Excerpts from the authors birth and his experience meeting white people for the first time.

CHAPTER TWO: MEETING WHITE PEOPLE

The memory of my life in Point Four in New Krutown as a child is still fresh. I saw and met White people in Point Four in Monrovia, Liberia, for the first time. As previously stated, the Liberian government established Point Four in 1951 to house American expatriates who came to Liberia to assist in the country's development under the Point Four Program. As a place, Point Four was an American community with modern houses on both sides of a paved road that led to Colonel West's residence, located near the sea. The residence area is now called PoPo Beach. Point Four had palm and coconut trees, similar to those found in Palm Springs, Florida, USA. An open space served as a small playground, where the Whites gathered mainly on Sundays to throw the American football. The playground was near our house. We did not understand the game and would laugh, watching the men falling on each other when one grabbed the ball and tried to run.

"Why are those White people fighting for, jumping, and falling down on each other for the ball"? We would ask in Kru and continue. "They are not kicking the ball but are throwing it," we puzzled. "That's silly," we said while watching them play. When one player ran the ball to the other goalpost, we heard the crowd jump, clap, and cheer happily. We could not understand why they were cheering.

"Why are they jumping up and cheering for"? We would ask.

One team had scored a touchdown, so the scoring team was happy. The field would have over 100 spectators some days, including embassy or Foreign Service workers from central Monrovia.

At first, I was not allowed to go to the white community. There were White boys of my age in the community. I wanted to play with them, for they had toys. But I was afraid.

"Those White people do not like Black people," that was what people told us.

But Cousin Tanneh Jarh, Aunty Ama's grandson, and Cousin Weah Dukos, Pastor Samuel Doe's son, visited the White folks. Jarh, Weah Dukos, and the pastor lived in the house. The cousins acted as my big brothers, and I always looked up to them. Tanneh Jarh's mother was Aunty Ama's first daughter, who lived in Sierra Leone. Her name was Tanneh. She also gave birth to Jarh's older sister, Elizabeth, who was named Ploh in Kru.

Traditionally, in the Kru culture, men are named after their mothers, while females are named after their fathers. Tanneh is the name given to the first girl in my mother's family. Tanneh Jarh represents Jarh, the son of Tanneh.

Whenever Jarh visited his White friends, I begged and cried to go with him, but he would refuse.

"They do not want children there," he would say. The White folks tried to teach Jarh how to play American football. We laughed at him when he fell to the ground with the ball, just like his friends.

"Look at Jarh wrestling with those White folks. He just making a fool of himself", we would say, laughing.

Some afternoon, the White kids played with the ball, throwing it. Sometimes, they would bring out their toys and play with them. I would look and watch them play.

One day, the ball fell in my yard. They ran to get it but were afraid to enter. They stopped and just looked. I picked up the ball and handed it to them with a smile. But they did not smile back. They just said "thanks" and walked away.

"They are not friendly," I said to myself, affirming Jarh's view that the White people do not like Black kids in their midst. I did not like the rejection. Whenever I saw the boys driving with their parents, I would jump in the bush. I tried to avoid my clothes getting dirty from the water splashed by the car.

Surprisingly, the two boys, with another boy holding a ball, came to my yard.

"Would you like to play"? They asked me.

I did not answer; I gave them the 'wait sign' by putting my hand up and ran to the house to ask Aunty Ama for permission.

"Yes, you can go to play with them," she replied.

I happily ran back to the boys, feeling good. My first thought was that we were to play with the toys. But they had in mind to play the ball. They threw it at me; it fell to the ground without trying to catch it. I guessed they were trying to make fun of me.

"Catch it," they told me.

But I did not know how. The boys then tried to teach me to grab and throw it. I just couldn't. I did not have the strength or the skill. After many times of teaching, I could catch and throw. I was enjoying the play.

One day, Jarh saw me playing with the boys. He couldn't believe seeing me there.

"Manpay," he called me, the name my mother's family called me in Kru. Manpay is a Bassa name, and I did not know what it meant or why my parents chose it for me.

"What are you doing here"? He asked.

"They invited me," I replied, without giving further information or paying him any attention, but I continued playing.

He saw the boys cheering me when I made a catch. He was mad inside and was in disbelief. I could feel it, and I did not care.

During my friendship with the boys, I observed that their parents' attitude toward Jarh was indifferent to his feelings toward the Whites. He acted as an Uncle Tom to them, thinking that the Whites were better than him and pleased them too much. He was always doing things for them, helping fix the cars, etc. He was acting like a plantation Negro, to put it that way. I kept in mind his refusal to take me alone when he visited the Whites and insisted that they did not like Black children around them. So when he tried to make me look bad by informing the family that I forced myself on the boys, I wasted no time, as I felt that it was time that I spoke up. And without fear in front of the family, I boldly said:

"Jarh, you like Whites people but they do not like you. You go around them without self-pride".

The family appeared to agree, as if they had observed his behavior. They laughed but were surprised that I could talk like that. He was embarrassed. My action, as demonstrated, put me in a bad book with Jarh. He no longer saw me as his little brother whom he had to protect. A big brother, whom we called 'Byebee,' was necessary in our tradition. The byebee protects, guards, and fights for you publically. I was now on my own.

My friendship with the boys made me meet Susan, the only White girl I remembered in the community. Susan was a pretty girl but a 'tomboy' who played with boys and acted like one. She was a free spirit who saw no racial boundary between blacks and whites. As children, we did not see the profound racial differences. She was friendly. Susan visited my house frequently. She was the only white kid who visited.

