Sengbe Boakai K. Khasu

Word from the Editor

“Small shame better than big shame.”

- Liberian Proverb

In Honor of one Reverend William Lewis

Yor! Yor!!!!!

Yoooooooooooooor!

Yor!!!!!  Yoooooooooooooooooor !

YOR!

Ah say mah peopo dis wohn heh dah in honun Ol’ Man William Lewis. Da in his nehn we speakin’ yeh . . . dah wohn na small sohntin’ . . .

When he died earlier this year, we had been trying to reach him, to sit at his knee and receive the wisdom he was eager to pass on.

He waited in that Philadelphia old folks’ home while we stumbled around searching to find him. To no avail.  You see, he had already ceased to exist in the Liberian imagination for almost forty years.

William Lewis, founder, William Lewis African Jungle and self-styled “First Minister of Culture” passed on to the ancestors before we could find him.

Gone!

Ancient, sacred masks from most Liberian ethnic groups.

Gone!

Vintage 16 millimeter footage of Sande and Poro - of new ‘women’ and ‘men’ as they returned to communities.

Gone!

Telexes from international stars of the day - jazzman Lionel Hampton and others . . . recordings of Liberian singing from the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s . . . and even pictures of the early heyday of Liberian Jungle and its many stars, including a young starlet named Gbessie Kiazolu, nearly 50 years removed from being . . . Liberia’s iconic muse.

A giant of Liberian culture and arts falls in a home for the elderly, far from home. And we do not cry.

He takes with him that which he knew needed to be passed on - nearly a century of Liberia’s cultural identity . . . umbilical cord blood; and we . . . feel nothing.

Or do we? And what exactly? Maybe a frontal lobotomy. Maybe a further loss of our collective hard-drive. Culture. Identity. National pride. Unity. Patriotism.

This is the question Ma Gbessie ponders in her conversation with Robtel Neajai Pailey. You must hear the power of her words. And feel the weight of her facial expressions and body language as she addresses everything from her own multi-cultural/ethnic-lingual identity to her new status as a ‘consultant’ of culture. And finally to, as she puts it, “the selling” of Kendeja.

Ma Gbessie’s unspoken thoughts are uttered directly by a woman of a world far removed from hers: Ute Klissenbauer, a German expat. Ute echoes Ma Gbessie in her own reflections on her experiences at Kendeja as a child and now as an adult, when she says to us that we take care that tourism does not turn out to exploit Liberia. And the words of Dr. Elwood Dunn, whose calm and impassioned speech to the Liberian Truth and Reconciliation Commission we are reprinting here, are so very important.

This issue continues Sea Breeze Journal’s affirmation that it is possible to be tech-savvy members of the technological 21st century and still be faithful to one’s heritage and self, to one’s Africanness. This has been a problem for so long in our people that we no longer acknowledge it as such.

The process of seeing this 5^th Anniversary Issue, which is dedicated to Liberian culture and Kendeja, come together has been nothing short of summu.

Our old people speaking to us in one united voice. People as far-flung from each other and as disparate as one could imagine, all carrying that sacred message: culture, identity, unity, must no longer be left unattended or in the hands of those who speak one way but whose actions exhibit the very cultural ‘alienation’ spoken to by Ma Gbessie, Dr. Dunn, Doeba Bropleh, Fasuekoi . . .

A young American doctoral candidate, Timothy Wlue Nevin, is doing what none of our Ph.D’s have done to date: preserve the memories of dances (”ballets”) on the verge of being lost (lamented by Ma Gbessie).

A film of a Kendeja performance shot 31 years ago by a visitor, Bernard Vandemeulebroecke, is kept safe to be returned, a precious gift of memory to be experienced by all, most especially, young Diaspora contributors like Charmie Snetter and Miatta Kawinzi who speak powerfully of a culture they only know through mother-wit.

Mr. James Emmanuel Roberts, currently an official at the Ministry of Education in Liberia, spent the last few months sharing his recollections of the short but memorable days some consider the apex of drama in Liberia when he, as Kona Khasu, was Director of the Cultural Center.  His subtle and nuanced argument for the relocation of Kendeja is a surprise for this particular editor.  And perhaps, others.

I am most encouraged by the wellspring of gifted, skilled, disciplined “LIB” writers who have shared their stories about our past and present and future with us. You will know their names soon enough. These unknown greats whose work reflect, and in some case surpass, the achievements of their literary elders.  As it should be.

The Liberian writer is alive and thriving. Unknown, certainly - be he the author of three critically acclaimed works in a challenging language not his own (Vamba Sherif), or she who has completed a masterpiece beyond the realm of our thinking (Stephanie Horton), and has not yet found an agent.  But that may be more a reflection of a society - and government - out of touch with its richest thinking.  Yes, indeed, a society rises and falls based on the potency of her singers, painters, dancers, writers.

So while others scream the gospel of economics and physical infrastructure, Sea Breeze Journal will shout the words of Ma Gbessie:  ”culture is . . . how you eat . . . how we speak to each other on the street. . . how we clean our house . . .”

We must not continue to put the chicken before the egg lest it cracks under the slightest of pressures.

It is in this vein I speak directly to our MICAT chief, Honorable Reverend Dr. Laurence Bropleh.

Sir, it is not enough to give our grand dame of arts and culture a title of “Consultant” and leave her in total squalor in the shadow of the five-star hotel being erected on the site of her home for the last 41 years.

You must stop being an eloquent pulpiteer of “Information” and “Tourism” and set about being Minister of CULTURE.

You must not let “book” stand in the way of your education.

Find Ma Gbessie quick-quick and go sit by her knee. There is much to learn from your “Consultant of Culture” in the rest of your stay as her boss.  And de ol ma na already say “I old but mah brain ain’ go yit” . . .

To Honorable James Emmanuel Roberts and other “sons” and “daughters” of Ma Gbessie, our cultural icon, I say, Yor mohn fini de ol ma lil kinjah her grandson started.  And immediately, poppay.  De ol peopo say “small shame betteh den big shame”. Ehneh so?

To those amongst us who say culture must wait until we have food, shelter, and electricity, we say: to only build structures for the purpose of attracting money is to exist.  To know oneself, deeply, is to live.

To the many great Liberian artists still carrying on the torch of culture and arts that we have not mentioned in this collection, we salute you. Tank you, plenty-plenty’OOO!

In honor of the spirit of William Lewis and African Jungle, I join the numerous contributors to this Kendeja issue in welcoming you to our ‘lil piece of Liberia in cyberspace. Yor welcome ‘OOO.  Join us as we celebrate our FIFTH YEAR ANNIVERSARY ISSUE!!!

With Love.

For Liberia,

Sengbe Boakai . . .