While our lives were being consumed by the time factor, even though the recovery of my nation and the country was in a constant struggle with no signs of life being back to normal, three more lives had been added to our lives: Princess, the first, was an adorable girl, just a carbon copy of Aminatta but with slender body like mine, George II, our first boy, carried some identifiable features of mine to the next generation and the last one was named after the Reverend Maurice in honour of all what he did for me. Unlike the city I left decades ago, Monrovia had become a place of impossibility where nothing could move. The prices of vegetables, dry rice, and meat had risen to the skies as farming had stopped altogether due to multiple displacements, and no one dared to go to the bush for hunting because of the rumours that there were still rebels in the bush. As a consequence, ‘The Pepper Coast’, once in the history of Africa, was importing pepper from Guinea and Ivory Coast. Liberty—official currency of Liberia had fallen into the trench of inflation. Every single necessary thing was nearly not affordable for the commoner. However, grace to Aminatta`s constant attempts and attitude of never giving up, we managed to keep a small amount aside every month after paying the rent to Lebanese landlord who used to stand before the door of our room on the 28 of every month, and he would not move until 20 United States dollars clean note was placed on his palm. Aminatta used to put some money aside every month, after buying all necessary groceries and food items, a couple of second-hand clothes and fuel for kerosene lamp that was excluded from our budget later on with the introduction of Chinese lamps.
In the mid dry season in 2013, we managed to buy a small piece of land near Kakata highway on the outskirts of Monrovia.
‘My man, I happy o,’ Aminatta danced the whole day in the land. She was overjoyed like never before. Just like a girl of ten she ran rounds and rounds in the land. The children were laughing at their mother, but I knew how she might have felt.
‘Aminatta…today we celebrate,’ I told her and went to the shop next door to buy a couple of beer as I knew when we started drinking, the neighbours would join us merely to have a drink than to wish us success. Certain things that were typical of African society could not be easily changed even though they had to change: such as the participation of neighbours in your little private celebrations converting it into a community feast and finally making you pay for all what they ate and drank.
With a couple of neighbours, their children and parents, we celebrated our first step of stability as a family.
‘I will build a palace here,’ Aminatta cried at the top of her voice making the crowd laugh because she sounded more drunk than sober. I was also dreaming of building our palace one day soon on this piece of earth. I wanted my children to grow up under a peaceful roof for their own even though my childhood was not blessed with luxuries. They were growing like little trees which would shelter the wounded earth of my county and purify the poisoned air for my nation to breathe. I did not want them to go through or at least witness what we had experienced in our lives. Neither conflicts nor Bush-curses I sought in the store of Liberian future.
‘Papa, this is our football ground,’ George II told me showing the empty land. I smiled. He had felt the sense of ownership and had his own dream. Even though Princess did not verbalise what she might have in her dreams and the smallest one was too young and he was enjoying the fresh air away from the city. As their father, I felt the weight of my responsibility with a growing ambition for a better tomorrow.
‘George, we will apply for a loan from LBDI?’ One the way home, Aminatta suggested me.
‘That is what I was thinking too,’ my reply made her smile.
Even before the Pepper bird`s symphonies started, I was up on the following day and arranged a file of all of my credentials and drafted a letter to Dr. Harris for getting his guarantee to apply for a mortgage loan.
I made my Atae in the morning while Aminatta was still sleeping, and went outside. The city had not still awakened. The dust that flew up in the air was still dormant. Unnerving klaxon of Yellow-machines and auto taxis were silent. A mild breeze that came across the Atlantic wrapped around me when the maiden rays of the rising sun cut through the darkness that had been ruling the sky so far. It was picturesque and thought-provoking. I felt that the sunrise was like hopefulness, the darkness was about to surrender to the light of hope.
‘Thanks God!’
‘Thank you! for everything’ I did not feel that Aminatta had come and joined me.
‘Yes, It is Allah,’ she added.
Under one sky, looking at the hopeful rays of the sun, keeping our feet on the rough earth, we thanked for Allah and God. When unseen superpowers divided human beings, the universe remained dumb, deaf and mute sharing all what it had among us.
After a refreshing and hopeful morning with fresh thoughts, I got ready to go to work. Exactly at 07:45 a.m., the white colour Land-cruiser of Dr. Harris used to stop just in front of my house. It had been ritualistic since the time we moved to Sinkor.
‘Good morning George!’ Dr. Harris said while I was getting into the Jeep.
‘Good morning Sir! How the body Sir?’ I asked as he was very much used to the Liberian way of asking ‘how are you.’
‘Hm, not good news from Guinea,’ he replied with a serious tone.
‘What happened? Any problems in the mission?’ I could not imagine anything beyond the mission in Conakry.
‘Nothing wrong with the mission. It is more serious than …’ He swallowed what he was about to tell.
‘Sir. Are you all right?’ I could not but ask as I noticed that he was worried.
‘I am ok George,’ he said and kept silent for a while.
‘There is an Ebola outbreak in Guinea, looks like beyond control already. The mission called me last night.’
‘Ebola?’ What is that?
‘It’s a haemorrhagic fever like Lassa fever but more contagious than that,’ his explanation triggered my memories of childhood. I did not want to hear about that tragedy that eradicated several villages including mine usurping my loved ones from me, making me an orphan. I felt as if a thunder strike hit on my head.
‘No way,’ I said.
‘It is in Gueckedou, near Liberian border, a few kilometres away,’
‘Sir,’ I could not tell anything anymore. I felt as if the history was about to repeat.