting group dressed uniformly in colorful African attire, singing and cheering for their teams. Didhwo Welleh Twe was the political leader of the people, the Liberian downtrodden.
The churches were also instrumental in the community. Three main churches were the Grandoe Church, now the Abosso Apostolic Faith Church, the Peter Wleh Church, and the Trinity United Methodist Church. The first two were Pentecostal churches. The church provided the spiritual needs and guidance of New Krutown. The church people were mainly happy about my birth. It was a dream that came through. During some church services and at some programs, Mammy would testify about my birth. I would get embarrassed as a boy whenever she told the story. I got too much attention. People would walk to me and say, "God brought you to this world for a purpose."
About a year after my birth, ma and dad moved to Claratown, where they built a house. In Claratown, my father had another child, my sister Elizabeth. Mother approved of her mother as daddy's concubine. I always needed to understand why.
Mother kept her promise to God and left me in New Krutown with the church people. I stayed with Aunty Ama and Uncle Menti with Pastor Samuel Doe, the head minister of the Samuel Doe Church, located in Mombo Town in the Dulai area. The church is now in New Krutown and named Guiding Star, a Bible Way Church. I was named Samuel upon baptism. My father had no qualms with the name.
Interestingly, it was his father's Christian name. Dad had promised that he would name his first boy after his father. Dad did not say much about him and Grandcess. To the church, the name was proper for my birth.
I was the namesake of the pastor. Another pastor called Kun wanted me be named after him. My middle initial is K, which was good for the pastor. However, it was the initial for my paternal grandfather's traditional name, Kiah. My mother liked the Kun name because it was similar to her father's name, Kunporh.
Aunty Ama was a committed and devoted Christian with a special gift of healing. She could tell things and cure the sick. Patients came from different parts of the city for healing. The home was a house of prayers. We prayed three times a day, sometimes four or more, when the spirit, the Holy Ghost, was in the place. I helped distribute the holy water and the holy oil in the morning and evening. Patients also took pepper water mixed with holy oil in the nose to treat illnesses such as common cold and fever. Further, parents used the treatment for punishment for a misbehaved child. I took the medications with the patients, though I was not ill or misbehaved. Sometimes, I was angry for going through the regiment. But it did me well. I did not get seriously sick as a child.
I was quiet. I spent my spare time alone. People complained that I looked pitiful and like an orphan when I looked quiet. They said I looked at people with cat-like eyes, stirring at them and saying nothing. But I was also considered a lucky boy, a child with a lucky charm. When I accompanied my cousins to sell in the market, shoppers would purchase all their goods. The news got around; therefore, in the morning, my cousins would fight over who should take me to the market. I enjoyed the attention. The prayer and the church services were tedious.
We cooked the Sunday food the night before or early Sunday morning. We did not eat until later after church. The church was located in Mombo Town, as mentioned before. There was a far distance from Point Four to the church. We walked about two miles on the train tracks. In the Pentecostal church, we visited sick members after service. I was mad when we visited. Sometimes, we returned home late afternoon. I was tired, hungry, and happy when we finally arrived home.
Before church service, we woke up early, singing and praying. I was usually sleepy, trying to stay up. But the sleep would go away by standing, singing, and shouting. At first, I complained about waking up for the Sunday morning prayer. Nevertheless, as I grew up, I got used to it. Praying and singing in my language have become part of me. It has helped me greatly. I usually wore the same clothes each Sunday church service. They were like uniforms, because I did not have enough clothes.
On some occasions, my mother brought clothes for me. I always wanted shoes. One day after church, I remembered a man got a pair of shoes and wanted me to try them on. I eagerly and happily tried them, but they did not fit. I tried again and again as the man requested them back. "Sorry they did not fit your feet; I'll take them to the other boys," he said. I was disappointed and cried.
I took Aunty Ama and Uncle Menti to be my biological parents up to the age of four. When my mother came to see me, I called her aunty. She never told me she was my birth mother, nor did my father.
