BEYOND INSANITY

The Good Samaritan
Chapter 10

IT HAD BEEN seven days now since the young Gio boy was forcibly brought into this dungeon by soldiers looking for rebels. And it had been seven days now since James Zonn heard about food. He was in danger of dying, becoming weak by the day. Sometimes he wondered how he had been able to endure such a bitter experience, and sometimes he had felt that he would survive the ordeal.

He could not convince himself why he would be lucky to survive, and neither could he find the mouth to explain why he would die, and his body thrown into the Atlantic Ocean. For the young man, all meant the same. It had come to the hard part of life. Before he was brought here, there were shootings by the soldiers, and killings of people and their bodies lying down from street corner to street corner.

He had awoken this early morning, to a strange sound. Somebody was knocking at the door where he was being concealed, and glaring at the door, he could not make any mistake of a shadow of what seemed to be a man standing there, beckoning him to come closer.

With his heart panting, remembering what the big soldier had said to him, he made great effort to be sure the day for his home going, as promised by the soldier, had not finally come. Immediately, beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead, and the room that he could not see at such an hour, was becoming visible.

Then he saw what the cause was. The man, demanding him to come, had a lantern, and though his attire was that of a soldier, it was apparent that he was there for a different reason. If he was one of those who had promised to come get him, he reasoned, he would not have any reason to stand afar, and ask him with caution to come near. After all, if he were one of the soldiers, he would have known that he was tied to the board to the floor, and he was not free to just move about the room.

It was apparent that the other had seen the boy’s dilemma, and began to do something. James Zonn watched in amazement, as the man, with the help of the light from the lantern, engaged the door, and in a second, it swung open.

“Shsssssssss…” Zonn saw the man’s finger on his lips. Zonn watched as the man moved his tall height through the door, and saw that he had a dark brown shirt. Closer now, the man’s black eyes and a wiry hair increased the boy’s anxiety. But at the same time, the boy had a sense of goodness, since the man was doing whatever he had to do with care. Still without saying a word, he pulled a cutter from his trousers pocket, and cut the rope, that held the boy to the board. Right then, a flicker of a smile swept across the man’s face, and grabbing Zonn by the hand, he said for the first time, since he entered the room, “God has sent me to redeem you, my son. Today, I am helping you out of this place.”

Zonn was about to say something, when the man, looking directly in his face, said, “There is not much time. Those who are determined to kill you have been sent on a mission, and before they return, you must be gone.”

Zonn nodded, as if he understood what was said. The man helped him out of the dungeon, and for the first time, fresh air shot through his body. He felt dizzy, the result of the seven days that he had been kept without food. When Zonn straightened up in an attempt to gain his foothold, for he almost fell to the ground when the Good Samaritan released his hold on him, he saw a bowl, that he correctly thought contained cooked rice, wrapped up, and wedged beside the door.

And he still wanted to ask a question, when the man said, “There are places you can pass to leave from this Mansion underground. Take this food and after you have secured yourself a good hideout, you can eat it.” The man was still talking when Zonn dissolved in tears, as he heard the man say, “I am a Krahn, and I am a Liberian. Let God be with you.”

By now they had walked away from the dungeon and had come through what seemed like an artificial tunnel, which opened directly facing the Atlantic Ocean.

“Walk by the side of the sea,” the man instructed him, pointing his hand to the right. “You will come to a three-way interception, turn to the one on your right, and go about twenty minutes, the road will branch to the left to Buzzi Quarters, and from there you will be out of danger.”

Zonn, who was few minutes ago walking with difficulty, felt his spirit reviving, and some measure of confidence overpowering him. The idea of having been freed had changed his mood, and now not only freedom he had regained, the Good Samaritan, who, before he could turn around to thank him, had disappeared, had provided him some food for the journey away from hell.

So as he walked away in a hurry, he was filled with thanksgiving, and appreciation for God’s saving grace. He never had the chance to learn anything about the man, just that he was a Krahn and a fellow Liberian. Even in these difficult times, there were still true Liberians, he mused. What was more, any attempt he had made to know him had met a stiff resistance. The man wanted freedom for him, and to top it all, he had brought him some food. “God,” the boy asked, “what manner of father are you?” Zonn’s tears were uncontrollable.

Meanwhile, the Atlantic Ocean, as he turned around to watch what appeared to be the deep blue see, rumbled on and on, in an apparent praise to the wonders of the creator. The majesty of God’s creation, the appearance of the Good Samaritan, reinforced Zonn’s belief in the goodness of God through man. How then, he asked himself, were some people so wicked and unfriendly? The faces of his captors, what they said to him, threatening him if they were to return, and their failed attempts to choke him to death, all convinced him that despite the goodness in man, we can choose what we want to do to others, so long as it serves ours interest.

Though he was a free man, where would he go? There were still soldiers in the streets. From where he was running away to, the sounds of weapons, contesting for attention cried out in protest. But, it was too soon to dismiss the grace he had been showered. He thanked God, and blessed himself.

“Father,” he said, his voice choked, “the rest of the journey is yours.”

It was then that he heard footsteps behind him.