BEYOND INSANITY

Self Examination

Chapter 11

THE GOOD SAMARITAN was also a soldier for the government,and as he walked away from the dungeon where the young boy was kept for nearly a week, he was filled with revulsion and anger. He felt the strain in his muscles and somehow became agitated. Why? He had done what he felt was a good deed, releasing the young boy who had been brought and thrown into the dungeon for the last six days. It was not strange in this day and age that a young boy would be abducted and thrown into a prison, waiting to be killed.

Sam Dolleh had known all along that other soldiers were rounding up civilians, and were bringing them to the secret hold-out at the Mansion and killing them in the dark of night. How many young men and women of Gio and Mano ethnicity had been brought here that he had watched in his hideout, as they were flogged, raped and eventually killed? He had counted twenty, and oh no, thirty, and the number was counting. The young man he had released was the seventh he had been able to set free.

But why was he doing it?

“That’s my nature,” he admitted to himself. “When Gosoe was killed for speaking against the abuse of the young Gio boy, I knew that my role in this thing was set.”

Sam Dolleh was a father, with five children and at the age of forty five, not only had he participated in the campaign of death in Nimba County, he had watched many people killed. Though he was also aware of the penalty for working against the authority of the president, he felt an element of shame and at the same time responsible towards those innocents who were being wasted every night. He did not think it was helping the war, to pay young men and women for the military’s losses in the bush against the rebels. “We are in hell, already,” he admitted, “our butts are being kicked, just listen to the BBC.” But in truth that the rebels were kicking the butt of the soldiers did not suggest that he should join forces or work in concert against the expectation of the national army. It was apparent that his change in action was due to an experience he had witnessed during one of their campaigns in Nimba County.

The idea of what happened in that campaign always brought a sense of shame to him. It was few months after the rebels announced that they were taking on the national army. He was among nearly fifty soldiers who had been sent to Ganta, one of the major towns in the county, and to their surprise, they found the town almost deserted. Now, with the Gio or Mano man’s natural desire for music, the soldiers decided to set a trap to get all the able bodied Gios and Manos to come out from their hideouts. With the soldiers was a tape recorder that had been seized from some fleeing civilians in Monrovia. It was not apparent that the soldiers meant to carry the tape recorder to Ganta, but since they were taking things from civilians, they were fortunate to have the machine along.

As the tape recorder was activated, and one of the popular Gio songs blared out aloud from the instrument, it did not take that long when the pleadings in the song affected the heart of the Gios and Manos. And unsuspectingly, they emerged from their hideouts into the hands of the soldiers, and the trap worked to perfection.

Sam Dolleh, as he walked away to his quarters at the Mansion, still felt the pleas and cries of men and women his group arrested, and accused of supporting the rebels. Their murders, which did not spare their children, had been a blot on his conscience, ever since.

Of course, he was, and he could not convince himself that the losses by the army from all strategic positions around the country, was a valued reason to declare war on all young men and women from Nimba County.

He remembered, many years ago, when he attended the Zwedru Multilateral High School. The school had a population of more than six hundred and students came from all over Liberia. There were Gios, Manos, Mandingos, Krus, Bassas, Lormas, and many others from any of the remaining sixteen ethnic groups.

And nostalgically, he remembered that they had all attended classes together. In fact the school’s soccer team composed of all Liberians who were able to play the game. There had not been any problem then.

Then, why should it be now?

He knew it was the end of the period of time. Was the end time now catching up with Liberians? The whole Liberia was suffering. But again, after all, he was a Krahn, and so what? This was a war for power, and not a war to preserve the Liberian nation. He was a soldier, who believed nonetheless in the sanctity of human life. He was not making any accusations against any one, but it seemed that the meaning of life had been diminished and all Liberians were suffering and crying.

He could agree that what was happening would become the basis for more horrible things to come that the government could not, and would not be able to contain them, even if it wanted to. The news from the hinterland was not encouraging. From day in and day out, the BBC, the only radio station still providing news about the war, had been broadcasting the rebel leader, Charles Taylor’s triumphant declarations of what, where and how his men were making their way to Monrovia.

As a Krahn, he knew when push came to shove, he might not live. But what did he care? The tears and blood being wasted for personal intrigue were not doing anyone any good, let alone the president of the republic.

The rebels’ successes, if the BBC should be believed, had inserted fear in the men and women in arms. And what had they gotten in Monrovia? Arresting young men and women was not the right course of action. He was horrified when, just last week, he discovered the heads of five men and four women on the beach, just next to the Mansion.

He had been called to supervise the burial of “some” rebels and what he saw made him think twice on the current war. It was then that he made a vow to himself: never again would he allow those bloodthirsty soldiers to hide in the comfort of the Executive Mansion, and capture young boys and girls and kill them for sport.

If the soldiers wanted the enemy, well, they could go on to Kakata, and even Gbarnga to test their killing skills there. Killing boys and girls under cover of darkness and at a hideout at the Mansion, to his mind, was a war against the people.

Sam Dolleh, the soldier and protector of people, and a lover of mankind, decided right then that the war with the rebels was already lost. And again he knew also that he must watch his back.