A Happy Childhood in Whayongar Town

September 16, 1948, was a day of great rejoicing in rural Whayongar Town, Grand Bassa, Liberia. A boy was born to a daughter of the town, Conwree Neor Innis, and Philip Innis. His parents named him John.

"This boy will be our future liberator," the people said. "He will save us from the injustice and cruelty of soldiers and government officials, from forced labor, oppressive taxes, and terrible punishments."

In later years I looked back at this prophetic expectation as a kind of signpost for my life. But while I was growing up in Whayongar Town, for the most part I took the attitude of the people for granted, just as I did my playmates' always choosing me as their leader. But at one point I did ask my maternal grandparents, with whom I lived, why I was singled out in the thinking of the townspeople. I was not the only boy child born in 1948 in Whayogar Town, my mother's hometown. "It's because your father was educated by Western standards," they told me. "Therefore you, too, will be educated. You will become a leader in the Liberian government and will free us from government oppression."

For many years before I was born, the people of Whayongar Town, as well as those of other rural areas of Liberia, were subjected to dehumanizing treatment both by soldiers of the Liberian Frontier Force (LFF) and by local government officials. One of the most feared forms of torture came during the collecting of "Head" and "Hut" taxes. The Liberian government not only imposed a tax on every rural hut or dwelling in every community, but they also taxed every family head. The vast majority of rural people were very poor and couldn't afford to pay these taxes. So revenue collectors and the LFF soldiers who accompanied them devised special punishments for delinquents. One was to have the individual kneel on sharp broken palm kernel shells. Another was to make the person lie on his or her back with eyes open to the sun.

Kpee-kpee was another painful form of punishment. An ingenious foot cuff was made from two sticks twisted and tied at both ends around the calf of the leg. The rope at one end was tied tight while the other end was loose. The loosened portion was gradually tightened if the delinquent person delayed in paying the tax. Further delays caused further tightening, increasing the pain on the fibula. This would go on until someone volunteered to pay the tax. Sometimes the victim would have to pawn valuable possessions—sometimes even a daughter!

Rural people were forced to clear, plant, and harvest the farms of local government officials, district commissioners, clan, and paramount chiefs. They were also impelled by soldiers and officials to carry heavy loads on their heads and shoulders. These often consisted of chickens, goats, rice, and other provisions that had been forcibly collected from the people. At other times they had to carry the "official hammock." Since there were no motor roads through the rural areas in those days, traveling government officials were conveyed from one place to another in a hammock carried on the heads and shoulders of men from the rural villages. When public roads were constructed, it was through forced labor by workers using homemade machetes, hoes, and axes. No wonder the people of Whayongar Town were ready for a liberator.

Whayongar Town is located in Neepu Clan, District #4, in the coastal county of Grand Bassa in the West African State of Liberia. Bassa is the anglicized name for Bahsor, an ethnic group. Though the Bahsor, or Bahsor-nyon, according to the national census, form the second largest tribe in Liberia next to the Kpelle, they occupy more than four political subdivisions or counties, while the Kpelles are mainly concentrated in one county.

My father, Philip Dwah Innis, came from Morblee, in Harlandsville Township, District #3, in Grand Bassa County. His parents were Gboryrun Dwah and his wife, Chenda. Grandpa Dwah had thirteen children: six boys—Miller, Zayway, Sunday, Alfred, Jeremiah, and Philip, my father; and seven girls—Blohso, Sarday, Julia, Yonnonkplen, Titi, Yarnein, and Kpayehwheh.

Grandpa Dwah sent my father when he was very young to live with the Reverend Joseph T. Innis in Upper Buchanan, a suburb of the capital of Grand Bassa County on the west Atlantic coast. In Liberia in those days, it was a common practice, termed the Ward System (WS), for indigenous families to send their children, mainly boys, to live with a settler family who were descendants of freed slaves from the United States that established modern Liberia. The first settlers came in the 1820s, and Liberia gained independence in 1847, but African Americans continued to emigrate through the rest of the nineteenth and into the twentieth centuries. In Liberian history they are referred to as Americo-Liberians. The boys often adopted the surname of the settler family, as my father did.

The original intent of the WS was "to educate, Christianize, and civilize" young Liberians based on Western standards. The Americo-Liberians were joined later in the nineteenth century by some people of color from the West Indies. Later emancipated Africans from the Congo basin joined them. These three groups constitute the settler class in Liberia, making up all told about 5 to 6 percent of the population.

Joseph Innis, Dad's guardian, was a Methodist pastor. He later became superintendent of Grand Bassa County, a political appointment. Hence my father was well placed to begin his Christian and his academic life. He started school in Upper Buchanan, the capital of Grand Bassa County, where some of his fellow students were prominent Liberians Arthur Summerville, Philip Brumskine, Hannibal Brumskine, and Samuel T. Summerville. Later Dad enrolled in Hazel Academy, where he finished the eighth grade before returning to Morblee. Hazel Academy was a Methodist institution until it was transformed into a public school and renamed Bassa High. Eventually he became a schoolteacher.

