I was born and reared in
Harper City, Maryland County. If you check the map of Liberia, geographically, Maryland
is located in the keyhole, deep in the belly of the Southeastern Region. There I
spent my formative days. Until I returned from outside Liberia, the things I
saw and continue to see beat every inch of my imagination. That’s the bad part of my experience.
But there’s a good part.
Until now, when I returned home
after being away for years, I will admit, I did not know much about my hometown
and people as I know now. As a young man growing up in Maryland, there were
lots of people that I didn’t know very well but left an impact and indelible
print on my life. And the late Bishop Boniface Nyema Dalieh happened to be one
of those people.
I didn’t know Bishop Dalieh
when I was growing up. Maybe I did. But I don’t remember.
I can
recall in Harper, a Liberian Catholic Bishop passed on; I think it was Bishop
Juwle. We buried him in Harper City adjacent to The St. Theresa Cathedral on
Maryland Avenue, right opposite the Catholic Ballpark. As kids, we all were in the
Funeral procession in our school uniforms. Suddenly, for whatever reason (s), I
lost touch with the Catholic Church in Harper. Not in a negative way; But I
just didn’t follow up anything else about the Catholic Church and its
administration.
I cannot
explain why and how this happened. But it did!
On May 1,
2007, I touched ground in Liberia. I came from abroad. I had been away far too
long traveling few countries around the globe and ending up in the United
States of America.
While I was
away, a civil war engulfed Liberia and caused so much damage to infrastructure
and human resource. So upon my return, noticeably, things dramatically changed;
the people and infrastructures were different. That made my work back home
rather a whole new “ball game” forcing me to adopt and tailor my strategies to
fit such reality.
Now, I can
understand if Monrovia had dramatically changed. Because, whatever the changes were,
would not and did not affect my psyche. Why? Because I wasn’t born and reared
in Monrovia. But when I got home in Maryland (my hometown) where I was born and
reared, the stark difference painfully hit me on the forehead. And it drove me nuts!
Most of my
friends I grew up with left and traveled far away. So they were nowhere to be
found. Others passed on. Those I met at home had terribly aged. And I was
strangely dismayed. But all the same, I contained the shocked as it ran through
my spinal cord. The shock penetrated the abyss of my soul. So I could not pretend that
it did not hurt. So I accepted the condition and treated it with calm and
understanding.
With all of
these uninmaginable happenings around me, others like Mr. Pike Mike Jury, who
shared by view, wanted us to bring back the “old” days and revive some of the
things needed for renewal. So a county reunion idea clicked in and we embarked
upon the implementation.
Prior to
our work in this direction, series of attempts were made by other Marylanders before
my arrival back home. And so, the idea wasn’t new, except that I introduced a
new approach.
By getting
involved in the reunion activities, I was able to come face-to-face with Bishop
Dalieh for the very first time in my life.
And this is
the essence of this testimonial.
When we
formed The Reunion Committee, Bishop Dalieh became the Chair. He made me his
secretary. The man (Bishop Dalieh) whose secretary I became was a religious
man. Everyone including myself knew that. I, on the other hand, wasn’t much
religious. No one knew that in Maryland at the time. See, I am an unorthodox
Christian. And that speaks volumes in Liberian reality. I talk Liberation
Theology, which is not new to the Catholic Church. Because, there’s where it
derived. Quickly, I think the Bishop figured all that out as an experienced
man, well-learned and familiar with the different views of religion. He made a quick shift after I authored my first letter to the
public.
My first letter
for the reunion was critical of the Maryland Legislative Caucus. Because, in my
view, in order for us to begin to heal our wounds as a society, we needed to
begin to provide justice to all. So, the letter placed a serious question mark
on the integrity of the Maryland Legislative Caucus. Soon, Bishop instructed
his views to be produced from his Catholic Diocese’s office instead of coming from
me. I didn’t ask any question. I just adjusted myself. Because a man of his
caliber needed to have someone who understood his philosophy in life and his
work to author his views. I was not qualified in that strict sense. So I took
on another responsibility mobilizing Marylanders in Monrovia and the Diaspora.
