‘Community Welfare Centre’ of Tabu became the hub of all sorts of activities done, not only for the Liberian refugees in transit areas of Tabu, but also for the host communities who at first looked at us out of suspicion.
Every Sunday morning, there was a service for Christians followed by an open discussion about the problems that the people faced in refugees camps. Later on, we invited the humanitarian organisations and local authorities, police and security personals to participate in post service community discussions. We formed committees representing refugees as well as host villagers in managing the external support. Soro, irrespective of his age, worked day and night shoulder to shoulder with the young people who had already gathered around the movement and me. Welfare centre was used by all the groups irrespective of their religion, creed, and nature of work. At the end of the third month, we managed to renovate the building with the financial support of a non-governmental organisation and the labour support from the villagers and the refugees. By the end of the first year, we were able to start alternative livelihood training for the men and women in the refugee population, and we used resource persons from the host communities and paid them which ensured that our initiatives also benefited those host communities. In less than three months, after the first team was trained in sewing and embroidery, a few trainees expressed their willingness to work as tailors for the refugees as well as the host communities. Before the first batch was graduated, we had already got three sewing machines and a small glass wall-robe and later the tailor shop was fully functional in the community welfare centre. By the end of the fourth year, a fully functional preschool, community hall where the Community-Jury was held, welfare society for the Liberian refugees in Tabu transit camp, mobile clinic, vocational training centre and the church for all denominations were functional in the community welfare centre. With the extent of work we performed in the centre, the time I had dedicated to religious activities significantly went down and rather than visiting Tabu every day; I decided to stay in the community welfare centre with Soro. Without my knowledge, a half-decade had passed but the time I spent in Tabu made me realise that to make a difference in human life we ought to accept the difference between us. Whatever our belief system, traditions, and languages could be, we all are human beings. All throughout my journey from Kissi village, across Loma village and Kpelle village, from Liberia to Ivory Coast via Guinea: with the black man and the white man, every change I had gone through taught me that no difference could be greater than the commonness of being human. But human beings found it difficult to forget those little differences and accept the humanity which would always be common to human beings.
By May 2004, people started moving back to Liberia and our existence in Tabu became rapidly trivial. A couple of pastors who worked with us had already left. Only Soro and I were left alone in Tabu. With the departure of most of the refugees, the daily activities that Soro used to do abruptly stopped, and his old age had already created a noticeable barrier between his young mind and old body. He was like an old broken chariot with young horses. He did not want to accept the age and his drastically deteriorating physical condition.
It was nine in the evening on 23 July 2004; a pouring rain was beating the earth without stopping. Nothing except the unyielding rain could be heard. I was reflecting on how the time had taken me on a journey without a touch of a woman for decades. Had I not chosen to be a churchman, I would have lived somewhere as a refugee or could have been dead by now having got caught in crossfires. Today my life is spared, and I had been lucky enough to see any side of human life, read some books and associate different people and learn many things in life that an ordinary Kissi man would never do in the bush. All the same, behind everything which I saw as successes and achievements, I had fading sorrows and growing pains.
‘Kumba, Where are you?’ I let my voice come out as the rain prevented my voice from being heard by Soro.
‘Kumba…. Can you hear me?’
‘Are you alive?’ I allowed my feelings to be translated into words and to mix with the noisy rain.
‘Kumba,’
‘Kumba where are you?’ I called her name looking through the small window and watching how the rain fell on the ground and continued to pour along the grassland which reminded me of how tears ran down my cheeks at times when I cried.
A thunder broke out spreading its blue light all over the place adding a mysteriousness to the pouring waters. Another thunder broke out louder and brighter than the previous one lighting up the whole area which revealed a strange scene on the grass. The white cloth which had not been a new thing for me hinted me that it was Soro. Before the thought came to my mind that it should be Soro, the sight made me stand up aghast.
‘Soro,’ I yelled seeking a response, but I did not hear his usual reply. When I went to the hall, the door had been left open. I ran outside calling his name louder, expecting him to say something.
I touched his hand and forehead. He was colder than the pouring rain. His eyes were wide open as he was looking at me even though he had long gone because he was the only one who knew how deep my loneliness was.