WHEN THE MAN DIED

By Omari Jackson

It had been too long for no one to recognize the sacrifices of her husband. Yes, it had been too many years now. And nothing had happened. But today of all days, her feelings had returned to him and she could not think on anything else, except the finals days before he left the comfort of their home.

Though many years now, it seemed like yesterday, or today, or few hours ago.

"I'm on a mission," he told her, with a bitter smile. It was such a smile that always signified he was in agony and somewhere in his heart some demands were requesting to be made. "I may come back or not come back." And that was the part that upset her heart.

She had then walked towards him, embracing him.

"If the danger is too much," she suggested with a smile as painful as his. "Then why go in the first place?" As she ended her question, she could read the painful smile on his face. She was aware of what he had always said to her, "I'm a soldier first, and when it comes to any issue affecting Liberia, if I die, so be it." Now she remembered the period of April 12 1980, when at the time he was an unknown soldier, he and his friends, including Samuel Doe.

Remembering these feelings hurt her heart but she could not stop.

"You're not the only Liberian alive who is affected or disturbed by the events in Liberia today..." her voice had trailed off, her eyes looking deeper in his. "Some sacrifices are greater than you can make."

Deeply, the soldier allowed his breath to loosen up, and in an instant the woman thought she saw fire in his eyes. Her heartbeat increased and it reminded her of their days in Liberia, when Tom joined several of his friends to redeem the people.

She could remember those days like yesterday.

It was like a film's reel, running in slow motion before her eyes. The soldiers had succeeded in crushing the century-old True Whig Party, and what was more, the nearly thirteen government officials had been strapped on poles on the beach. She could remember the plea of the international community, requesting that the men should not be harmed.

The situation was challenging and frantic then.

Backed by the politicians, who had coined the slogan, "our eyes are open the struggle continues", there was no time to consider the pleas from the families of the thirteen government officials. And she could still imagine the pain that had seared through the hearts of the wives and children of those destroyed during the frenzy of what was said to be a new dawn in Liberia.

But that was before her agony. For, on behalf of that woman, yes the proverbial iron lady, the three men who had visited Tom, were like vultures before a carcass. They would not leave him alone, and they came, day after day.

"I'm leaving for a call by my people," Tom was able to say at last, his resistance broken, "the duty of a soldier is to defend and protect."

"But when things go wrong," the woman tried to talk him out of it, "would they be there for you, for your family and for your children?" She could not imagine what was going through his mind but a soldier he was, he had reminded her of that.

And of course she was aware of it. She did not need him to remind her of that. And he should have known that a soldier with a family deserved to remain with the family so that the family he was growing would grow to know him.

And to enjoy him.

"I will survive," he assured her, "I will call for you and the children as soon as things are ok." She knew of Tom's resolve and with that statement of assurance, Tom could not be persuaded to back off the request of several of Liberian politicians who had made their lives more hell than she could imagine.

So my husband was so important to our country? But just supposed the unexpected happened, would the family be as important to Liberia as the husband was now? She could not answer the question.

But when a woman marries a soldier, what is she supposed to do? The idea of the soldier being killed during the operation never crossed her mind. Otherwise, she would have insisted that those who were coming to their house to request that Tom travel to Liberia to remove the government of his friend, would have been pressurized to make some concessions. It would have been on the line of: just incase "something" happened to Tom, who would be the breadwinner for the family? She would have demanded that some money be placed in a bank in the US, just as surety or insurance for the family.

But in the end, the unexpected happened.

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So when the call came that Tom did not make it and that his wallet had been recovered with her child's photo in it, she agreed silently that Tom, her husband, was not coming back.

Yes, it was then that she agreed, despite her inner refusal that it was the day the man died.

Now, those who encouraged Tom to kill himself have ascended to power in Liberia. And the painful thing she is dealing with now is their failure to recognize Tom's contribution to the new order. Her tears had not stopped crying for Tom, and presently fighting for the utmost sacrifice he made under the sponsorship of the proverbial iron lady. She has reluctantly accepted the truth of his death.

Though she has been making appeals and expressing her disgust on the apparent lack of appreciation for her husband's sacrifice, Tarlor has finally come to accept the truth that no one should die for a nation that will not die for you.

Truly, she has also accepted the reality to fight her cause till someone in authority recognizes the day the man died.

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Author's Note: Dedicated to the memory of Brig. Gen. Thomas G. Qwiwonkpa in the appeal for the Liberian government to recognize his loss to his family.