A boy's lifelong beliefs come under severe attack from a seemingly nobody

I cannot say things were not going well. Life had become hugely, relatively better. Soldiers from neighboring West African countries had landed a couple of months ago and pushed away those lawless, brutal rebels. I dare not call them rebels back then though, rather by their preferred name, ‘freedom fighters.’ Indeed freedom fighters they were because they had freedom to harass and kill anyone at anytime without even thinking of any form of impunity. No wonder everyone was glad when they were driven away by ECOMOG. The sounds of guns and artilleries grew fainter by day indicating the speed with which the war was going further and further away. Even better was the commencement of distribution of food ration by the UN, MSF and other humanitarian organizations. But what seemed best to the very religious inhabitants of the quiet, sparsely populated settlement of Clay Ashland was the resumption of regular Sunday worship services.

Situated deep in between noisy Monrovia and somewhat traditional and Islamic Bomi county, Clay Ashlanders were taught to seek God’s kingdom first but apparently not his righteousness. Descendants of former slaves who had left America and founded Liberia in the 1800s, the Americo-Liberians, some of who had settled in Clay Ashland, had probably envied their slave masters. They too acquired slaves from the hinterland, the children of Aborigines. However, unlike their masters in America, they did not buy their slaves with salt, clothes and other imported goods, but with promises to the parents of the children that they were taking them to schools. But very few of the children received very little of the promised education and almost all of them were victims of very hard work and regular beatings from both their slave masters and their children.

Fortunately for me, I was born to settler parents, which exempted me from these cruel treatments. And though I did not inflict such treatments upon the natives, I thought nothing wrong with it, until I met Boy.

Boy, an unusual name possessed by the unusual fellow who entered the church that Sunday morning and greatly angered the usher Irene. My buddy Freddie and I saw it all happened. We both sang in the choir therefore we shared the rostrum with the clergy and sat facing the entrance. He entered, not dressed in the usual shirt, necktie and/or coat. Instead he wore a faded black Chicago Bull T-shirt, blue jeans and sandals. Worst of all he wore a hat, which he did not take off upon entering the church. He sat in the back, leaving a good number of empty benches between him and the rest of the congregation.

Marie, the ever pleasant usher went over to him with her usual smile and urged him to move on further and join the rest of the worshipers, but he smiled back with a wave of his hand indicating that it was okay. After a few minutes Irene walked to him with her usual frown and told him to unhat at the same time using sigh language just in case he did not understand English. His response was the exact duplicate of the one given to Marie. Irene looked at him in full disgust and was at the verge or lashing out. However, not wanting to contaminate the serenity in the atmosphere, she walked away steaming with suppressed anger.

When first time visitors were asked to stand and introduce themselves, he declined to do it. Marie once more received the same smile and wave when she showed him the offering plate.

While we were chanting the three fold Amen after the benediction he sneaked out. Freddie, head of evangelism and I president of the young adult department were not going to allow a prospective member to go like that. Before the “n” sound from the last “Amen” could finish, we were moving down the aisle.

We caught up with him outside and Freddie spoke first. “Hey man what’s up?” He stopped and looked at us.

“Yeah, how you doing?” His voice was calm.

“Well he speaks English,” I thought and then said “Yeah we’re okay. I’m Rolland Washington and this is my friend Frederick Johnson.”

“You can call me Freddie. And what’s your name?”

He took at most five seconds to regard both of us and said, “Boy,”

“That’s B-O-Y-E huh?” ask Freddie.

“No, B-O-Y.”

I chuckled and said, “Man what a name Boy.

He did not laugh. I thought he was offended and was about to apologize when Irene appeared and added oil to the flame.

“Look you country boy” she said. “Where you come from if you can wear hat under roof, we don’t do that here, okay?” she stood and waited for a respond. How can a woman called Irene be so belligerent?

Boy had a crooked smile on his face. After a pause he said “Okay, I’m sorry.” That was not what Irene had expected. With nothing more to say, she walked away.

Freddie broke the silence. “So you are Boy, well Boy who?”

“Just Boy”

“He means your surname, your family’s name,” I explained.

The mischievous smile was back and I did not know why I began to feel uncomfortable with it.

“I know what you mean.” He said calmly, my name is Boy.”

“Hey man, you must have a last name, everyone should have a last name,” Freddie said, a bit impatient

“Says who?” Boy asked.

“Well, it’s usual man.” Freddie lashed out.

“Always expect the unusual.” Boy said calmly.

I thought it wise to put an end to this impending argument. “Alright, that’s not important now …” I started to say but was interrupted by Freddie who it seemed now wanted a confrontation.

“Why did you not take off your hat?”

“Why should I?”

“Because it is decent and civilized.”