I learned that my father almost killed me when I was about two years old. Accordingly, because Aunty Ama had forbidden smoking on the premises when my father came to visit me, he would take me to the back away from the house to smoke cigarettes while holding and praising me. He would blow the smoke in the air. The smoke bothered me, and I later felt sick. I was told I appeared to Aunty Ama in a dream about what my father was doing to me and warned that I would die if he continued. Aunty told my father about the dream when he next visited and advised him to stop. My father admitted to the act and vowed to stop smoking around me. The dream further convinced him of my mother's earlier dream and my birth.
"So Kiah, you reported me to your aunt"? That was what my father told me. Daddy did not come to see me since Aunty Ama's dream. However, he came when I was four, after almost two years, and James was over a year old. Father arrived late Sunday afternoon after church service for a meeting. Another lady accompanied him. The woman was friendly and beautiful. I ran to greet them as they were approaching. Daddy lifted me, and when he put me down, the lady said, "Hello, Kiah, how are you doing, fine boy?
"Fine, aunty," I politely answered while she held my hand, walking toward the house. Mother arrived first. As usual, I was happy to see her. She would bring me things whenever she visited. But the meeting was exceptional. It was a family meeting called by my father. They met in front of the house near a plum or mango tree facing the main road. I remembered Uncle Menti, Aunty Ama, and other family members sitting on a long bench and rotten chairs. With James on her back, Mother sat on a short bench. I sat on the ground with both feet crossed in front of her. I was looking anxiously.
Facing us on the other side were my father and the lady. Aunty Ama stood up and called the meeting to order. As I understood more of tradition, the head man usually calls a meeting to order. But aunty was such an influential and powerful person that she took charge of this unique gathering.
She said. "We have gotten together today because our son Nyanfore has come to see us, so we meet here to hear from him." She completed and sat.
Daddy stood up and thanked my mother's family. He narrated how he met my mother, stopped at Butow, his coming to Monrovia, and reunited with my mother in Monrovia.
He added, "When my wife joined me in Monrovia, we lived with her sister and uncle Menti. My wife sold starch and helped with my high school education. I worked part-time to help support my family. My wife bore me a fine son". He pointed at me, and the audience's eyes turned to me. I felt shy.
Dad then continued. "She also gave me another son, my namesake Nyanfore resting on her back. I thank her for the children and all she and my in-laws have done for me. I am now living in Bong County, attending college. I am now bringing her to you to say that I am ending the marriage, and I will take care of the children and send support," he said.
James was either asleep or awake with all this happening. It was not a folktale in which the storyteller says, "Once upon a time," and the audience in chorus response answers, "Time." It was a reality in which a marriage between two people was to end. I did not quite understand the meaning and, of course, the consequences. James did not know either.
I knew something was happening when my mother cried at the end of daddy's speech; the tears ran down when my father said the marriage was over. As her cry got louder, she could not control it. I felt her pain and tried to console her, standing up and holding her lappa and crying too.
Uncle Menti got up and tried to respond, but Aunty Ama rushed in and interrupted.
"Nyanfore, Nyanfore, Nyanfore," she shouted my father's name three times. "How many times have I called you"? She asked to confirm; she continued.
"You cannot do that; Bleh is your wife, she struggled and suffered with you, and now you are moving up and want to leave her? Where will she be? She gave you two good sons, and you are leaving her"?
Mother was still crying. Aunty turned to her.
"Bleh," my mother's traditional name, "Do not cry. Our God, the creator, whom we serve, will dry your tears". "Your children will grow up well, and God will be with them and bless them." She ended.
Daddy was not a good speaker. As I observed growing up, he stuttered at times when speaking. Although my father liked arguing, daddy disliked confrontation with a female. He did not talk as Aunty Ama finished. As I learned later, the lady with my father was his new wife. As I stated, she was pretty and friendly when I greeted them.
Growing up, I thought about the meeting. I asked myself why father brought her to the gathering. Was he intended to hurt my mother? On this occasion, he ended the marriage with my mother. Why did he come with a new wife at such a time? Why not at a later date? Thinking about the pain and sorrow he inflicted on my mother, I hated him more. I did not see him as I got a little bigger.
Then, one day, he came to see me. Aunty Ama was at the church on a weekday, and Uncle Menti was out. He brought some toys and clothes for me, and I was happy. "Kiah," he said, "I am taking you with me to Suakoko. Go and get your things".