We all
began working together. We tried hosting the first Reunion, which would have
been the third of Bishop’s participation; it did not succeed. We went after it
again the following year. That year was my second attempt. It too partly succeeded.
Soon we realized (I knew from the get-go) that the problem holding us back as a
county had its genesis in the Caucus. So every time we tried and tried limited
lights came on in the tunnel. The lack of funding broke us apart. So each of us
when our separate ways. But we kept the camaraderie alive.
Within this
period of separation, Bishop and I came into loggerhead position. I use
“loggerhead” in this post not in a negative way. It is not the kind of “loggerhead”
that makes Liberian hunt each other down fiercely. Ours was ideological and
civil.
This is
what happened:
As a social
justice advocate, I organized nonviolent protest demonstrations and defiance campaigns
in Maryland. And this was strange in Maryland especially so, when demonstrations
caused too much infrastructural destruction. And nobody wanted to see that happening
anymore. But I managed successfully all of those demonstrations and campaigns that
I led from degenerating into chaos. But all the same, coming out of the
experience of generalized anarchy of violence, some people of Maryland were
still scare to march in the streets protesting.
I quickly
found out that Bishop did not like my style of advocacy at first. He never told
me so. But knowing Liberian people as we all do, those he mentioned it to,
informed me. So I got the news from the grapevine. No harm meant! I knew that
much!
For
example, I advocated for the shipwreck victims. Tens and tens of women’s
revenue and goods rest in the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Others lost their
lives. I held the Liberian government responsible for allowing vessels that
were not seaworthy plying our waters and killing our citizens and residents.
The process
of advocacy lasted for three years. In the end, the Liberian government agreed
with me and paid reparation to the victims.
Prior to that,
I conducted a nonviolent peaceful demonstration and sit-in action with more
than 10,000 men and women. We shut down the entire county for three unbroken
days. UNMIL sea vessels were unable to dock. And this captured national and
international headlines. President Sirleaf, via cell phone, called us asking us
to discontinue the protest demonstration. We didn’t immediately disengage. So some
of those who marched with us, including Bishop Dalieh, took on a different
posture. Bishop then began to look at me negatively. He didn’t say this to me,
personally. But at some point, he spoke with others in the community. And those
he spoke with told me. But I ignored it. I didn’t ignore it in a disrespectful
manner to the Bishop. But I had a job to do. The people were confiding in me
and the protest demonstrations, for the first time in Maryland, were not
degenerating into chaos and the direct goals of reparations were being
achieved.
As a man of
God, I knew Bishop understood where I was coming from and where I was heading.
But I think he was afraid of past mistakes being repeated. As an honorable man I couldn’t argue with him.
What made me see him more as a
man of God is that Bishop agreed that Jesus set the example for servant ministry. And that in Jesus’ life and ministry, He gave
priority to the least, the last, the lost and the left out. And that we as
Christians would follow in His footsteps by serving the needs of people. I believe Bishop knew that the Holy Spirit
equips us for service by giving us gifts for ministry and by giving us a
passion for serving the needs of others.
And so he (Bishop) live his life encouraging others to invest their
lives in ministries of compassion and justice, moving towards God’s vision. When
Bishop prayed for me at my residence, he prayed that our service that we have
and continue to render to our fellow Brethren and Sistren will create a ripple
of grace that touches and transforms people’s lives throughout our one
world.
Without a
doubt, Bishop understood all this better than I do. So I prayed and looked up
to God for my help so that one day Bishop would get to know me better and
understand what I stand for while he was alive.
God heard
my prayer.
As a true
man of God, Bishop did exactly what God asked him to – he visited
with me. From that day, I received a new and powerful lesson to forge my future
in my advocacy work.
