SOURCE: THEODORE HODGE
I have been called upon this afternoon to give a literary perspective on
Nvasekie Konneh’s book, “The Land of My Father’s Birth: A Memoir of the
Liberian Civil War.”
I will like to stress an important distinction here for our discussion.
It is my understanding that in the case of a work of fiction, a
literary perspective encompasses delving into such technical matters as
mode of narration, plot development, character development, general
style, etc. We are, therefore, not required here to give an analysis of
the techniques of fiction writing.
This book (under discussion) is a memoir and thereby falls under the
genre of non-fiction. In that regard, the perspective that forms the
crux of the book is strictly the domain of the author’s. Upon reading
the work, a critic, or any reader for that matter, can express an
opinion as to whether he likes or dislikes the work. I am on record of
stating that I like the work and highly commend the author for his great
effort of telling his personal story which has wider dimensions for our
society.
The perspective herein expressed is straight-forward and unique; it
belongs to the author. The author writes from a first-person perspective
and tells a personal story. He uses a clear style to deliver his
message. He goes from the specific to the general by first telling us
the story of his grandfather’s migration to Nimba County and his
subsequent relationship with the local tribes. He marries outside his
own tribe and thereby blends the mixture from which later springs the
author’s father and subsequently the author himself. Later on, the
Liberian civil war brings to focus some ugly realities stemming from
differences engendered by religion, culture, ethnicity and even
politics. By the time the story ends, the reader comes to the
realization that the author craftily tells a story of very broad
dimensions worthy of further study and discussion.
What I want to do here now is to give a cultural and sociological
background that formed the author’s upbringing and helped to shape his
perspective. I want to argue that this background gives credence to his
viewpoint. I want to also argue that in this regard, although he tells a
personal story, the story has far-reaching dimensions for the broader
society; it tells the story of a people and a culture.
The theme I shall speak on this afternoon is “The Danger of a Single
Story”. I give full credit to the young, brilliant and incorrigible
Nigerian writer Chimamandi Ngozi Adiche. She writes, “Show people as one
thing only over and over again and that is what they become.”
She tells a story about herself. According to her, when she began to
read, there were no characters in the books and stories that looked like
her. All the characters were blue-eyed, blond haired children who ate
apples, drank ginger beer and played in snow. At a very early age she
had a desire to write and so she began to write short stories. She
created characters like the ones she had read about; that’s all she
knew… she thought these were the only kind of people about whom
stories and books were written. Imagine that!
She said she considers herself fortunate to have discovered the African
writers, the legendary Chinua Achibe and Camara Laye at an early age.
They introduced her to a new frontier. Through reading them, she began
to realize that there is no single story for a people. We all have
various complex and multi-faceted stories — it all depends on who
tells your story and from what point of view. Yes, the author’s
perspective matters, as the African fable about the Lion and Hunter
tells us: The story of the hunt is always told to us from the hunter’s
perspective, not the lion’s. Maybe one day lions will learn to read and
write their own stories, but until then, we have to live with the
hunter’s tale.
Adiche emphatically warns us and illustrates the danger of reducing
other people and cultures to a single story rather than recognizing that
we have overlapping, multiple stories… stories that may be quite
contrary to the popularly accepted views expressed by others about us.
She says further: “When we reject the single story, we realize that
there is never a single story about any place or people, we regain a
kind of paradise.”
Let’s examine the case of Liberia for a brief moment. How did we come
to have a single story? Was it by accident or design? I am prepared to
argue that it was by deliberate design.
Our so-called founding fathers set out to carve a national story at the
exclusion of various segments of the Liberian nation. The document
referred to as the Liberian Declaration of Independence is tantamount to
“A Recipe for Disaster.” I shall examine it briefly by highlighting
two brief quotations from the document. It says: “…While announcing to
the nations of the world the new position which the people of this
Republic have felt themselves called upon to assume, courtesy to their
opinion seems to demand a brief accompanying statement of the causes
which induced them, first to expatriate themselves from the land of
their nativity and to form settlements on this barbarous coast, and now
to organize their government by the assumption of a sovereign and
independent character…”
The word “Nativity” strikes me as strange in this usage. Since these
settlers were forcibly taken from their homeland, Africa, and taken to
America where they were held as slaves, shouldn’t America be referred to
as a land of bondage, instead of the land of nativity? Since the black
man originated from the African continent, why was this group of
settlers referring to America in such a manner? I think the consequences
are indeed psychological and crippling.
One practical example comes to mind: The Jews were displaced from their
homeland and scattered all over the world. They were once held in
bondage in Egypt in biblical times. Many Jews were born in Egypt, Syria
and other Arab countries. Do Jews dare refer to these foreign countries
of their birth as the land of their “nativity”? No. Many Jews, in modern
times were born in Europe. Let’s take Germany for an example. Do Jews
refer to Germany as the land of their “nativity”?