I started crying; I did not want to go, as he commanded me to pack my clothes and hurry up. Besides the patients, no other adult family member was around. He was rushing me, knowing that Aunty was out and could come anytime. An automobile was outside waiting. As he helped me put my things in the car, Aunty Ama arrived.
"You devil, where are you taking my son? He is not getting in that car with you", she firmly said.
She grabbed my arm as my father tried to push me into the car. She moved daddy away. “You think you can come here and take him away"? Yes, we are poor, but we have dignity, and we are not a pushover", she said.
Aunty and dad got into a scuffle. My dad held my left hand on one side while Aunty had the right. I was in the middle, wishing Aunty would win. In the end, she prevailed. She tore daddy's shirt up, and he left.
I did not see my father for years. He did not come to New Krutown to visit me, and, as I learned, neither did he see James in Claratown, where my ma was. The years, I think, were 1951 or 52.
1951 was an important year in Liberian political history. It was an election year between President Tubman and Didwho Welleh Twe, a Kru, a native Liberian. It was the first election where a native, through a registered political party, vowed to become president of Liberia. Since the country's independence over 130 years ago, a native Liberian has never been a president. Americo-Liberian or Congos, up to 1980, had occupied the presidency.
The year was tense; New Krutown was Twe’s stronghold where he lived. His supporters met at night; the churches were meeting grounds. Aunty Ama was a religious leader, praying with Anna Geefin and others for Twe's victory. As his spiritual adviser, aunty knew him and prayed for him. Uncle Menti was his foot soldier. Mr. Wesley Juah Wiah Wesseh, who later became my church pastor, was his bodyguard. Allegedly, the government threatened Twe's life. Wesseh was said to have moved him "from one house to another at night and often dressed him as a woman to disguise" Twe's identity. Our parents advised us not to be out late, that the government death squad, called "you too late," was out to arrest and kill Twe's supporters.
In the Kru churches, the people would sing, "In the end, when we take victory and occupy our rightful place, no one would defeat us but God, the creator." It was a battle cry for political power. But we, the children, also sang that song in Kru. We knew it to be a religious song; we sang it in church with our parents.
Didwho Welleh Twe was a Liberian born of a Kru parentage of the Nana Kru dakor on April 14, 1879. He attended Cushing Academy and completed his high school education at St. Johnsbury Academy, both boarding prep schools in America. He graduated from Rhode Island College, now called Rhode Island University. Before becoming a presidential candidate, Twe served as a representative for Montserrado County in the Liberian legislature. But in the 1920s, the House expelled him and others for advocacy against forced labor practices.
Twe was internationally known. In America, he had influential friends, including Senator John Morgan of Alabama and writer Samuel Clements, who was literary known as Mark Twain. In addition to being a representative, Twe was a wealthy man with a large rubber farm before entering presidential politics. Also, he served as a commissioner in the Liberian interior and was well-known and respected among the natives.
I did not see Twe when I was a boy. People said he visited our church in Mombo Town near his residence and farm, called Twe Farm. He was an average-sized man in his picture, with a light complexion and a forehead mark. Traditionally, the Kru tribe had this mark to distinguish them from other tribes. The Kru used the mark to protect them from slavery. Accordingly, slave traders avoided capturing the Kru when they saw the mark because the tribe would fight and refuse enslavement.
Twe and some key supporters founded the United People's Party, UPP. But Sinoe County Senator R.F.D. Smallwood stopped the probate of the party article of incorporation, questioning the party membership. Consequently, the government prevented the party formation. UPP then joined a coalition with the Reformation Party, an organization of natives and settlers. It selected Twe and Tyson Woods as its standard-bearer and running mate, respectively. Twe came from Montserrado County, and Woods from Grand Bassa County. These two counties were among the four original counties that founded the Republic of Liberia. Hence, the selection of the party candidates was strategic. It also selected Thorgues Sie, dad's relative, as party national chairman. Sie was from Grandcess, daddy's birthplace.
