Good Bye Comrade Brother James Logan Till we Meet Again

It was on Friday, January 31, 2014 when I walked into the yard of The Stryker Funeral Home located on Tubman Boulevard, Monrovia, Liberia, at exactly 9 O’clock ante meridian.

When I looked on my right hand side of the yard, there stood Hon. Dr. H. Boima Fahnbulleh, Jnr., the firing and agitating speaker emerging in the late 70s and 80s. His sister Hon. Miata Fahnbulleh, the one with the silver voice, was standing on his left hand side. I stopped with them; greeted them. And I expressed my heartfelt condolences for the passing of Comrade Logan.

Then I looked around. Guess what?

I saw Comrades. They were all over the Funeral yard like sea gulfs. I don’t mean this in a negative way. I mean, for the past 30 years, I have never seen that amount of comrades coming together in the same area at the same time. It wasn’t only striking, it was wonderfully wonderful. Hmm! 

I saw comrades Duworko, Alaric – we call him “Che,” Ezekiel Pajibo, Augustine Solomon, Kotie, Peter Karr, Dweh Boley and you name the rest. They occupied the Funeral Home yard as if they were settlers or pioneers in a native land.

Oh! Before I miss this one; on the other side of the yard, I saw Hon. Kofi Woods; I saw Hon. James Fromoyan, Hon. Steward, Justice Jamesetta Wolokollie, Hon. Weade Kobah and the line went-on-and-on. This scene could not be ignored by any normal person. No way! I’m sure, had Presidents Tolbert, Doe and Taylor arrived there, something would have vibrated in their very souls. But hey, they are gone and gone forever!

Such a gathering in a funeral home yard gave me reminiscence.

I was reminded of the day of “old” when we met on Ashmun Street; when I say “we” I mean MOJA – The Movement for Justice in Africa. The Headquarters was at Dr. Tipoteh’s residence in the 80s; at least that’s when I became a part. But mind you, we were all very young and vibrant. That time, one could see the promise of the future glaring in our faces.

But something happened: the faces I saw on that Friday morning were not the same like the ones I saw 30 years previous to this funeral yard gathering. Age has hit the fence. There were lots of graybeards and bald heads in the lot. I noticed this was no fashion. This was real. And it was real in the strict sense.

All I described above will be analyzed in due course at a later date; at a later time to see what happened to the progressives of Liberia - those that the people depended on to deliver them from the “evil” political and economic system and leaders.