Blog Reading Instructions

Me part, I like reading. And I enjoy writing too. I now fix my fine-fine blog but the material too long. Each chapter of the J.d. Kato story that 2-3 pages and that’s just too long. Even though it's written on a narrow column for easy computer screen reading and it get nice-nice pictures of me on the top and on the side, it's still too long.

To break it up and make it more interesting; (and that new word I now learn — versatile) I coming add shorter articles, notes, jokes, cartoons and so-so nonsense between the story chapters. For those ONLY interested in the story: you can follow the story in chronological order from the bottom up. The way to do that is as follows:

If you go to the first posted story, "Before You Judge Me," you can continue by clicking "Newer Post" at the end of each chapter. Skip everything except the titles that begin with the word — "Before…" For example: (1) Before You Judge Me, (2) Before Akon Come, (3) Before I Meet Tubman, and so forth.

I'm also thinking of adding some small suggested music on here. But most importantly, I think I am coming to add some non-suggested music here too! Because Liberian music can make me too vexed!!!

LIBERIAN PEOPLE ARE SO TALENTED!!! And we are so intelligent! We are so sweet!!! And our women can shake their tumbas like nobody else in this world. But we don't like to work together, we hardly compliment each other, and I don't understand why so many of us waste our talent on so-so shi*! Then when we finally get around to producing something half decent, we leave it just like that. Half decent! I checked utube to see what kind of good Liberian music I can add, I sit down for over one hour just shaking my head. WTF!!

I will lie if I say I didn't enjoy it. But it's not professionally presentable. Okay. So Sundaygar Dearboy has some good material out there. Friday the Cellcom Man is his same hilarious self. There are all the good gospels, particularly in our native dialects. Even quite a few new things I was not aware of. BUT one good Fatu Gayflor clip I couldn't find!! And where is all the other good ol' stuff?

Yeah. I'm pissed off. But my main beef is with these new Liberian-American artists… The R&B wannabes… Please. Yaw got the talent.. but yaw can do better.. Just keep working at it. Many of yaw still chir-ren. Yaw get time. So take yaw time and please, please, produce something good before rushing to upload it. On second thought, just upload it. It gives me something to complain about.

If you upload something terrible. Something stink. Something absolutely rotten! You risk having it exposed. This is my first friendly warning. If you find yourself on my blog, you either did something good, or you quite possible didn't.

It's not like we don't have good music. Or musical talent… AND GOD KNOWS WE KNOW HOW TO PARTY! The ability to party is something the Lord blessed us with in limitless quantities. Even at the worst of times, just pass on the streets of Monrovia with a loud radio and see what happens.

…and when it comes to style, with the possible exception of the Nigerians, nobody can even hold a candle to us. When we're out to zoot. ..and we decide to set for them; we leave even those aristocratic masters of fashion in our dust with their mouths gaping open. So what's up brothers and sisters?

Let's see more fantastic material out there.
--------------------


(Above) My Latest Favorite Bassa Gospel
It takes 3 minutes to warm up good :o)
Nyezwoooe yah ma

Before Akon Come Liberia

I still in prison waiting for trial, but let me think back some the important event what happen before I reach the place I at today. For instance 2006; the day I hear say Akon coming Liberia: come see me happy like hell running all up and down looking for another more job to buy ticket. But the thing that happen to me the time I was looking for job for Akon ticket business, eh yah! To find job in Liberia that small thing?

They say Liberian people lazy? That lie! This time Liberian people not lazy o! Soon morning people all on the road trying to catch car. Sometimes 5 o'clock self. To catch car in Monrovia today, that thing self that work. And if you bless you get car; that so-so traffic you coming sit down inside. Then everywhere you look, those pekin them selling. Those yamma yamma boys pack up to Red Light, to ELWA Junction, and all in town. To Broad Street o, Randell Street, Caray Street, Education, Waterside, Across the Bridge, Duala. You go interior self, just stop Ganta – so-so of them rushing to sell you any kind of thing. The thing that fall in their hand, that it they selling. Whole day they passing-passing. They not know which way to go to sell the thing what they carrying.