Another factor in Twe's favor was the passage of women's suffrage. It granted voting rights to women in that year, thanks to Tubman. Besides natives constituting most of the Liberian population, adding women to the electorates was a plus. Moreover, as indicated, Twe was famous in the Liberian hinterlands. So he had a good chance of becoming Liberian first president of tribal background in a fair and peaceful election.
To overcome this challenge, Tubman branded Twe a "tribalist, a divisive figure, an inherent traitor, and a sophisticated bigot." Tubman further maintained that Twe was not a real Kru and did not have the support of most Kru people. Tubman was referring to Twe's parents, who were from Nana Kru, a section of the Kru in Sinoe County considered by some elite Kru as bush Kru with less educated people.
Tubman began influencing well-known and educated Kru from the established Kru sections, including Grandcess, Picnicess, Sasstown, and Sanguine. They are the sea-coast Kru with many educated people, most of whom were desirous of government jobs. Tubman was successful in the above strategy as many educated Kru denounced Twe. They felt that Twe was a lesser Kru and did not deserve the presidency. They may have felt that one from their sections should be president when appropriate. But Twe's popularity and goodwill among the Kru seemed stronger. Twe helped many Liberians. For instance, he assisted Professor Plennyono Gbe Wolo in Wolo’s high school education in the US. Wolo became the first African to graduate from Harvard University. Wolo was influential in Liberia and in the US. Unfortunately, Wolo died before the election.
People's liberation struggle sometimes comes with a betrayal. The deputy police commissioner, a Kru, and another Kru were said to have been the prominent persons who spied on and reported Twe and his key supporters to the authority for persecution. The betrayal created further division among the Kru during the election. Tubman failed to stop the Twe movement and turned to the political machinery. The government denied the party from registering for the election, claiming that the party was late for registration. Therefore, Tubman became the only candidate on the ballot and won the election unopposed.
Before Election Day, the government arrested and jailed Twe's key party members. A few reportedly were killed. Also, the authority harassed, threatened, and forced Twe to go into exile in Sierra Leone. After the election, the government charged the jailed members with sedition at a court hearing that found them guilty and sentenced them to multiple years. Indeed, the state accused them of reporting to the UN and the US regarding the election and thereby inviting foreign entities to interfere into Liberian domestic affairs. They lost their appeal to the Supreme Court in 1954.
While Twe was in exile, the elders told us, the children, he would return to liberate the people. But that did not happen. The government denying his participation in the contest dashed the hope and aspirations of the native majority. Since the election, no other native Liberian had openly challenged the settler regime in an election. Twe returned to Liberia in 1960 after Tubman pardoned him. Twe died in 1961.
His death amounted to a great loss. The natives, particularly the Kru tribe, saw him as the messiah. He had the education, wealth, contacts, popularity, and the human care and heart. Moreover, he did not expose himself prematurely. He acquired the needful before entering into presidential politics. During my boyhood after his death, no other Liberian of native background took his place. Most of the educated natives and their children assimilated into the culture and society of the ruling class, making tribal culture and traditions more inferior. This behavior gave the Americo-Liberians greater power and control.
Fourteen years after my birth, Liberia made a positive history. The country and Ethiopia, former members of the League of Nations, took the case of South West Africa against South Africa in 1960. Though South Africa reacted that Liberia had no moral standing to charge the apartheid state of inhumanity considering Liberia's treatment of the natives, the world applauded Ethiopia and Liberia for the lawsuit.
Also, in the 1960s, Liberia became a beacon of the African independence struggle. These events occurred during William Tubman's presidency. Under Tubman, Liberia opened to foreign investments, resulting in a relative infrastructural improvement, including health, education, and railroad.
However, the social cleavages between the natives and the settlers continued during the Americo-Liberians' rule. My forward story also discusses this condition further.
Richard Wright's 1940 novel, "Native Son", inspired writing my story. Wright was an African-American writer. Though his book was fictional, he wrote based on his experience in racist America. He used his talent to write about his people and their conditions. The thought that some Americans, both Whites and Blacks, would criticize him for writing about the poor treatment of Black Americans did not disturb him. Neither did possible adverse reactions by some bourgeois Blacks regarding his writing bother him. Nevertheless, in the end, "Native Son was the first book by an African-American writer to enjoy widespread success."
