Gbarnga, Bong County, Liberia

It would be poetically quiet now in mid-Liberia from this third-floor balcony, dawn coming up through a rainy-season gray but for the grinding air conditioning unit back of my neck and the roosters sounding the obvious down there.

We came Thursday from Monrovia, over three hours north to Bong County and Gbarnga (“bawn-gaa”). For Applied Scholastics, we are here to introduce Study Technology to a second group of 100 Bong Co educators.  Jay and Nigerian colleague Olatunde Odewumi delivered to the first 100 in May;  they will wrap with another 100 in November.

Our venue is the Nasser Hotel, a four-story concrete and glass facility, built/owned by one of our youth grads from the early human rights education days, 20-plus years back.  One knows this facility is Africa, among other things, because: a) the driveway is a nondescript dirt track – likely impassable in the rain – bending around to the seeming backside of the building; b) entry is through a sliding high steel gate, opened by horn honk; c) roving chickens are part of the cleaning crew; d) the blinding sheen of the made-in-China floor tiles is only surpassed by their deadly slickness when wet; and e) looking down at all times in commons areas is mandatory for the sudden and irregular steps up/down.  Yet, no complaints. The place is comfortable, secure and home for our time here.

While acute crises such as COVID and Ebola have temporarily crippled Liberian development, the corrosion of educational standards and widespread illiteracy are the enduring plagues threatening life in the region. And so … here we are.

We start just the far side of 9:30.  Jay does his intro thing. He assures the assembled we are going to journey way beyond business as usual. Dr. O then does his thing over the bulk of the day, the three study barriers and their solutions, with most attentive throughout.

Our aim was to wrap and hit the road for Monrovia by 5:00. Particularly with rain promised (the Old Testament kind), it’s best to avoid dark night driving over those 90 miles. Dark is the word: street lights are rare and on-the-shoulder walkers flashing out of the gloom plentiful.

Yet, we are not going to shortchange the message to those gathered. It’s 5:30 even before Jay comes back for the finale. I preface him:

“I came to Africa and Ghana in 2005 for a one-week youth conference on human trafficking. Joining us came Jay Yarsiah, in from somewhere called Liberia (not Libya), less than two years after the shooting stopped and spinning out his should-not-have-escaped-death story overlying the amputations, butcheries and other unspeakable brutalities of the 13-year genocide. At the close of that week, Jay asked and I agreed to help in his country … somewhere, somehow.

“And here we are, 20-plus years on. My plan was one week in Africa and out, but I never left. Yes, geographically back-and-forth, but my connection has never severed.

“Most in this room lived through the horror. Those days marked each one of you deeply, whether shot, shooter, sexually violated, and all a witness to the slaughter.

“The world has nothing to offer you at any scale of what you offer the world. Liberians hold out the greatest gift of all, recognition that to love, to live despite all the reasons one could by rights perpetuate the hate and retribution. Together, you affirm the most enduring force of this universe, the human spirit.

“So … thank you.”

Now comes Jay, passionately reviving purpose and responsibility by walking these educators through the Liberian Pledge of Allegiance for its actual meaning. Together, hand on heart, they intone:

I pledge allegiance to the flag of Liberia and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

He challenges them. “You have recited this pledge 1000s of times, you lead the pledge in your classrooms, your kids recite it back to you daily.  But do you know the actual meanings of the words?”

The answers tend to be boilerplate.  Teachers commonly define “liberty” as freedom and freedom as liberty. But it’s not circular and liberty is not some static.  It’s a condition of self-determination, to be able to act and to speak freely, that must be maintained, protected.

With the key words defined, they now see the Pledge in a different way. It’s not recited sounds.   With literacy, they see it as the Founders did in 1847.  179 years later, Liberians are still fighting for the same thing.

Jay challenges them further: “Educated” does not mean a person is literate. True literacy is not just the ability to read and write. It is the ability to grasp concepts, to evaluate their importances and to operate with judgment toward worthy ends. He asks, “As a teacher, the question becomes what is your commitment to Liberia to educate your students?  As leaders in your own right,  you  have that mission, not the government, the politicians, the pastors or the captains of industry.  As a dedicated educator, you can now recognize, ‘This is my responsibility. I didn't cause it, but I'm responsible for it.’"

We are planting seeds. How many will bear fruit?

Wheels are rolling back to Monrovia at 6:30, 30 minutes before sunset. Thus, most of this excursion will be in blackness with our not-so-hot beams, navigation as much by horn and intuition as by steering. Jay is the master, not too fast, not too slow around the ubiquitous motorcycles, less frequent Honda civics and the occasional monster Chinese-made 18-plus wheel haulers.

Out of the murk appear and fade assorted settlements and the two big towns, Weala and Kakata, the headlights suddenly reflecting roadside toddler hands welded to their moms’ as they sweep the kids away from danger, little feet off ground.

It's now 150 minutes in. The traffic thickens outside Coca Cola Factory. Jay throws the dice by going straight on through “Redlight,” the largest market in Monrovia, named after the only wartime traffic light in the country, now gone. That convergence could spell a two- or three-hour wait if jammed. This time, it’s smooth sailing.

We alight upon our Monrovia accommo’s exactly three hours from departure. A helping of pepper chicken and good night, all.

See also:

• Heart in the Darkness - Business as Unusual Stepping into Liberia June, 2006 (May 1, 2026)
• The Road Taken - Fellow Travelers on Humanity’s Highway (July 21, 2023)
• Liberian Rain - A West African Chronicle July 15-30, 2023 (July 18, 2023)

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Tim Bowles

Saturday, August 15, 2026