Alhaj Ansumanah Azziz

The Love of Liberty Brought Him Here: Recounting Jazz Legend Hugh Masekela’s Exile in Liberia

I was first introduced to Hugh in the late 60s via his groundbreaking album “Grazing in the Grass.” I was with a bunch of buddies at LAMCO in Nimba County, partying at my cousin Fritz’s house (yes, the famous painter Fritz Massaquoi), and he put on this amazing album and we were all astonished and realized instantly we were hearing African Jazz for the very first time (Liberian man used to know his music, oh). Because I am a musician and amateur historian, I gulped down every note, read every footnote and immersed myself in South Africa, the history, the struggle against apartheid, Miriam Makeba, Steve Biko, Soweto, Winnie Mandela, you name it. Nelson Mandela had to be free!

Fast forward to 1977.

When I returned home to Liberia for my grandmother’s funeral, I ended up in Eddie Dunn’s nightclub, Hibiscus, on Crown Hill. Guess who I saw through the smoke and haze? Hugh Masekela and cousin Fritz standing at the bar! I introduced myself to Hugh, told him how great I thought he was and let him know I had great material for him. The man talked to little ol’ me the entire night. I found out he lived at Mensah’s house on the beach close to my house, and since he was buying we “caught our head” good, and then left at about 4:00 AM.

He picked up a cassette of my music on his way home; I thought he was doing it to appease me, so I said not a word. At around 7:00 AM the next morning, my mother woke me up, informing me that a “Hugh-somebody” was in the living room to see me. I was both shocked and elated.

Hugh told us that he wanted to record my songs right away before going on tour with Herb Albert, head of A & M Records in the USA. That’s when I got scared.

Fast forward to 1978-79.

Hugh Masekela and I were “running buddies.” We recorded my music at Senator Brand Rum Studios opposite the Ministry of Public Works (“Give It Up” was subsequently released as the A Side of a Maxi Single in the early 80s).

Hugh’s “crowda boys” were my “crowda boys.” I hung out and rehearsed at his house, my second home. His girlfriend, a medical student on a Liberian government scholarship at JFK, gave birth to his daughter at JFK. Because of my association with Hugh, I met and socialized with the likes of Miriam Makeba (a very good cook, by the way) who was also living in Liberia in exile along with Kwame Toure (Stokely Carmichael, head of SNCC, the American civil rights group the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee). We had some deep conversations and shot pool together in Hibiscus.

Talking at length to ANC (African National Congress) freedom fighters living in Monrovia was surreal, but so common in Liberia those days. Our country served as a haven for many weary artists and activists from across continental Africa. I was even the opening act for the “Godfather of Soul” James Brown, who the Liberian Government flew in on the Presidential jet “Speedy” to perform at the Antoinette Tubman Stadium to raise money for the ANC. I got a chance to meet leaders of the Soweto uprisings who were shielded in Liberia from the backlash of the anti-apartheid rioting that took place in the South African townships.

Liberia was much more than lively parties. It was the beacon of light for those involved in the African liberation struggles that wracked the continent in the mid-to-late 20th century. There was a community of South Africans living in exile in Liberia in those days, many of whom were on Liberian Government scholarships at the JFK Medical School  . . . yes, our JFK. Liberia hosted Nigerian refugees in the 60s during the Biafra war. We Liberians helped Nigerians settle disputes long before ECOMOG landed on our shores in 1990.

Let’s reclaim Liberia’s historical prominence by remembering what we stood for, and why folks like Hugh Masekela chose our country as a refuge. This guy trumpeted South Africa’s plight to the world. He was a guest of Liberia. Maybe we should show the class we were once proud of and contact Hugh and all the other South Africans we helped along the way. Maybe, just maybe, they will become our other ambassadors.

This essay first appeared in the April/May/June 2008 Issue of the Liberia Travel and Life Magazine.