His second book, "Black Boy," an autobiography, details his life as a boy and an adult in America. It also tells the story of many Americans and became a best seller. Like Wright, in writing my story, any likely negative view of my book did not move me. I knew that some Liberians believed the settlers and the regime did very well for the natives, and there was no need to criticize the conditions. I also knew that some natives behaved like the settlers, and they would frown on my story. But unlike "Native Son", I do not see or intend my book to be a "widespread success". I want to tell my story, debunking the myths and hoping that the younger generation would know the true history of Liberia.
In my narrative, I try not to allow emotions and sympathy to override my sense of fairness and honesty. I felt excellent and liberated in that endeavor. By writing about my life, I could also be telling the story of those who had similar experiences but did not have the time to write.
Writing my story gave me an exciting pleasure, a reflection of the past. I hope you will enjoy reading the rest of the book.
EXCERPTS
CHAPTER TWO: MEETING WHITE PEOPLE
The memory of my life in Point Four in New Krutown as a child is still fresh. I saw and met White people in Point Four for the first time. As previously said, the Liberian government established Point Four to house American expatriates who came to Liberia to help develop the country under the Point Four Program in 1951. As a place, Point Four was an American community with modern houses on both sides of a paved road leading to Colonel West's residence near the Atlantic Ocean beach. It had palm and coconut trees like Palm Springs, Florida, USA. An open space served as a small playground, where the Whites gathered mainly on Sundays to throw the American football. The playground was near our house. We did not understand the game and would laugh watching the men falling on each other when one grabbed the ball and tried to run.
"Why are those White people fighting for, jumping, and falling down on each other for the ball"? We would ask and continue. "They are not kicking the ball but are throwing it," we puzzled. "That's silly," we said while watching them play. When one player ran the ball to the other goal pole, we heard one crowd jumping, clapping, and happily cheering. We could not understand why they were cheering.
"Why are they jumping up and cheering for"? We would ask.
One team had scored a touchdown so the scoring team was happy. The field would have over 100 spectators some days, including embassy or Foreign Service workers from central Monrovia.
At first, I was not allowed to go to the white community. There were White boys of my age in the community. I wanted to play with them, for they had toys. But I was afraid.
"Those White people do not like Black people," others told us, so we did not go around the Whites.
But Cousin Tanneh Jarh, Aunty Ama's grandson, and Cousin Weah Dukos, Pastor Samuel Doe's son, visited the White folks. Jarh, Weah Dukos, and the pastor lived in the house. The cousins acted as big brothers, and I always looked up to them. Tanneh Jarh's mother was Aunty Ama's first daughter, who lived in Sierra Leone.
Traditionally, in the Kru culture, men are named after their mothers, and the females after their fathers. Tanneh is the name given to the first girl in my mother's family. Tanneh Jarh represents Jarh, the son of Tanneh.
Whenever Jarh visited his White friends, I begged and cried to go with him, but he would refuse. "They do not want children there," he would say. The White folks tried to teach Jarh how to play American football. We laughed at him when he fell to the ground with the ball, just like his friends.
"Look at Jarh wrestling with those White folks. He just making a fool of himself", we would say, laughing.
Some afternoon, the White kids played with the ball, throwing it. Sometimes they brought out their toys playing with them. I would look and watch them play.
One day, the ball fell in my yard. They ran to get it but were afraid to enter. They stopped and just looked. I picked up the ball and handed it to them with a smile. But they did not smile back. They just said "thanks" and walked away.
"They are not friendly," I said to myself, affirming Jarh's view that the White people do not like Black kids in their midst. I did not like the rejection. Whenever I saw the boys driving with their parents, I would jump in the bush. I tried to avoid them and avoid my clothes getting dirty from the pothole water flashed by the car.
Surprisingly, the two boys, with another boy holding a ball, came to my yard. "Would you like to play"? They asked me. I did not answer; I gave them the 'wait sign,' putting my hand up, and ran to the house to ask Aunty Ama for permission.
Yes, you can go to play with them," she replied.