A second key point is the reference to the description of the African
coast as “barbarous”. What makes this the barbarous coast? Was the
barbarity not perpetuated against the peaceful inhabitants by so-called
enlightened and civilized people of the West? It should be clear who the
barbarians were in this case. To refer to the victims as barbarians is
false, misleading and unconscionable. But that is what happens when the
story of a people is told by others, instead of by the people
themselves. The so-called civilized people of America created our story
and sold it to the settlers and the settlers were happy to run with it.
They created a single story, a story that depicts the indigenous African
as warlike and barbaric, making America the dispenser of enlightenment
and the settlers as its messengers… the story of the nation becomes
the story of the settlers; that is an example of the danger of the
single story.
Let’s examine a second quotation as it appears in the same document:
“We, the people of the Republic of Liberia, were originally inhabitants
of the United States of North America.” Again, one has to wonder about
the usage of the word “originally”. Weren’t these people originally
taken from Africa? If so, when does America become their original home?
And here it does not take too much effort to come to the realization
that the authors of this historic document only set out to tell the
story of a small segment of the Liberian nation. Were all the people of
Liberia “originally” from America? No. The attempt at deception and
domination is quite obvious to the casual observer.
Revisionist accounts of history tell us that the tribes occupying the
land mass that became known as Liberia were always at war. Perhaps the
case is made that is was through Divine Intervention that the slave
trade began… that the slave trade was a kind of salvation because the
natives were always at war killing each other before these slaves were
taken to America. So perhaps, slavery saved their lives? Hogwash, I’d
say.
Let us examine empirical evidence to debunk this myth. Since the return
of the settlers (former slaves) back to Liberia leading to the
“founding” of the nation, there have been no major wars between and
among the major indigenous tribes. The only uprisings in the country
were directed against the government, in self defense. For example,
there were the Kru Wars and the Grebo Wars. But the Krus never fought
the Greboes, neither did the Krus fight the Bassas or the Kpelles
against the Lormas. The Krahns never fought the Gios or the Manos. No
tribe ever fought the Mandingoes nor did they fight against any other
tribe? How does one explain this discrepancy? Again, if these tribes
were so warlike and barbaric, why did they suddenly stop fighting each
other? One must conclude that the theory is fabricated for the benefit
of those telling our story.
I once again emphasize why this book is an important read. We are used
to telling Liberia’s history from the narrow perspective of a very small
segment of the population. We believed that the country belonged to the
settlers at the exclusion of the indigenes, hence the myth of the
“founding” theory. We are told over and over again. “Liberia was founded
by former black American slaves.” In all fairness, that is partly true;
but only partly so, the rest of the story is much more complicated and
complex.
Let’s examine the issue of who is a bona fide Liberian and who is not.
Liberians of various persuasions are quick to tell you that Mandingoes
are not genuine Liberians. When pressed to argue the case, they are
quick to point out that the Mandingoes are originally from Kankan,
Beyla, N’Zerekore, Masedu (all in the Republic of Guinea) or even from
Mali, Senegal, Mauritania or Sudan — anywhere but Liberia.
Press the case further and question why Mandingoes born on Liberian
soil for generations should not be considered Liberians despite the fact
that their ancestry hails from further afar? The answer is generally
puzzling. It goes like this: “Because they have no known ancestral
villages in Liberia.” They will continue, “I can show you Grebo towns,
Kru towns, Gio and Mano towns, Kpelle and Lorma towns —- can you show
me any Mandingo towns?”
At this point I know they have lost the argument. The constitution of
Liberia does not stipulate or require any ownership of ancestral lands
as a precondition for citizenship. The argument for ancestral land
ownership by the group is bogus. And here is why. We have people in
Liberia referred to as “Americo-Liberians” and in some cases as
“Congaus”. Do these people have any genuine ancestral villages in
Liberia? The answer is no. Does that disqualify them from been called
Liberians? No. So why is the standard different for the two groups?
Furthermore, here is a group of people that boldly tells us that their
ancestry lies somewhere in America, perhaps North Carolina, South
Carolina, Georgia, Maryland, Pennsylvania or Maryland. If we accept them
as genuine Liberians, why should we deny people who come from
neighboring African countries such as Guinea, Sierra Leone and the Ivory
Coast? Once the logic is fully examined, the case becomes duly clear
and convincing.
And that is why I want to thank the author again for insisting boldly
and demonstrating clearly that Liberia does not have a single story. If
the Liberian nation can adopt strangers from as far away as North
America, it should not take too much of a stretch of imagination to
accept other Africans, especially our very close neighbors and
relatives. We must not be brainwashed into thinking or accepting the
fallacy of a single story — we must beware the danger of the single
story.
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