Market women the same thing. Pack up, pack up. And this time, people not for market. All those market places them that Nancy Doe built, they spoil in the war; the Old Ma rebuild it, but the people not want sit down there. Everybody want sell on the main road for customer business – but I not want talk that one today. Olden days, so-so Mandingo and Fula people selling. This time everybody want sell. You Loma o, you Mano, you Kpelle, you Kru self you selling. Congo people and all want sell, you must know. So I say, let me leave from behind this selling business. Let me look for correct job.

Thank God for Old Ma. At least this time, government job can pay you. No plenty waiting business. But the money can be too small. That time, 2006, one bag of butter rice that 28 dollar US in town, and the pusawar rice what the big-money people them can eat that 60 dollars US – but that one not for me. Then rentage. House money that small thing? Then on top of that they say the good Akon ticket that 100 dollar US. Then I want buy one good-good dokafleh to bluff. Then again, ever since, my ma in Nimba County say I must send her small something from in town. I put the money together I know government job can't make it. I thinking say let me look for one good NGO job.

I pass around, pass around, I see one fine NGO office to UN Drive. I say, let me go inside. I go inside – the place looking too clean. Just like in the American show. Soon I inside I see one black woman, but she talking clear Seree; I not know she from Zaire or what, so I go to her, I say I want job.

She say, "the posted job?"

I answer, "Any job." She looking at me.

She say, "Are you qualified?"

I say "yes."

She say, "How are you qualified?"

I say, "I looking for money."

She say, "No. I meant how many years of education have you had?"

I say, "12."

She say, "Oh! Do you have a high school diploma?"

I say, "No. That six years I spend in first grade, before that, I spend three years in A B C class the time I was in the interior, because they not get no good teacher. So everybody just learning A B C, A B C whole day. Then I now come in town now I getting small money, I able to dash the teacher, I get two double promotion! I finish to the sixth grade.

She looking at me some kind of way, so I thinking let me talk something quick yah. It looking like she too serious over the high school diploma business.

I say, "it leave small I almost finish high school with diploma, only thing I not woman, I man.

She say, "what do you mean?"

I say, "I smart. I know plenty book. I able plenty work. But you know how things are in Liberia. The condition not correct. I was coming be woman, I now finish high school long time self with diploma."

She say, "are you referring to what I think you are referring?"

I say, "I must explain the thing to you? You not see so-so of the woman them in college and university? Not to say all, but plenty of them, how they get there so?"

She say, "I'm thinking outside the box here. Maybe you are the right person for the job – to get through to the people. You understand the mind concept. God knows we need something. I'll have to discuss it with human resources, but first you have to fill out a job application and come for an interview."

I say, "what the job?" and she answer, "the job is as an instructor teaching safety awareness and sex education to indigenous people."

I hold my face straight, I not want laugh. I thinking say the job already for me, but these people real stupid for true. Thank God for that! The thing what every African person know and can do it, that it they want I must teach. How they think we manage to be plenty so? Yeah! Teaching job that good thing. Plenty chopping inside.

So she show me the way, I go look for human resource office. I passing looking, the place looking complete correct. Yeah, the people office fine o. I find the place. I go there I see one white woman. I tell her say, "I come for my job."

She say, "what job?"

I say, "the sex education job – I the instructor. The other black woman that can talk seree sent me, she say the job for me. I must just fill out application and come to interview, but what time I must come collect my money, she not talk that one."

The way this other woman looking at me I know she not want give me the job. She coming block me.

Her face looking too serious she say, "that you shall receive the position is not a foregone conclusion. There is a vetting process and many qualified persons have applied. In fact, we especially recommend qualified persons of the female gender to apply and several have already. However, if you feel that you are qualified, you're welcome to apply as well."

Here I was thinking say the job already for me I know this other woman coming block me. So I say to myself, let me beg her.