I happily ran back to the boys feeling good. My first thought was that we were to play with the toys. But they had in mind to play the ball. They threw it to me; it fell to the ground without trying to catch it. I guessed they were trying to make fun of me. "Catch it," they told me. But they wanted me to catch it.
The boys then tried to teach me to grab and throw it. I just couldn't. I did not have the strength or the skill. After many times of teaching, I could catch and throw. I was enjoying the play.
One day Jarh saw me playing with the boys. He couldn't believe seeing me there.
"Manpay," he called me, the name my mother's family called me in Kru. Manpay is a Bassa name, and I did not know what it meant and why my parents gave me the name.
"What are you doing here"? He asked.
"They invited me," I replied without giving further information or paying him attention but continued playing.
He saw the boys cheering me when I made a catch. He was mad inside and was in disbelief. I could feel it, and I did not care.
During my friendship with the boys, I observed that their parents' attitude toward Jarh was indifferent to his feelings toward the Whites. He acted as an Uncle Tom to them, thinking that the Whites were better than him and pleased them too much. He was always doing things for them, fixing the cars, etc. He was acting like a plantation Negro, to put it that way. I kept in mind his refusal to take me alone when he visited the Whites and insisted that they did not like Black children around them. So when he tried to make me look bad by informing the family that I forced myself on the boys, I wasted no time, as I felt that it was time that I spoke up. And without fear in front of the family, I boldly said: "Jarh, you like Whites people but they do not like you. You go around them without self-pride".
The family appeared to agree as if they had observed his behavior. They laughed but were surprised that I could talk like that. He was embarrassed. My action, as demonstrated, put me in a bad book with Jarh. He no longer saw me as his kid brother that he had to protect outside. A big brother, whom we called 'Byebee,' was necessary for our tradition. The byebee protects, guards, and fights for you publically. I was now on my own.
My friendship with the boys made me meet Susan, the only White girl I remembered in the community. Susan was a pretty girl but a 'tomboy,' who played with boys and acted like one. She was a free spirit who saw no racial boundary between Black and White. I guessed as children we did not see the profound racial difference. She was friendly. Susan visited my house frequently. She was the only one of the White kids who visited. I had a cat, which she also liked. I gave her the cat to keep, but her parents did not want it in their home. So I kept the cat, which I named Blue. She would run after Blue all over the house. Blue was my first pet as a kid.
"Kitty kitty, Blue, Blue," she would call the cat as she ran after it in the house. I shared my food with Susan. We ate with our hands. With her friendly and down-to-earth behavior, family members in the house could not believe that a White person could behave like that. They named her 'Juah.' They jokingly said she was my girlfriend. The White boys were not friendly and respectful to her. Though she played with us, they took advantage of her. They would take her to the bush, one after the other, and abuse and have sex with her. They made me be their watchman and security guard to alert them if someone was coming. I disliked that; I was uncomfortable with their act and deed. When they finished with her, they would laugh.
On this particular Christmas day, when many White people in the community had gotten together merry-making, the boys took her to the bush and did their usual act. A man was coming, so I rushed to the bush to inform them.
"Someone is coming," I warned.
The boys ran, but Susan was on the ground crying. I tried to help her, but the man was approaching so I ran. Susan followed. Within a minute her father, standing on the porch, saw us coming out from the bush. He concluded that I had sex with her. The news spread around the gathering, as the father reportedly cried openly regarding the matter.
The parents summoned Jarh, who was at the gathering, to their house to vex their anger. Accordingly, Jarh apologized repeatedly to them for my alleged crime. Yes, his relationship with the White people was in jeopardy. Walking near our home at about 5:30 P.M., I sensed deeper trouble awaited me. I heard my people talking about me. Surprisingly, a family member grabbed me from behind and hurried me to the house, holding my wrist.
"Here is he," she told the family. Aunty
Ama took a rotten seemingly set aside and started beating me.
"The devil has gotten into you. Are you trying to kill this family? Is it why you were brought into this world? Small boy like you engaging in sexual act, you violated the white girl. Don't you know that the father would have killed you and harmed this family for your devilish and foolish behavior"? She said and kept beating me.
"Aunty, I did not do it, I did not do it," I repeatedly said, crying.