I had a cat, which she also liked. I gave her the cat to keep, but her parents did not want it in their home. So I kept the cat, which I named Blue. She would run after Blue all over the house. Blue was my first pet as a child.

"Kitty kitty, Blue, Blue," she would call the cat as she ran after it in the house.

I shared my food with Susan. We ate with our hands. With her friendly and down-to-earth behavior, family members in the house could not believe that a White person could behave like that. They named her 'Juah.' They jokingly said she was my girlfriend.

The White boys were not friendly and respectful to her. Though she played with us, they took advantage of her. They would take her to the bush, one after the other, and abuse and have sex with her. They made me their watchman and security guard to alert them if someone was coming. I disliked that; I was uncomfortable with their act and deed. When they finished with her, they would laugh.

On this particular Christmas day, when many White people in the community had gotten together for merry-making, the boys took her to the bush and did their usual act. A man was coming, so I rushed to the bush to inform them.

"Someone is coming," I warned.

The boys ran, but Susan was on the ground crying. I tried to help her, but the man was approaching so I ran. Susan followed while continually crying. Within a minute, her father, standing on the porch, saw us coming out from the bush. He concluded that I had sex with her. The news spread around the gathering, as the father reportedly cried openly regarding the matter.

The parents summoned Jarh, who was at the gathering, to their house to vex their anger. Accordingly, Jarh apologized repeatedly to them for my alleged crime. Yes, his relationship with the White people was in jeopardy. Walking near our home at about 5:30 P.M., I sensed deeper trouble awaited me. I heard my people talking about me. Surprisingly, a family member grabbed me from behind and hurried me to the house, holding my wrist.

"Here is he," she told the family.

Aunty Ama took a rotten seemingly set aside and started beating me.

"The devil has gotten into you. Are you trying to kill this family? Is it why you were brought into this world? Small boy like you engaging in sexual act, you violated the white girl. Don't you know that the father would have killed you and harmed this family for your devilish and foolish behavior"? She said and kept beating me.

"Aunty, I did not do it, I did not do it," I continually said, crying.

"Are you saying that the White man lied? Are you saying that"? She asked.

"He saw you," she continued.

"I did not do it," I repeated.

Aunty pointed out that the father was about the same age as my father and that the father was far older than I, implying that fathers or grownups do not lie. I could not argue, and neither did I know to the contrary. And even if I knew, it was not a time to discuss. I was begging for mercy and wishing she would believe me despite available evidence pointing to my guilt, though innocent.

"I did not do it, Aunty," I said again, but the beating persisted.

Jarh was speaking in the background, adding fuel to the situation.

"In America, for what he did, Black people can get killed. Sometimes, White people hang or lynch Black people for that. He is lucky that we are in Africa, and White people would be afraid to do that. He is lucky, and we should thank God", Jarh informed.

Jarh had seized the opportunity to get back at me, telling the family about America, about racism, about Black-White relations in America as if he had lived in the US before. I listened to his talk with dismay. I tried to get loose from Aunty's grab of my wrist, going in a circle as I turned from the whipping. She was a strong woman, so my efforts were fruitless. She kept a hold on me and was in control.

She finally stopped; she was exalted.

"This is for now; I will continue tomorrow." She ended.

They put me to sleep in a corner room usually used for storage. They brought me out the next morning for additional punishment. Aunty 'peppered' me, forcefully putting hot pepper water into my nose and in my anal, my eyes, and my penis. She wasted the balance of water on me. I cried. I cried more as she left me standing in the hot sun, causing more skin burns. I cried for the harsh punishment and the fact that I was innocent of the crime they accused me of. I could not prove my innocence. I was mad, vexed! I was angry at the White boys who did the act and got away. I despised their cowardliness and failure to come forth and tell the truth. I was mad at Susan's father for judging me wrongly; I hated his racial prejudice. I was angry at Jarh for not trusting me, not asking my side of the story, jumping to conclusions, and inflaming the situation.

Looking back, I did not tell Aunty and the family what really happened and that the White boys were the ones who violated Susan. But doing that would have brought the boys into the picture, and they would have denied it. It would have been my words against theirs; the parents would have taken exemption to the accusation to protect their image. They would have taken the matter to the authorities. The Liberian government was weak and did not care much about native people, particularly the poor and powerless.

The government generally viewed the Kru people negatively for several reasons, some of which I have discussed previously. Also, with pressure from the boys' parents and the American Embassy, the government would have forced my family to move. I did not want that to happen. I kept my silence, and I paid dearly for it.

My family banned me from going near the White neighborhood. I didn't even want to see them or go near their place. I hated them.

A few days after the incident, I saw Susan and her parents driving down the access road to town. I did not hide in the bush because it would mean I was guilty and afraid. I looked straight at Susan. Our eyes met. She turned her head down. When she lifted it up, she saw me still looking at her. She put it down again as the car drove on.

I wanted her to feel guilty, and I was sure she did for not being there for me. I was mad at her for not telling her parents the truth, for not being honest, and for forsaking our friendship. I felt disappointed. I hated White people. I hated their hypocrisy, prejudices, and notions that they are better, that they are always right, and that those who are non-White, who are Black, are guilty before the fact. I suffered; I endured painful punishment because of their racism. My encounter with Susan on the road was the last time I saw her. I did not want to see her anymore.