I coming talk to her, I say, "you woman I hold foot, I need this job bad way for Akon ticket business. And my ma self, she not get enough food. I not send her mattress. Long time I not send her soap money. She way to Nimba County. Small thing self I not send it. She vex with me like hell. This job that the correct job for me. And I know sex good-good. Ask plenty women in town and all in the bush. Small-small girl them, big-big woman o, all I now pass there."

The woman tie her face and dress back, so I grab her foot to beg her. The woman yell, "Leave my leg that's sexual harassment."

I say, "I just want beg you. That our African way."

The woman hollering, "Security!"

Myself get scare and run away. This time, rape business that not small thing in Monrovia. Soon the Old Ma hear that thing, it true o, it not true o – that the main thing can make her vex. I say let me move from these people before for job business they come put me in jail. Thank God self I not fill out job application, before the people come know what-place to come look for me they send policeman. Let me go find job different place.

How This Blog Began

After writing a short social-romantic story set in a Liberian village my fingers were still inching, so I decided to write another short piece inspired by a real life event that took place in Monrovia, and write it in the style of an amusing satirical resume I had once read on facebook. The short piece that I now considered a short story in its own right only took about an hour write, but the more I reread it, the more I found allegory and morals had seeped into it subconsciously. So I pasted it on my facebook notes and tagged a few family relatives and friends to find out what they thought. The results were quite astounding. A number of people I hadn't tagged commented immediately to my immense satisfaction, but some of the more interesting comments came later in my private inbox. Some people had found the story absolutely hilarious, but at least one person claimed to have been brought to real tears by some emotion it had triggered.

Personally, the short piece generated a complex combination of feelings in me; and I had left the ending of the story open intentionally, with no intention of continuing it. Again to my surprise a large majority of comments from the readers requested a definite ending. I had no clear idea of an ending at the time, and certainly no outline of how it should continue, but I figured what the hell — I'll just use the same character and use him to explore different national events from his perspective and write one story at a time till I had enough to combine in an anthology.

By the time I completed the second story I knew I didn't want to revisit some of the more haunted events of Liberian history, but I did want to explore some of the less savory idiosyncrasies of Liberian culture, and some of the positive ones as well. Contrary to my usually solitary nature, I also knew that I now craved response. Response I was no longer getting on facebook. The reason for this? Your guess is as good as mine, but I have a feeling the reasons are at least threefold: (1) I have never cultivated a broad readership, (2) a longer story would not be quite as interesting — most Liberians are not avid readers, and the colloquial language style made it difficult for non-Liberians — and who want to read a lot of small print of it in facebook? (3) Maybe I was being read but nobody wanted to respond publicly using their real name. Then again, maybe I was just plain annoying.

Whatever the case may be, I decided to continue writing the story as a public blog, and eventually edit and print some of the results in book form. A vague outline emerged in my mind, but I never wrote it down or fleshed it out on paper. Leaving open possibilities for the story to develop helped me to explore both the reality and the fictional material with fresh insight each time I sat down to write.

I decided to evolve the story into an interactive blog. Therefore your opinion counts! I am open to the idea of revising each new posted chapter according to public opinion. By voting on character decisions, you can determine in which direction the next story flows. I don't claim to be bound by democracy, but public pressure counts for something. Everybody is welcome to comment. My only request is to please try to be courteous — at least to one another. If I draw fire, I figure I deserve it, so please feel free to blast at me to your hearts content. None of the stereotypes I reflect are written in stone, and yes, even I make mistakes… sometimes.

The subject matter is not necessarily pleasant and the opinions and stereotypes I present are not necessarily my own; although I have to admit, some of the peculiarities of my thoughts do come out in the various characters voices, including that of Mr. J.d. Kato himself. I do exaggerate a lot. Unfortunately, concerning some issues, the reality on the ground is even more gruesome than the fiction. If you have been in Liberia anytime recently, or even in the past, you can probably often tell the difference. Although, it never fails to amaze me that many people, and surprisingly, even many Liberian people simply can't.