My father joined the Methodist Episcopal Church, now The United Methodist Church, in the latter part of 1930, and on his return to Morblee he became very active in the church. One of his early positions was that of choir director for Camphor Memorial Methodist Church, now Garfield Methodist Church in Tubmanville Township, Grand Bassa County. Later he became secretary of the St. John River District, MC and held this position for thirty-three years. He was much loved for his efficient and dedicated service.

Although he was a Christian, my father was a polygamist and had fourteen children. The five girls are Juah, the oldest of all of us, Sundaymah, Esther, Sayyea (whose nickname is Yeadoe) and Felicia (whose nickname is Tupee). The nine boys are James, Nathaniel, Roosevelt, Jerry, Dwahyuway, William, Patrick, Teedoe and myself—John.

My mother, Conwree, was also a devoted Christian and the mother of three children—Nathaniel, Felicia, and myself. I am the oldest. Mom was born in her home community of Whayongar Town, one of six children of Glor Neor and his wife, Kamah. Her three brothers are: Big Borbor, Small Borbor, and Levi; her two sisters are: Sorday and Posseh.

Mom first joined St. John Methodist Church in Neepu, her native clan. When she and Dad got married, she became a member of Camphor Memorial MC, where she sang in the choir and later served as a class leader. A committed Christian, she exhibited great love and care, not only for her own children and immediate relatives, but also for others outside the family circle.

Shortly after my birth, my mother left me with her parents, Glor Neor and Kamah, and returned to Morblee, my father's hometown. Though this action might seem to contradict my description of my mother's love and care, such is not the case. Her leaving me with her parents was simply a fulfillment of a prevailing cultural practice. It was common for grandparents to take care of their grandchildren, especially in the case of a first-born. The reason behind this practice still exists today among both rural and urban Liberians. Our people believe that a young woman giving birth for the first time is not experienced enough to take proper care of the baby. Since I was my mother's first child, my "grands" took me from her.

I found a cozy place in my grandparents' hearts. Since I was the only baby in the home, I was accorded all the necessary attention. I never went hungry, and whenever they suspected any sign of illness they took precautionary measures, using appropriate herbs. If the illness was beyond their control they would immediately inform my mother and father.

I grew up with my Aunt Posseh and my two cousins, Yonnin and Yarwhor, who were older than I. Aunt Posseh always teased me by saying, "Your grandparents will spoil you." I would go crying to my grands and repeat Aunt Posseh's statement. They would scold Aunt Posseh and warn her against making me feel dejected. But Aunt Posseh's teasing remarks were not meant to hurt. In reality, she complemented the love and care of my grandparents. Regrettably, Aunt Posseh died during the Liberian civil war. Two of her daughters, Titi and Theresa, became very close to my family before her death. Titi died just four years after her mother.

I had many happy moments as a child growing up in Whayongar Town. All of us children enjoyed drawing images on the ground with our fingers or bamboo chips or small sticks. We would make tiny houses and villages out of moist sandy soil, bamboo twigs, leaves, and sticks, using both our hands and our feet. The dirt houses took the least time but were the most difficult to construct. We'd pile moist soil over a foot and ankle, patting the soil down with our hands, until it seemed firm enough. Then the foot would be gradually and delicately pulled away. If the soil had been sufficiently moist, evenly distributed, and properly molded on the foot, the house stood firm. Otherwise it collapsed. The hollow made by the foot produced a one-room house with an arch entrance. We'd construct several "foot" houses together to make a town or village, sometimes enclosing them with walls made of moist soil or bamboo twigs.

Like all children, we played athletic games, racing each other to determine who was the fastest. But some of our favorite games were word games. One was the leg-counting chant known as Bloo Bloo. The leader of the game kneels or squats in front of the others who sit close together with their legs stretched out in front of them. He gently brushes his fingertips over the thighs of each child in turn, chanting, "Bloo, bloo."

"Yaa, yaa," they respond in time with his chanting.

When he stops chanting, he asks the child whose leg he is touching, "Nyen kin bho mza-ayeh?" Meaning, "Whose leg do you wish to take out?"

"Mza-aye mbaa bho," the child might say. "I want to take out my daddy's leg."

The chanting and selection goes on until all the children's "legs," as well as the "legs" of their parents and family members, have been "taken out." No one can be named twice. (The full chant is given in appendix 1.)

Other songs and chants taught us to recognize wild birds and animals by their sounds and calls, which we learned to interpret and to imitate. The yellow rice bird, nyanmana, is believed to tease farmers before and after devouring the crop, calling booga, booga—the name of the most popular strain of locally cultivated rice! The chant we learned started with that mocking:

Booga, booga
Young nectar's sweet, sweet;
The owner's heart p-a-i-n-s;
Only my heart e-a-s-e-s.

