A Personal Ordeal

Some food in Africa has to be fetched from trees, using all means necessary. When I was young I was led into an open brush where my male cousins confronted me with the idea that it was my turn to climb a palm tree and make available a bunch of palm nuts for the evening meal. My ordeal follows:

With a sharp spear attached to a stick and with a cutlass, boys and men climb the palm trees, using a very craftily made, locally manufactured rope or tree belt made from rattan. My older cousins constantly tried to force me to carry out this dangerous feat of climbing a tree palm nut tree. I always refused, for I felt it was dangerous and might get injured, even though I admire greatly what they were able to do with that rope made from rattan.

My cousins, who were older than I was, were very persistent. I too was adamant not to succumb to their wits and strange ideas. You see, I was born in Firestone and in Firestone, climbing tall palm trees was not what I and some of my friends did during our leisure time. We kids of Firestone found a lot of pleasure in making and playing ganga ball, a type of rubber ball made of latex from the rubber tree.

One afternoon I followed my cousins to fetch cassavas for the evening meal. After digging the cassavas, as always, my cousins decided to look around for palm nuts. They found a palm tree that had two bunches of red, matured palm nuts. They did not bring the climbing rope along, but nearby was a long, dried reed or bamboo stick about 15 to 20 feet long. The bamboo stick had alternate branches that had been cut short to be used for climbing. "Cooper, today is your day to cut those two palm nuts from the tree you see over there," my cousins demanded as they surrounded me. I had no idea that a plot against me had been hatched and was unfolding right before my eyes. Had anyone hinted me that such was the wicked thinking of the people I knew as blood relatives, I would have never ventured into the bush, far away from my friends. "I don't know how to use any stick to go up that tree to cut palm nuts," I replied. "Well, well, well." Someone jumped in. "Until you bring down those palm nuts, we will all remain here until the sun goes down." My monster cousins sounded more ominous than I imagined. Finally and reluctantly, I tremblingly climbed the palm tree, carrying with me one of the cutlasses we had used to dig the cassavas from the soil.

What if a snake was up there? I kept thinking to myself. I couldn't wait to reach home to report these rascals to my father. I mustered courage and finally climbed to where the two bunches of ripe palm nuts sat hidden among thorny palm branches. It was an awkward and terrible day for me.

I began to cut the branches from around one of the bunches of palm nuts. Getting one bunch cut was one thing; going around to reach the second bunch on the other side was a complete disaster for me. I look down from where I sat in the sky and saw my cousins all laughing at me, as if this was something I had volunteered to do.

Climbing palm trees was not my favorite past time and these cousins of mine, who lived with us at the time, had observed this weak side of me. So, they plotted to corner me one day and force me to do what they were proficient at. Looking down at them from the top of the tree, I despised them and hated what they were putting me through. Sitting on those palm branches, high in the sky and scared to death, I wonder why such a nightmare for me would have been initiated by people whom I thought were my true relatives and who, otherwise, would go out of their ways to protect me. I struggled with the irony but yet became creative as I tried to cut my first bunch of palm nuts.

To stabilize myself as I stood on the dried bamboo, I had to first trim the thorns off a few palm branches. Those were the ones I held on to as I tried to cut my way to my target.There were about four branches that I had to cut very close up so that the neck of the bunch of palm nuts was visible. The cutlass I took with me may have lost its sharpness, for my hand was getting bruised from the long time it took me to cut one branch. By this time, the thought of a snake welcoming me into its domain and the fact that I could slip and fall 20 to 25 feel below, had me sweating profusely.

As I laboriously tried to cut my way toward the target..the bunch of palm nuts..I realized that a few loosed nuts were beginning to drop to the ground below. I stopped. Effortlessly, I grabbed a few and began to bite into their succulent flesh. The impatience from my haters below was obviously becoming unbearable. Shouts of disapproval of my lack of speed in performing the task before me were so loud that birds that had come to witness my ordeal began to fly away. Finally, and for the first time in my life, the first bunch of palm nuts, fetched from a palm tree from my own efforts, fell to the ground below with a huge boom-a boom that I had never heard before.

The cheers from below were mixed. As the loosed, scattered nuts on the ground were being collected by one group, I saw the others picking up the bags of cassavas and the bunch of palm nuts, and began heading home. I was about to make my way to the second bunch of palm nuts when I noticed that there was more in store for me. I saw someone pulling away the bamboo that I had used to climb the palm tree, leaving me stranded with no other way of climbing down from the tree. With this new development it became obvious that my work had come to an abrupt end and the punishment meted to me by my own cousins for my lack of experience in the survival arena, was just beginning to manifest itself.

I began to wonder how in the world I would get myself down from the palm tree. My cousins had constantly complained that I always acted as if I was the "civilized" one in the family. I was in the habit of refusing to do what they demanded of me. I was more interested in going with my friends to make and play ganga balls (crude soccer ball made from rubber) while they went out hustling for food. This ordeal was punishment for what they thought was the gorilla-work-monkey-draw attitude that I had developed in the you-don't work, you-don't eat environment in which we lived.

Well, as I sat in that palm tree with no means of climbing down, I had to get creative. It's the human nature. I sat in the tree for a while with a lot going on through my mind. Jumping from such a height was not an option. I could not wait it out until someone decided to come and rescue me. If I had cornered a snake during my invasion of its domain, it was now clear in my mind that my imaginary victim had me cornered also. That thought played in my mind consistently and increased the awareness that I needed to find a way to get down, and to get down as quickly as possible.

