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by Dr. C. Wesley Armstrong ŠApril 2000 Christmas Eve, 1989: When many of my fellow Liberians and friends were in preparation for Christmas, a festive mood abounding, rumors began to percolate throughout Monrovia, the capital, and elsewhere in the outlying country that an invasion by dissident leader Charles Taylor to overthrow the government of the now late President Samuel K. Doe was underway. Nobody really paid any attention to the rumors. In our household, we had a joyous and happy holiday and went about our daily activities as usual.
January 4, 1990: To my dismay, living rumor became living reality. On this day President Doe acknowledge the invasion and during a press conference, officially announced that Liberia was under attack by rebel forces that were in the process of destroying two towns and killing a number of Liberian citizens.
March-April, 1990: During these months the US government advised all American nationals to leave the country before what was now being labeled as the 'Liberian Civil War' intensified. Ruth, my wife, being American and truly concerned for our safety, twice booked passage for our departure. However, I, being very patriotic, on each occasion encouraged her to allow us to remain in Liberia, saying: "Nothing serious is going to happen." Ruth obeyed and eventually agreed with me and we ended up staying in our home until conditions got worse. Yet, at this particular junction, no one really believed that the uprising would turn out to be a living nightmare.
May-August, 1990: Most Liberians continued on with their daily routines. The markets continued to function; Ruth and I continued to report to work at the University of Liberia. In May we picked up and cashed our last salary checks. In this incidence, however, it was necessary for the University payroll to be disbursed at the Medical College campus as ominous and foreboding letters from the rebels were then disrupting activities on the Monrovia campus. Thereafter, stores and commercial centers, as well as all institutions of learning and church activities, gradually grounded to a halt. The wheels of commerce in Liberia ceased. The late Al Porte wrote, in describing the prevalent mood: "Monrovia stood still."
On May morning several rebels came knocking at our back door. As soon as we opened the portal the rebels entered, one of whom pointed a gun in my face and stated: "We shall not kill you, but we are here to protect you. We are very hungry and we want something to eat, or some money." Needless to say, I was frightened. I gave them some money. After they departed, I discovered that I had handed over $95.00 and observed them dividing the money amongst themselves as they left our yard.
The War continued to intensify. There was shooting around the nearby town of Paynesville at local strategic communication and military targets such as the ELBC-ELTV station and Camp Schiefflin. Ruth and I, residents of the vulnerable Catherine Mills Rehab Road neighborhood, found ourselves in imminent danger. One July morning, at around 4am, the fighting became heavy in the vicinity of our street and very near our home. Frightened, we had to protect ourselves by lying on the floor of our bedroom until the shooting stopped around 10am. While thusly positioned, Ruth on one side of the bed and I on the other, I began to regret ever encouraging my wife to stay on in Liberia. I turned and said to her: "Darling, we are going to die." Her reply to me was: "Let us repeat the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer." Alarmingly, two shots entered our home that morning, but luckily we were unhurt thanks to the Almighty who was surely guiding us "through the valley of the shadow of death"
Due to the heavy warfare, we were force to leave our home and join 53 others from the neighborhood who had gathered at the home of Mrs. Sarah Cooper for safety. A month later, even this haven became unsafe and we all had to split up--some went over to Duport Road while others, such as ourselves, gathered at the residence of Dr. and Mrs. John B. Blamo with mixed feelings and great apprehension. We were 13 in number and remained at the Blamos' until September, during such time Ruth and I witnessed our home, including our car, being cleared away by the rebels.
Our last week at this location saw heavy fighting again ensue between Charles Taylor's insurgents and soldiers of the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL). One morning the rebels advised all occupants in the Blamos home to move to yet another safe place. Thus, amidst the fiercest fighting to date, we gathered our belongings and transferred to Mr. Philips Banks' newly constructed residence above the farm of the late James Cooper. We spent that day and night in Banks' basement without food. The following day, the rebels told us we could return to the Blamos'. As I was suffering from a serious and painful bout of rheumatism, fluid having collected in both of my knees, I had to be carried about in a wheelbarrow by our watchman Ballah as I could not walk. While en route to the Blamo home, one of the rebels became furious as we were in the street and decided then and there to kill me where I stood. Just as he raised his gun and aimed it directly at me, another rebel who was familiar with the Armstongs called out; "Don't shoot the ol'man, I know him." Ruth had reached our destination before me and was anxiously awaiting my arrival. She was unaware of what I had just experienced. My friends, I came very close to being killed. Indeed, less then a minute between life and death. "For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
September-October, 1990: In September, the rebel commando assigned to our neighborhood advised those of us at the Blamos that we should return to our respective homes. We complied, returning to a house ransacked by the rebels and devoid of all furniture except one bed--and the only reason they left that was due to its size. The bed was too big to carry out the door and they had no time to take it apart.
We remained in our home until one October morning when about 15 rebels appeared with guns blaring and demanded that we vacate the neighborhood and travel to Harbel. The reasons given this time were that the forces of Prince Yormie Johnson (INPFL) and AFL soldiers were attacking our area. Indeed, the entire neighborhood was being cleared to enable the rebels to carry out their evil deal-stealing. Refusal meant being killed. We witnessed this when a Lebanese man, who had stubbornly refused to abandon his home, and his two sons were killed in their yard and their bodies were abandoned for the dogs to devour. Not even allowed to pack our clothes, we left our home carrying only that which we had on.