Boy laughed a low laugh with his mouth closed. “Decent, civilized, what makes it decent? What makes it civilized? Because everyone does it so it’s decent right. Do you at anytime sit to think why an act is labeled indecent? Do you know the origin of certain habits and behaviors you call decent? Why must I unhat? What harm is done when I keep my hat on under roof? Who am I hurting when I say I have no surname? However when I take a little child from the interior, away from his parents and make him a slave, it is quite decent because everyone around me is doing it. Now I see; so something is called decent based on the fact that it is popular not that it is evil.

I was dumb stricken. Was this reality laid bare? Why haven’t we seen it long since?

Freddie however was not willing to succumb to the truth. He preferred backing off.

“Hey Rolland, let’s get going. I ain’t wanna hear no more or his nonsense,” he said.

But the nonsense had already captured my interest. “Go on, I’m right behind you.”

“Say what? I said let’s get going,” Freddie shouted.

“And I said I’m not coming now, unless you’re willing to wait on me,” I shouted back.

Freddie stamped off in a rage. I usually get scared when Freddie gets mad at me, but for now, curiosity had outweighed fear. Who was this shabbily dressed fellow talking this way?

“You may as well follow your friend.” Boy said. “You wouldn’t like to spoil your long standing friendship because of someone you do not even know.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

He did not answer the question. “Meet me by the river tomorrow at 6pm. I’ll be at the old wharf.”

I nodded my consent and we parted.

As I neared home, I started to panic. What if Freddie had told my mother what had happened? But panic soon turned to anger as howls of pain fell on my ears. Jacob, as usual, was being caned by my mother and undoubtedly for little or no reason. I entered and what I saw was usual but what I felt was unusual (thanks to Boy’s short oration). My mother was towering over the unfortunate lad raining down terrorist blows and he dared not move away but could only shield his face and cry out repeatedly, “I beg you I won’t it again.”

I was so angry that I did something I have never done before. I ran between the aggressor and the victim, and because my intervention was unannounced and unexpected I became a casualty. I was hit on the arm and man did it hurt. So this was the severity of the pain Jacob received almost daily.

Mother could not believe her eyes. I was not sure if she was angry or sorry for hitting her beloved son.

“Rolland, what in the world are you doing?” Her eyes were wide opened.

“What did he do mommy?” I asked rubbing my aching arm.

“And since when did you start asking me that?”

Now I was sure she was angry and I lost whatever little courage I had. “Um … he was disturbing the neighborhood that’s all.”

“So you were shouting that loud,” she said to Jacob as if she did not know it. And she once more raised the cane for another of those blows. Although I pitied the kid, I was not willing to receive another strike. I quickly stepped aside, leaving him vulnerable. Then from my safe position I made my appeal.

“Let it be now mommy what did he really do?”

“This silly thing,” she said pointing the cane at Jacob, who once more shielded his face, “left the fire in the iron.”

“He did what?” I asked. “No he didn’t, I did.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, softening a little.

“When he was ironing my shirt I told him not to empty the coals when he’s finished because I wanted to dry my handkerchief. It was late when I got through and so I rushed off to service.” I narrated rapidly and then said to Jacob. “Hey, why didn’t you tell her?”

He only looked at me, rubbing his body and sobbing. He had never looked more pitiful.

Mother threw the cane at him and said, “How stupid of you? Why didn’t you say so? Go keep your cane and start scrubbing the floor.” I was beginning to agree with Boy.

The next day, while on my way to meet Boy, I encountered Freddie.

“What’s up man,” I greeted. Where’re you headed?”

“I’m cool bro, just taking a stroll,” he said, not stopping to shake hands. However, the reduction in his velocity was clearly seen. I knew straight away he had really missed my companionship over the hours.

“C’mon, slow down, why the hurry?” I called out after him. It was evident he had been craving the call because he stopped immediately.

“Not really a hurry but I believe you have no more interest in me so why not I just pass on?” he said, turning his mouth upside down and shrugging.

“Of course not,” I said. “What makes you say such? It is just that I was um … amused at what he was saying and I …”

“Look here Rolland,” interrupted Freddie, the interrupter, moving closer wrinkling his brows and reducing his voice to a hiss, “what does that heathen has to offer? What does he know?”

I regarded him for a while and then said, “Freddie, we must get rid of our superior attitude and …”

“Ain’t no superior attitude business. It’s clear that the feller is below our standard can’t you see? He’s just a country boy. Listen Rolland...”

Now it was my time to interrupt “No you listen, Mr. Frederick Johnson. I don’t wanna know if he’s beneath or above me. One thing I do know, what he said makes a lot of sense, whether you’re willing to accept it or not. And by the way, I’m on my way to meet him, and I’m getting late so won’t you mind continuing your stroll?” I did not wait for his response.

I met Boy sitting on the dilapidated wharf staring at the river.

“Am I late?” I asked

“It’s okay,” he said without looking up. I sat beside him.

“Looking at the fishes?” I inquired.

“Not really” he said sounding somehow wise. “Just looking at the path to my new beginning.”

“Now what does that mean?” I asked with a chuckle.