With the cutlass I began to cut at the base of one of the palm branches. I made sure that the cut was not too deep to cause the branch to sever away. I then used my right foot to force-bend the branch toward the ground. The palm branch was not long enough to reach as close as I wished, but it did give me some leeway to try something. Making the ultimate move and holding the cutlass in one hand, I grabbed the palm branch and began slowly sliding down. From the end of the hanging branch to earth was about 10 feet.

At this point of my journey..considering where I was a moment earlier.. the choice was obvious: After taking a deep breath and closing my eyes with a silent prayer, I let go of the branch. Gravity was kind to me. I landed up right with a riveting jolt..a jolt that I continue to remember to this day.

I survived my ordeal with no broken body parts. I went home feeling deserted and lonely. In the end I was able to climb down and find my way home. I was not amused and I did not tell my father what I had gone through. As we all know, abuses are rarely reported in our culture. One is left to helplessly live to tell the story in a future life.

I never climbed a palm tree again. My cousins and I continue to laugh about what happened that day. My laughter, as you can imagine, continues to be sheepish and with clenched teeth.

Signs Of The Time

Harry Greaves has been a serious thorn in the flesh of Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, the president who promised in her inaugural address, to fight corruption with tooth and nail. I just heard that the thorn has been retrieved from the flesh not of the president, but from the flesh of the suffering people of Liberia. Harry has been fired! A day before the news of the demise of the Harry Greaves' mystique, I sent the letter below to FrontPageAfrica. Am I a reader of palms or what? Can I tell what the future will bring?

My mouth is full, as we say in Liberia . To hear that Mr Harry Greaves of all people was able to tape record a colleague who was trying to extort $300,000 during a deal making, is indeed an amazing feat for a man who has been dubbed the mother of deal making and poor accountability. For this one, I want to say, Harry, you are the man!

I mentioned many months ago that Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf needed to equip her corruption-fighting crew (mini monsters) with camera phones and easily-hidden gadgets to listen in and report corrupt deals going on in her government. For there is no way you can accuse a crook without visual evidence, especially in Liberia. And as we all know, it takes a crook to turn in a crook.

The challenge right now, if corruption is enemy numero uno, is who is going to turn in Harry Greaves for past and present acts unbecoming a managing director? Who is going to turn in the guy who forged the president’s signature in one of those “by directive of the president” memos? Who in Liberia will be brave enough to turn in any of the many recycled ministers who, one time or the other, misappropriated funds in their care or extorted money from others but could not be prosecuted because of a lack of proof; or, because there was no voice-recorded evidence?

The weakest link in the Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf government is the inability of the government to fight corruption with all the ammunitions in its arsenal. Stories of inner-circle personnel misleading the president, is another headache. If she can minimize these road blocks and keep fighting for the common folks, the Liberian people will give her another chance –even with the shadow of the TRC recommendations hanging over her every move.

What makes corruption or stealing painful is how it takes away the basic necessities of life from the majority of the people of Liberia . For example, furniture for the entire EJS Public School in Zuawein, Margibi County cost $4000, according to news report. For instructional materials, $1400 was spent. Just imagine how much could be done for the children of Liberia if government was able to recover the many $300,000 or more that are constantly being snatched away from government coffer by those who, a few years ago, were ready to take up arms against corrupt practices by people in power.

Just imagine how much can be done with the many stolen $300,000 or more to replace the many monkey bridges that most of the folks in the interior parts of the country have to cross in order to take their sick love ones to clinics miles and miles away.

I heard this story the other day and felt good that there are some good men in the present government who mean well for the country and its people. And if we had 10 good men like John Morlue, the Auditor General,Liberia will surely climb the ladder of progress at the twinkle of the eye. Here is what I heard:

The usual thing in Liberia is that during major holidays like Christmas, offices of ministers and other big shots are swarmed with business people carrying largess and other types of best wishes. This particular minister came to his office one morning and saw that his space had been over run with boxes and boxes of gifts from business people.

The story continues that when the minister saw that he could not get to his desk because of the many boxes, he frustratingly called his secretary for explanation. After being told that the boxes were from business people who had come to bring his “Christmas,” the minister got extremely angry and asked the secretary to send the boxes back to wherever they came from.

I was elated when I heard this story, for this is the type of corruption that has discredited our leaders and kept the country down since 1847. Any Liberian who can show a tiny sign of integrity should be praised. Such a small gesture means a lot to those of us whose families continue to struggle to make ends meet while a few others continue to enrich themselves.

And finally, I just read that a new Capital City Bill by the House of Representatives is about to be forwarded to the Senate for concurrence. I wonder when the construction of the new Capital City will begin. I wonder what the new name will be. If I had to choose between road construction and the construction of a new Capital City, I would do the roads first. For you see, I will feel terrible if it takes me seven hours to drive from Toe Town in Grand Gedeh County to the new Capital City. I would feel miserable if while traveling from Zorzor in Lofa County , I had to get out my car, walk over a makeshift bridge, and watch villagers push my car through a knee-deep, muddy swamp to the other side.

Oh, before I forget, most of our people would love to call the new Capital City , Dukor.