We also had a sad song about the dove, one that not only tries to imitate its mournful coo, as you can hear when you sound out the words, but also refers to the rules of group eating. The rules for children decree that each child takes food from the bowl in turn, starting with the eldest and ending with the youngest. No one is allowed to take an extra large helping—that is a sign of greediness. Any child who tries to take more is scolded, beaten, or stopped from eating, as happened to the poor dove.

Sauhn plin-aye, Doo plin-aye:
Mouhn munye plin nyehn,
Noo nyan-mahn-in gbagbor du koo, koo, koo!
Ai say-o mdi poo-poo jayn
Mouhn da-o-wheah mu say, say, say.

Sauhn took his turn, Doo took his turn,
When I tried to take my turn,
With the butt of the cooking hook
Mother knocked my head bong, bong, bong!
If it weren't for my relation, brown pigeon,
For the highlands I'd have left long ago, ago, ago!

We had several songs that imitated the brown pigeon and also referred to the farming of rice and the need to protect the rice and crops at all stages from the birds. In the most popular version, the pigeon asks the farmer and his family in the first line, "Why do you go to the farm so early, before the day breaks?" The fact is that rice farmers leave town for their farms very early in the morning, since the farms are a good distance away and they want to drive away the birds that come in the early morning hours to feed on the seeds and grains.

In the second line of the song, the pigeon tells the farmer, "A lump of Gbehzohn [Grand Bassa] dumboy costs two cents." Gbehzohn is the original name of Grand Bassa County, and dumboy is the Bassa favorite dish. The farmer and his family shouldn't work so hard to keep the birds from eating the crops when they can eat their favorite food so cheaply! (See appendix 1 for this chant, and another one about the brown pigeon.)

Storytelling was a favorite evening event in Whayongar Town that all of us children eagerly looked forward to. After the evening meal, we would gather in the town's central courtyard under the silvery glow of the moon, or around the warm yellow flames of a kitchen hearth to hear the older folks tell us beautiful stories, and sometimes to tell them ourselves. Most of the stories featured Sahn as the main character. Sahn, Spider, is the symbol of gluttony, craftiness, selfishness, covetousness, slothfulness, and the like. Because of these negative qualities, he is popularly referred to as Juku Sahn or Geekpeh Kadeaye. The stories often showed us how Spider got his comeuppance. For one famous Spider story, see appendix 1.

Other popular stories featured Deh Vennehn, Big Monster, and Ghee Vennehn, Big Lord. Some were puzzle stories—Dweyn Nouhn—while others were epic tales, referred to as Yuduahnkayu, meaning "never-ending," featuring the legendary twin brothers, Zahntohn and Yukpeegar.

The simplest story was about Great, Great Big-Headed Tadpole—Borhnor Du Gua Gua Gohno, and was usually sung. For this and almost every story the narrator begins by saying, or singing, "I am present"—"Mohn niowo." The audience responds by singing the title refrain, "Gohrhnor due gua gua gohno," "Great, Great Big-Headed Tadpole." As the story goes on in short phrases and clauses, the audience periodically repeats the refrain.

In the Bassa culture, every story begins with the narrator's placing himself or herself in the action of the story, "I am present." Sometimes the narrator would compare the height or age or mannerisms of a character with someone in the audience or in the village. The stories generally portrayed the struggle between good and evil, virtue and vice, love and hate, and both good and bad were the focal points. In concluding the story, the narrator would emphasize the good and the bad results, leaving it up to us children to decide which side to choose. Quite often, the good morals were the most appealing. But strangely, some kids wished they were Spider, so that they could eat as much food as he did, especially in those stories featuring Spider as a glutton.

Another game we children often played was holding church, and my friends selected me to pastor this mock church. As "pastor," I imitated the mannerisms and preaching style of the Reverend Alfred W. Page, who was then the pastor of St. John's Methodist Church in Neepu, where I was born and brought up, since he was the only spiritual leader I knew. This was not the only time I was chosen by my friends to be their leader.

Our time as children was not spent solely on fun and leisure. Every child in Whayongar Town had to help with the household work. We also helped our parents and grandparents on the farm and in the fields. Our main farm job was to help drive away the devouring rice birds. This was done at three different times in the growing season. The first was during planting time. The second came when the rice heads burst forth from the shoots and the flat husks began to swell with sweet milky nectar. The third was when the crop was ready to be harvested.

Children also helped in various community activities. House daubing was one of these. When a new house, created of poles and sticks, was ready to be daubed—plastered with clay—the owner would ask parents and grandparents to let their children help. The girls were assigned to work in the kitchen with the women preparing the food for the Beewhor—the daubing feast. The girls also helped the women haul water for the preparation of the mortar.