Still suffering from rheumatic fluid build-up in my knees and unable to walk, I had to be carried about once again in a wheelbarrow by our houseboy Junior Danmark Sunshine who was Bassa by tribe, While we were journeying up the Schiefflin-Robertsfield Highway, my wife was repeatedly searched and robbed at every checkpoint. As an American national, the ordeal was very harrowing for Ruth personally as, at one checkpoint, the rebels accused her of being a spy for the US since she had not left when the other Americans had vacated the country earlier in the year. Yet when I would reach a checkpoint, I being in a wheelbarrow, they would say: "Let the ol' man pass." Yes, the Lord was still with us (smile).
While still traveling on this particular highway to Harbel, a medic vehicle belonging to the rebels drove up. Speaking with the driver in Bassa, Junior begged him to please help and, gratefully, the rebels gave us a ride the rest of the way but not to Harbel; they having stopped short at Unification Town. Can you see how the Almighty was with us?
On our arrival we registered with the local commando in charge of the Office of Displaced People. Unification Town was teaming with thousands of 'displaced' Liberians from all walks of life. On entering the office, many of the rebels who had been former students at the University recognized Ruth and I. In the same fashion, we had also interacted with the rebels who controlled Catherine Mills Rehab Road back home. Assigned a small room in a rather large house in town that had been seized by the rebels, Ruth and I shared the one bed while Junior, our houseboy, slept on a mattress thrown on the floor. Other so-called 'displaced' people also shared the home. I remember that they were very friendly.
Being 'displaced', we were eligible to receive six (6) pints of rice a week. Again, we are thankful to the Almighty for deliverance. During our stay food was no problem for us for the Lord was good and did provide our daily bread. The ladies within the rebel camp cooked and sent us food daily. At the same time, our housemates and friends prepared food themselves and were willing to share. We were very grateful for such friendly gestures. Certainly, the Lord shall provide for His children.
I say to you that it pays to do good in this world; goodness is never lost. While we were at Unification Town, Massah Ruth Abdullia, a young lady whom we had befriended at the University (who was the daughter of Mrs. Eupheme K. Abdullia, an Armstrong family friend and colleague) heard about our plight. Massah was employed at the Liberian Institute for Biomedical Research (LIBR) at Charlesville in Margibi County and, knowing that we were among the displaced at Unification Town, she and some of her friends came to visit. They at once took note of our living conditions and my poor state of health. Assessing our needs, Massah returned to the Institute and sent back tins of milk, sugar, soap, etc. On her next visit she brought Dr. Eugene Johnson, an African American veterinarian attached to the LIBR Laboratory, who examined me. Determining that Unification Town was unsafe and that I needed serious medical attention, Massah made arrangements with authorities at LIBR (more precisely with Mrs. Betsy Brotman, an American) to have us relocated. Though they had never met my wife or myself, taking Massah on her word that we were good people, the LIBR authorities had agreed to help. One November morning Massah borrowed Betsy's car, which displayed the Canadian flag as Mr. Brotman was serving as Canada's representative at Charlesville, and carried us away from Unification Town where we had been in displacement for one month.
November, 1990 - June 12, 1991: On reaching Charlesville, we were billeted in House #6 within the LIBR Compound which we shared with Massah and two other ladies employed by the Institute. Happily, I began receiving medical treatment for my rheumatism. Food was still not a problem as we continued to receive our six (6) pints of rice, plus beans and oil, a week.
Fortunately, Ruth was hired on to teach at the Compound's elementary school for children of the displaced and LIBR employees. Her compensation was a 100lb bag of rice. Betsy and Brian Brotman supported the Compound School financially. Here, as at Unification Town, everyone was very friendly to us. Ruth and I continued to enjoy the Lord's mercy and grace.
LIBR had been opened and dedicated by the late President William R. Tolbert, Jr. in the late 1970s and was supported by the Blood Center in New York. There were other Liberian doctors employed in various fields of medicine at the Institute. It was here that Ruth and I were privileged to establish contact with our daughters (Evangeline, Charlene, Elizabeth, and Lucille) and my brother-in-law via the Blood Center in New York. As we were duly and officially informed, they were able to send our travel funds to the American Embassy at Abidjan, capital of the neighboring county of Ivory Coast.
On June 11, 1991 we departed the Compound traveling in a 4x4 marked "Red Cross" headed toward Zorzor, Lofa County. We spent the rest of the afternoon and that night at Zorzor and the next day (June 12) we made haste to the Ivory Coast-Liberia border with much apprehension. At each checkpoint the driver told the guards that we were "going to the next town to deliver medicine" when asked "where are you traveling?". And so it went until we gratefully crossed the border. On our entry into the Ivory Coast, I breathed fresh air, knocked all the Liberian dust from my weary feet and said: "Thank God."
On our arrival in Abidjan, having traveled by bus from Danane, we went directly to the American Embassy, picked up or travel funds, made a few international calls to our daughters and my brother-in-law, then waited. We rested for eight (8) days at Abidjan for a connecting flight to the States; leaving on the 22nd for Miami via Paris, France and landing on American soil on June 23rd. From Miami we boarded a flight to Tallahassee's Regional Airport where we were met by our beloved daughters and other relatives who were most happy to see us, and we them, indeed. You can bet, that was one joyous occasion.
As the 24th Chapter, 15th verse of the Book of Joshua says:
...but as for me and my house, I will serve the Lord!" |