Here’s how
it happened:
One day, I
came from Downtown Harper. Just as I got closed to my residence, Bishop was
sitting at my next door neighbor’s place. I didn’t see him until he called my
attention. When I looked in his direction, he told me that he had come to see
me. Not that I didn’t believe him, but I was shocked. Why? Because I did not
expect the Bishop to come to my residence to see me. I expected him to call me
to come over to his office or house to see him. Not the other way around. So I
kept walking. Then he reechoed his call. Immediately, I had to stop. So I walked
in his direction. Next thing I know, he was on his feet. He wasn’t sitting
anymore. He took few baby-steps towards me. Mind you, Bishop was quite over the
proverbial hill. I had to say something to him. I said, “Bishop, please wait for
me, I’m coming to you.” He replied, “No, Bedell, I’m behind you. I’m coming
upstairs to your apartment.” Judging from the many steps that one had to take
to go upstairs my residence, I concluded that Bishop could not make it. Why? Because
I thought he was an elderly man. And his knees were no longer stronger. But Bishop convinced me he could make it
upstairs. And he did! He followed me. when I got up, I put my keys in the door
and unlocked it. I stood right at the entrance and waited for Bishop. He slowly
took one step at a time, soon he was upstairs. I showed him in and offered him a
seat. And he sat down.
Then all
began to unravel.
He first
told me that Sen. Ballout had complained to him that I was not giving him
(Ballout) support. And so he asked that I work with Sen. Ballout. It was a pure
appeal that the Bishop offered me. So I did not ask him what exactly Sen.
Ballout said about me. From the manner in which Bishop made the appeal and
giving the fact that he climbed upstairs to speak with me and he came all the
way from his residence to my neck of the woods to see me, I knew he was very
serious and he meant every word he spoke from his lips. Without any hesitation,
I did what he asked me: I immediately dialed Sen. Ballout’s cell phone digits
and spoke with him. I told the Senator what had just transpired. It was
spiritual! As such, I promised to work with him once he’s willing to do same. I
think Sen. Ballout agreed. And all was set. Bishop thanked me for listening to
him and doing what he asked of me. I too thanked Bishop for coming over to see
me and talk to me. I told him how surprised and shocked I was. And asked him to
forgive me for walking away at first when he told me he was there to see me. We
were done for the day. And Bishop got ready to depart my residence. I held one
of his hands. He used the other hand to hold his cane. And down the stairs we
went. Bishop got in his brand new truck; In Liberia they don’t say “truck” they say “Jeep” and pulled off.
I turned
around to go back to my residence.
That’s when
my eyes caught a good number of neighbors looking in my direction. I think they
did so with apprehension. I think they were as surprise as I was. It seemed to
me that those neighbors who were looking at me were either shocked to see the
Bishop visit me or maybe they had other things running around their brains. Whatever
the case was, I couldn’t say.
I walked through
my door and took a seat in the Living Room just where Bishop and I were sitting
and talking. Then I began to recollect and reflect. For a minute, it seemed to
me that what had just happened was a dream. Imagine the Bishop Emeritus of The
Catholic Diocese of Cape Palmas, who did not like my style of advocacy, came
over at my residence to see me. Such a thought haunted me for the rest of the
week until there was a replay of the same incident but for a different reason.
One week
later, Bishop Dalieh came over again to see me again. This time, I wasn’t shocked. I was mesmerized.
I was talking
with friends in the yard when Bishop approached
in his vehicle. I looked his way as if I were expecting him to visit
with me. Then I saw him disembarked his vehicle. I tried to return to my
conversation with my friends when I noticed something strange: the Bishop
sternly looked at me. That look that came from the Bishop recaptured my
attention. So I kept my eyes on him until I heard him say, “Mr. Bedell, I’m
here to see you.” I rushed to him immediately. Then he said, “Let’s go
upstairs.” Again, I thought of the many steps to go up to my flat where we
earlier met. Slowly but surely, we got upstairs. He sat in the same seat he
used the last time he was at my place. He probably loved that particular seat. I
think because it was very soft and comfortable. The back of the sofa was turned
towards the window facing the Atlantic Ocean. And there’s where the nice breeze
came blowing from. Strategically, I used that particular seat because it faces
the best part of my residence – the kitchen.