"Are you saying that the White man lied? Are you saying that"? She asked. "He saw you," she continued.
"I did not do it," I repeated.
Aunty pointed out that the father is about the same age as my father and that the father was far older than I, implying that fathers or grownups do not lie. I could not argue, and neither did I know to the contrary. And even if I knew, it was not a time to discuss. I was begging for mercy and wishing she would believe me despite available evidence pointing to my guilty though innocent.
"I did not do it, Aunty," I said again, but the beating continued.
Jarh spoke meanwhile, adding fuel to the situation.
"In America, for what he did, Black people can get killed. Sometimes, White people hang or lynch Black people for that. He is lucky that we are in Africa, and White people would be afraid to do that. He is lucky, and we should thank God", Jarh informed.
Jarh had seized the opportunity to get back at me, telling the family about America, about racism, about Black-White relations in America as if he had lived in the US before. I forcibly listened to and heard his talk with dismay. I tried to get loose from aunty's grab of my wrist, going in a circle as I turned from the whipping. She was a strong woman, so my effort was fruitless. She kept a hold on me and was in control.
She finally stopped; she was exalted.
"This is for now; I will continue tomorrow." She ended.
They put me to sleep in a corner room usually used for storage. They brought me out the next morning for additional punishment. Aunty 'peppered' me, forcefully putting hot pepper water into my nose and in my anal, my eyes, and my penis. She wasted the balance water on me. I cried. I cried more as she left me standing in the hot sun, causing more skin burn. I cried for the harsh punishment and the fact that I was innocent of the crime they accused of. I could not prove my innocence. I was mad, vexed! I was mad at the White boys who did the act and got away. I despised their cowardliness and failure to come forth and tell the truth. I was mad at Susan's father for judging me wrongly; I hated his racial prejudice. I was angry at Jarh for not trusting me, not asking my side of the story, jumping to conclusions, and inflaming the situation.
Looking back, I did not tell aunty and the family what really happened and that the White boys were the ones who violated Susan. But doing that would have brought the boys into the picture, and they would have denied it. It would have been my words against theirs; the parents would have taken exemption to the accusation to protect their image. They would have taken the matter to the authority. The Liberian government was weak and did not care much about native people, particularly the poor and powerless.
The government generally viewed the Kru people negatively for many reasons, some of which I discussed before. Also, with pressure from the boys' parents and the American Embassy, the government would have forced my family to move. I did not want that to happen. I kept my silence, and I paid dearly for it.
My family banned me from going near the White neighborhood. I did not even want to see them or go around their place. I hated them.
A few days after the incident, I saw Susan and her parents driving down the access road to town. I did not hide in the bush because it would mean I was guilty and afraid. I avoided eye contact with them, especially Susan. I was mad at her for not being there for me, not telling her parents the truth, for not being honest, and for forsaking our friendship. I felt disappointed. I hated White people. I hated their hypocrisy, prejudices, and notions that they are better, that they are always right, and that those who are non-White, who are Black, are guilty before the fact. I suffered; I endured painful punishment because of their racism.
After the experience, I kept quiet and did not trust people, including aunty. I resumed my daily chores of helping with the treatment of the patients, bringing the holy water, oil, and sitting stools for them. Some family members tried to cheer me up by saying praises to me. I did not care and not moved by their praises. I just did not want to be bothered. I kept to myself.
I later engaged in a behavior that was harmful to my health. I started eating dry clean sands. I would take the sands to the bush and eat them not because I was hungry but because I found it pleasing. I did that for a while until I could not have a bowel moment. The sands had clocked my anal. I was getting sick, and no other person knew what was wrong. My stomach was getting big; I could not eat regular food but was hungry.
Aunt Ama started to pump water into my anal through an instrument. Still, it could not penetrate because of the blockage. She then used her finger and felt the sands. She removed her finger and asked. "Manpayh, what did you do? You have sands in you".
I confessed what I did and felt ashamed and apologized. Aunty continued removing the sands. I started having regular bowel movements.
"Are you trying to kill yourself"? She asked.
"I am sorry aunty; I will not do that anymore”, I said.