If I Don’t Forget Thee, Oh Monrovia…

By Omari Jackson

Sam Lonestar grimaced at the mere thought of returning to Liberia. It had been many years, ten to be exact since he last landed on that land. And now with the situation there getting better by the day, which meant since there was no more shooting and killing of people, he could now decide to return home.

“What about the news of armed robbers,” the questioner, though not a doubting Thomas, was thinking like the average Joe.

There was no need to imagine that conditions had generally returned to normalcy and even that should indicate that the thousands of those who had held arms in the war, and now unable to find jobs that were never there in the first place, would now be reigning havoc on the populace.

“I wish I know what may happen.”
His answer did not go well with his friend. Daniel Tokpa was no pessimist but he wanted to make sure that retuning to the place of his birth did not have a condition, meaning where in the end he would regret for going back home.
“First of all,” Lonestar decided to make his argument clear, and with some convincing points. “I’m aware that returning home will have its own dangers.”

“What do you mean, Sam?” the other asked, showing interest.

“Just imagine someone in the area reports that you’ve just returned home.”
“And so…”

“And suppose,” Lonestar continued with a smile, “Your returning is misunderstood to mean you are from the US…”

“I can see where you are driving the argument, but…”
“Exactly that is what I mean,” Lonestar said, “Suppose in the deep of the night the armed robbers come to you…”

“I give then what I have,” Tokpa said, “And in this case I give them nothing.
“And in anger for having nothing,” Lonestar continued with the same level of interest since the argument began, as both men, rested under the Coconut Tree, near the center at the Buduburam Refugee Center, “Suppose the robbers decide to set an example on you?”

“Hmmm….” Tokpa’s voice rose above a whisper.
“Then you see what I am seeing?”

“I do indeed,” Tokpa could no longer hide his emotion. He allowed a brief moment, and wringing his hands, wondered what would be the end if he returned home to Liberia.

It was true; he and Lonestar had always hoped to be resettled elsewhere other than their home country of Liberia. However with the way things had gone for the last several months and the decision by the UNHCR and their host, being the Government of Ghana, there was a way to believe that to Liberia they would have to go, and dare whatever would come afterwards.

That might have been what was on his mind or the expectation of Sam Lonstar at this late date of his experience in Ghana’s Buduburam, where he had lived for more than ten years since the Liberian war began in 1990, and ended in 2007.

There was no argument in his mind that he would very much want to return home, but reports of armed robberies and especially against those who had recently returned to Liberia, was discouraging and he could not accept, no matter who was saying what.

“If I don’t forget thee,” Lonstar said, “Oh Monrovia.” He did not really make any effort at all when those words poured out of his mouth. He might have read it somewhere, and it was about the Jewish people, in their many years in exile, who had always said about Jerusalem.

Now with many years in exile which was not of his chosen, he found himself wishing, the like Jewish people, to return to land that had edged on his mind all those years.

“But if I don’t return,” Lonstar was asying, “Would that indicate that the slayers have won, which was what they wanted in the first place?”

“That’s true,” Tokpa said, “But can we afford to let them win again?”
“Never should that happen.”

“Then what is the message or decision right now?” Tokpa’s insistence was paying off, since he was making more sense and was as a result changing the perception of his friend.

“We’ll go back with all that we have achieved.” Sam Lonestar was even surprised at how severe his voice had become. He had overrun the fear of danger that he had envisioned hanging over him, and was now prepared to return home with everything he had.

And again thoughts of returning home brought memories, emotional memories into his mind. Just before he left Liberia, which in the heat of the war, a rocked, said to have been launched from the Executive Mansion had fallen on several zinc sharks in Logan Town, and two of his children, along with several others perished.

That was particularly something that he had found difficult to accept. He was always uncomfortable to imagine the experience of his children, and those others who lost their lives.

Maybe things had changed as it had been reported.

A new government was in place, and it was said that it was the first in the whole of Africa for a woman to rise to the highest office of a nation.

He was still in deep concentration when he heard someone pulling him from the back.

“Ey..that’s you?”
The voice was that of Janet Dollia who had been coming over to see him, or who had shown her interest in him, and he had also done the same.

“Tokpa told me you were here,” she said, a smile on her face.

‘Oh, yes,” was all he could say. Janet was among several Liberian women who could be said to have lost all they had in life. In truth, her parents died at the Lutheran Church massacre, where soldiers from the then renegade Armed Forces of Liberia assaulted at dusk, and mowed down nearly six hundred women, children and helpless men.

She had always told him that she was alone in the world, and had thrown her destiny to the world. She had become a helping hand, volunteering to help anyone she would have the ability and power to assist.

The last few years, she had studied social service support and was always seen providing assistance to the young ones in the camp.

Now twenty six she had expressed interest to bond with Sam Lonestar, and it was no strange she had come looking for him. Sam Lonestar had shown her with sympathetic ear, and had always sought her advice.

“Janet we’ll return,” Lonestar’s voice did not betray his determination to return.

The young woman’s face changed and her smile indicated that she was with him on this one.

“I know you’ll agree at last,” was what she said, since she had been urging him to return.

“If I don’t forget thee,” Lonestar was also saying, “Oh Monrovia I shall return.”

There was no argument that Sam Lonestar would be returning with a new perception of what was needed from him to rebuild a nation that had been deliberately destroyed by those who were supposed to sustain it. And he had an occasion to shed some tears for her. He was aware that whatever the situation was, he would be in a better condition to make his presence in Liberia, and work to contribute his share to its development.