This is probably not a fault. I have had the benefit of studying psychology, sociology and anthropology and have been professionally trained to rapidly assess sub-cultural values for the purpose of analyzing and effecting population control in times of natural disasters and emergencies. Among other things, I am a population officer in what can questionably be considered a humanitarian relief organization. Don't ask.

I hope you enjoy reading my posts at least half as much as I enjoy writing them. It has helped me explore some of my own views. My hope and challenge is that it will help you explore some of your own as well.

Before You Judge Me

I hold your foot to read my statement. Before you judge me, y'all should understand that I didn't join the neighborhood patrol just to eat free rice, but I took the job very serious. The arm robbers in our area were acting too frisky on us, so we the young men of the neighborhood decided we needed to join together to protect our homes and family at all cost. None of us had gun. I not even get rubber or flashlight, so I borrow cutlass from my big sister and my uncle who live on the same road give me one bonanza phone to call police but I not get no money on my phone, so no way to call.

On the very same day the something happen, I see the UN police (that big-big red car) with one Liberian policeman inside, they call him Jackson. He say anything, I must call him; but time to call him now, he can't answer. And the fat white policeman who can sit whole week in the car, he not come too. I beep him, beep him. No answer. I send him, "please call me" message. Still he not want call me. But wait now. Let me start from the beginning.

That night 12 o'clock I wake up and go to Mrisses Peabody who can give us our tea, sugar and one cup of rice for the night. Then I go wake up my friend them for the patrol. Myself buy the condensed milk. Joe and Smith wake up straight, but Billy not wake up that day. He say he too tired, and he was acting too lazy so myself get tired and leave him. I was happy self because I was too hungry and the rice was not sufficient to fill all our guts. That's how we manage to be three of us.

Everything started alright. Those short-short men that can patrol on the other side of the road started ringing their bell easy kind of way so we know everything fine on that side. We decided to go check up the hill, the place where Victor them men at, but we not pass far we see some kind of man passing behind one house with something on his head just like he not want nobody to see him. So I blow my whistle and challenge him straight. You know these days that not heart-men time but people can catch you for kidneys so we brave on him.

The man started begging so I ask him, "whatin in your bag?" He not want answer so I was coming flog him good, but he get scared and drop the bag. Joe open the bag, then all of us see the man now steal somebody dog. I was damn vex! But what to do now, the dog already dead. So I slap him and tell him to go quick before I change my mind. The man run away straight. When we finish coming down the hill and sit down by the road to cook our food, one yellow taxi was running on the road bad kind of way so we say let's put up road block. Supposing that armed robbers. No way to stop the car.

We getting ready to cook our rice and dog now, we spy car light coming down the road so Smith get up to see who's that. Before he can stop the car, we see that's one Nigerian UN pick-up, and the way it was running, the thing run straight into the roadblock. All the block them buss! Come see the Nigerian soldiers jumping from the pick-up, so so of them with their AK-47. We just standing looking at them. But soon the chief officer spy us he start yelling, "They get machete! They get machete!"

I look at him for long time and suck my teeth before I answer him, "Move from here man. That thing you calling machete that my sister cutlass o."

He say, "that's a weapon of war."

I say, "whattin?"

He say, "do you know that they used that thing in Biafra? You're an armed robber."

I look at him for long time. I not want talk the thing what I thinking: they too stupid, that's the reason Charles Taylor's pekin them didn't play to kill them in the war. I was vex like hell now but what to does?

I tell him say, "the armed robbers, y'all can't arrest them, y'all self know that some of the police - they the armed robbers, then that the neighborhood patrol who protecting the people y'all want arrest?"

Then he ask me, "what is in the bag?"

I say, "that something we seize from one rogue."

One of the soldier open the bag to see inside. Soon he spy the dog he acting just like he get vex, then all of them started pointing their gun them to arrest us. They started talking their Yoruba-Ibo dialect to steal our dog. That how they bring us to jail. Don't mind those people now finish eating our dog, long time.

We come to jail now the people say the Old Ma vex. The people complain too much so she coming execute all the armed robbers they capture.

Eh my people! If that thing true, that for dog business y'all coming execute me?