|
Sam expected things to cool off, as he examined the controversy
about Liberian writer Nvasekie Konneh’s recent poem. A Christian, he
believed Christ-like attitude should be the hallmark of every Christian.
“Darn,” he said, turning the paper in his hand, “this is something.”
The evening weather had sneaked in on the sleepy city of Monrovia, and he felt a sense of wonder about it. He could not understand the workings of nature.
“What’s that something?’
The voice had come from Jane Wilson, twenty two years, and it had startled him a bit.
“See,” he turned to her, and pointed his right hand with the document, “it is a nice poem about something and I think you should read it.”
Jane’s eyes brightened up, grasping it from his him. Sam watched her from the corner of his eye, and wondered how she might respond to the poem. The poem, written by a young Liberian poet and writer had been making rounds on the internet and many reading it had expressed their inner opposition to it.
From the corner of his eye, Sam waited for her reaction, having known her for being open-minded and a nice follower of Christ. Silence pervaded around them as she ran her eyes through the poem, and once in a while she would stretch her eyes in a moment of surprise.
The Poem:
Jesus Died in Liberia
By Nvasekie N. Konneh
Who says Jesus was crucified
in Palestine 2000 years ago? No, Jesus was not crucified
over there in Palestine.
He was crucified on April 12, 1980 in Liberia.
He was a good man,
who meant well for his people and nation.
He was a Renaissance man
who envisioned a new day for his people.
He was between two raging fires
which he found so hard to extinguish
and was consumed by both
in such a ferocious manner.
One side demanded: Change Now! Change Now! Change Now!
The other side reacted: No Change! No Change! No Change!
and they couldn’t find the middle ground
that was necessary to save the day.
Who tells you that Jesus died 2000 years ago?
No, Jesus did not die over there,
he died on April 12, 1980
in Liberia.
He died for the sins of his ancestors
who sold each other into slavery
He died for the sins of his grandfathers and fathers
who discriminated against their own kind.
Don’t believe the hype
Jesus did not die in Palestine 2000 years ago
he died on April 12, 1980 for the sins of his people
in the nation yet to recover from self-inflicted wounds.
Then in a brief moment, she glanced up, folding the paper and her hands across her chest said, “He did not mean anything serious with this, did he?”
“I thought so but others don’t.”
She laughed, “I think it may have something to do with the kind of person he is, a good writer is an artist.”
“Exactly,” Sam said, “after all, I cannot find it a horrible experience for a writer to express his feelings about what he thinks he must.”
It was then that she raised her eyes and looked at the name of the author.
“Could it be that,” she said, “many have reacted to this poem because of his origin?”
By now they had walked almost ten minutes, and a whooping sound of a tree echoed from a distance. Monrovia had woken up to a breezing morning, for December was a period of strong but painful winds.
“Actuality,” Sam said, “the author creates an exaggeration, and it’s a wonder many have not considered the artistry nature of his poem, rather describing it as insensitive, an attempt to hurt those who believe in Jesus.”
“I can identify with that,” she said, “for in these days after the war, it appears that there are people who have made themselves authority on what one should write.”
“I cannot imagine any anger from those who have been crying out against his poem,” Sam said, “but assuming that they know Christ…” A sound interrupted him, and Sam found himself holding on to the young woman, as they walked sideways away from a huge truck of UN officers.
2
Sam knew the anger of those who had allowed religious intolerance to consume them. Such people had lost all traces of the essential quality of tolerance. There were stories, one in particular, where a fatwa, a religious edit was pronounced on the head of an author for writing what was described as blasphemous against a religion, and the author had to live in hiding for many years.
There was another story he had been aware of when a filmmaker was butchered to death for what was described as his insults to a particular religion. But all those were on the extreme, where individuals constituted themselves as judges for the divine.
But in the current case, the author made an exaggeration comparison on bygone events in Liberia, and many of his Christian countrymen felt offended.