Then Bishop
began to speak to me.
This time
it was different. He frowned for a minute. I asked him why. He answered,
“Bedell, my knees are not what they used to be.” In a minute, he was ok. He put
up a smile. And I did too. Then he asked me to come closer. I did. He didn’t
hesitate. He asked me if at all I heard anything he said about me. I didn’t
want to say “yes.” So I said, “No.” Then he asked me to bow my head for a
prayer. I did. He prayed and all was well. I was still wondering as to what was
in the pipeline. But I kept hope alive.
It seemed
like Bishop knew that I knew what he was about to tell me. Why? Because that’s
what wisdom is all about. When you have lived long enough and passed through a
whole lot of things that you learned from and you are a man of God like Bishop,
you would know a lot of things especially, when someone is pretending, like I
was doing.
Then he made
his opening remarks.
He asked me
to forgive him. I asked why. He told me it was something that he said about me
when I newly came to Maryland that he should not have said. He told me what that
was. It was all about my style of advocacy. Did I hear it? I answered in the
affirmative. Because, truly, I heard it around town many times.
Why did I
have to admit that to him so quickly? Simple!
Here is a
man of God who has been around longer than me and probably my dad; he’s come to
my residence to say something that probably troubled him for a while. Who am I
then not to cooperate with him?
I had to
cooperate.
I wanted to
say to Bishop, forget. It’s ok. Then he said, “Let me finish.” I shut up
immediately and waited for him to conclude. And when he did, I knelt before his
Bishopship and apologized for anything I also may have done that may have
troubled him. After that, he took me by the tip of my fingers and asked me to
stand. I did. Then he prayed again and said, “Bedell, I have to leave. I am
expecting an important call from abroad.” As I did previously when Bishop came
to see me, I escorted him down the stairs and he departed.
I looked
around again to see who was watching.
See, in
Liberia, people poke their noses in other people’s business. So of course, some
folks were watching again. This time, I just ignored them and walked in.
Few days
later, Bishop was passing by in his vehicle ( he always went by my way almost
every day to visit his sibling living around my area) when he saw me. He
stopped and spoke with me briefly. Since that time, I have never had the
opportunity to see Bishop nor talk with him again until I heard his knees were
letting him down. Something inside me told me to go and find him. And I did.
See, where Bishop
was living in Harper was a walking distance from me. But I got a ride to go and
visit with him. When I got at his residence, I was told that he was asleep. So
I couldn’t see him. But his staff assured me that they would inform him of my impromptu
visit.
After left
his residence, I never saw or talk to Bishop Dalieh again until I heard that he
had passed on in the United States of America. Indeed, his death news devastated
me and broke my heart!
Right away,
I began to reflect on his visits with me and the things he said to me. They were
resounding in my head. So I bowed my head momentarily, not in prayer, but with
a broken heart. Later on, few tears dropped from
my eyes. That was a sign of regret. Later on I raised my head and I said to
myself, “Who knows better than God? Bishop’s death is God’s will. And as our
Creator, His Will will always be done!” I had to accept the condition and
reality that Bishop Boniface Nyema Dalieh had finally left us, permanently!
Indeed, Bishop
Boniface Nyema Dalieh was truly a man of God. I know that! And I can testify!
The short
time I got to know Bishop Nyema Dalieh, he impacted my life significantly. Some
changes that have occurred in me are because of my meetings with him in a strange
but divine way! For me not to make record of such a humongous and historic meeting
will not be fair to him or I.
Our two
meetings make my life not to be the same again. It’s better! I owe this to the late
Bishop Emeritus of The Catholic Cape Palmas Diocese, The Right Reverend
Honorable Boniface Nyema Dalieh!
May his
soul and the souls of our dear departed rest in Perfect Peace and Light Perpetual
shine upon him!
Goodbye
Bishop! And God be with you till we meet again!
I am T.
Gbuo-Mle Bedell, a social justice advocate; working and speaking on the ground
in Liberia and a victim of police brutality.