What many of those who did not think there was anything to be angered about said the real issue was not considered, and that was not fair to the writer. It was apparent that like the examples above, those angered by the poem constituted themselves as judges for the Lord Jesus Christ, when the Lord did not need any human organization to do that.
And that was the understanding that became the focus of attention a day after Sam had engaged Ms. Wilson in a friendly discussion on the matter.
On the third day, Sam encountered Ms. Wilson at a friend’s party, and the author’s poem was the talk at the gathering, as both enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere, at the Gardnersville residence where the party was held.
“Did you read it?” said Martie Brown, twenty four, holding a piece of paper in his hands, “it was like waow, how he could do that?”
‘Were you offended?” Sam asked, “he did not really mean it?”
“He did not mean what?”
“You know,” Sam said, “as the poem said, it is not true that Jesus died in Liberia.”
“I know that.”
“So then,” Sam said, “why are you not happy about the poem?”
“Isn’t the writer a Muslim?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Why he did not write about his prophet, Mohammed?”
“Is that why you are not happy about it?”
“Yeah.”
“How are you not happy?”
“Because the writer doesn’t believe in Jesus the way we do.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “so then what?”
“I think,” Brown said, “he had some agenda.”
“Do you know it?”
“Well,” she said, “I think he wants people to believe that …Oh, I don’t know.”
Sam regarded her for a while and said, “So because he is a Muslim therefore what he wrote made you unhappy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Brown did not provide the answer, and after sometime said, “I think the whole thing is just stupid, why am I getting vex, that question I have not been able to answer it.”
Sam said, “I think all those who are unhappy about Konneh’s poem are behaving like those Muslim fanatics that we are aware of.”
She said, “Hmmm!!!”
Sam said, “For a fact, Christians are supposed to tolerate others, and even pray for those who hate them, the Bible says that, right?”
“I know,” she said, “but…”
“But what?”
“The Bible is hard to understand.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she said, “because someone wrote something and mentioned Jesus’ name and here some of us pretending we are righteous enough to condemn him.”
“The point is clear,” Sam said, “why should Christians do, in such a situation?”
She said, “I think we should not be like those who insult or threaten other’s life because something is said or written about Jesus.”
Sam said, “That’s nice of you.”
“If you know Jesus,” she said, “you will love all people and never be angry with someone who might have said something against Him.”
Sam said, “But the poem deals with issues in and about Liberia.”
She turned to look at him, turning the paper in her hand around.
“Look here,” she said, “I like this part.”
Sam said, “What part?”
She pointed her finger, and said: “Here.”
From Konneh’s Poem
One side demanded: Change Now! Change Now! Change Now!
The other side reacted: No Change! No Change! No Change!
and they couldn’t find the middle ground
that was necessary to save the day.
Who tells you that Jesus died 2000 years ago?
No, Jesus did not die over there,
he died on April 12, 1980
in Liberia.
She said, “This is about the time the politicians were preparing to turn things in liberia upside down.”
“Yeah,” he said, “what about the using of Jesus…”
“Oh,” she interrupted him, “that’s the part I like.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “what you think of the writer of the poem?”
“I think,” she said, “he is a genius and he deserves support and not any form of condemnation.”
“That is,” Sam said, “if you know Jesus…”
“Yeah,” she said, “it is good to know the real Jesus, and not on superficial basis, as those claiming to defend him are doing.”
“Your judgment is hard,” Sam said, “don’t you think so?
“No,” she said, “because I know the real Jesus, who said we must love because He loves us.”
The party was about to begin, and there were people moving about. There was also an announcement from a young woman, whose brother was celebrating his return from the United States. Music came to life and drinks were being served.
Sam admired Ms. Brown’s understanding of the poems, and believed that if many of those who had shown their unwillingness to accept the author’s explanation could just imagine themselves as real Christians, they could be more tolerant on the views of a writer, whose interest was bring a situation to light.
“Can we dance?”
“Yes,” Sam said, holding on to Ms. Brown’s hand, as they moved away to join the crowd.
|