He heaved a somewhat pleasant sigh and looked at the sky smiling. “Tomorrow a boat is gonna pass this way,” he said. “I’m gonna hop in and it’s gonna take me to town. And then I’m on my way to the port where I’m gonna board a vessel headed for Nigeria.”

“What? Who do you know in Nigeria?”

“No one,”

“But … then who’s taking you there?”

“You know sergeant Chukwu I guess, that Nigerian soldier at the check point down the road?”

I nodded.

“Well, he’s my good friend and he’ll be sending some things back home. I told him I wanted to go to Nigeria and he talked to the captain of the vessel and the captain agreed to take me.”

“But I don’t understand. You don’t know a soul in Nigeria. How are you gonna make it,” I asked with concern.

“There is nowhere you’ll go that people won’t be good to you,” Boy replied.

There was silence as I looked at him. The look he wore on his face was nothing short of confident assurance. There was nothing else I could say but, “Alright, God be with you.”

He laughed his same closed mouth laugh. “I’m going alone,” he said.

“I didn’t say you were going along with someone, I only said God be with you.”

“Well Sir, who do you believe God to be, a nobody or a somebody?” He took on the same tone he had used to confront Freddie. “No doubt you believe God to be a somebody,” he went on. “Now if you say God be with me then you are saying that I’m going along with somebody, that’s why I said I’m going alone.”

What was he saying? “Boy what are you saying?” I asked. “Are you denouncing the existence of God?”

His response sure did hit me hard.

“Well, whether God exist or not,” he said without any care, “he, she or it makes no difference to me.”

“Boy,” was all I could whisper.

“Okay okay, let’s not talk about Brahma, or Vishnu, or Allah, or Zeus, or Osiris or Apollo or the rest of the millions of Gods. Let’s talk about yours. The Christian God, Jehovah. He’s all knowing, all good, all powerful and he knows the future, everything that is going to happen he knows, which means he knew that the angel Lucifer would have one day rebelled. Yet he created him. Lucifer rebels and is thrown down along with a third of the angels. Then God creates the earth. He created Adam and his wife Eve. He places them in the garden along with a tree bearing the forbidden of fruit. Once more he knows the future, which means that he knew the serpent was going to deceive Eve who in turn was going to deceive Adam, yet he plants the tree there and then he pretends when Adam hides himself and says he’s naked. ‘Who told you you’re naked? Have you eaten of the fruit I forbid you to?’ That’s what he says and pronounces curses and throws them out. According to his divine justice the curses fall on every other man, woman and snake that is born whether you would have done what your first parents did or not.”

Here Boy paused, probably to allow what he had said take effect on me. And it was really taking effect. My throat was dry. My heart was pounding in my chest and my head ached. Good thing I was not standing because my legs surely would have forsaken me. Here was this guy attacking my lifelong belief and there seemed to be absolutely no way to counter. I only closed my eyes and listened as he continued.

“Then sometime later,” Boy started again. “The all loving God sees the need to reconcile man to himself. To do this, he selects a virgin and impregnates her. She gives birth to God’s son who at the same time is God himself. God almighty walks around Palestine, healing the sick, insulting the religions leaders and showing up at numerous eating and drinking parties. He even contributes wine at one of the parties. He also prays to his other self in heaven. Eventually he is betrayed and dies a criminal’s death in order to save man from sin and death. Yet man still sins and dies. But not those who believe in Christ. As soon as their physical bodies die, their spirits ascend to heaven to be with God. Now I don’t understand, although they are already in heaven yet when the trumpet sounds on the last day, they will rise up from their graves and then be ushered into heaven. However, those who did not believe in Christ will be thrown into a lake of fire created by the all-loving God to be roasted forever. Why did the all knowing God create humans only to burn majority of ‘em? Today, we laugh at the Roman, Greek and Egyptian religions. I am wondering if tomorrow’s people will laugh at ours. Anyway as little knowing and as evil as I am, I will not even roast the men who killed my parents.”

Here was my opportunity to alter the subject

“Your parents were killed?” I asked

“Yeah right before my eyes. When I was born my parents named me Nyema; Nyema Freeman. I grew up in the AG church where my mother was a deaconess and my father an evangelist. I sang in the choir just like you. I was made to believe that everything we had was provided by God. We served him so faithfully.

“Then the war came and we had to leave where we were. On our way the rebels called my father from the queue and he was accused of being a Government official because he was fat. My father pleaded with them saying, he was only a church worker. My mother held my hand tight and together we called on our God to save my dear father. But God did not. As one of the young men pointed the gun at my father, my mother shouted ‘JESUS!’ The roar of the machine gun out noised her voice. My father was gunned down.”

Boy stopped. I could see him struggling to hold back tears.

He put himself together and continued. “Mother ran to her fallen husband. She bent over him and cried loudly. Then she lifted her eyes to the sky and cried out, ‘Why God, Why?’ Another of the rebels asked her if she wanted to follow her husband. She told him that God was going to reward their evil deeds. He shot her down. I walked away all alone in this world. From that time, I began to ask God why he allowed such evil to befall a family that was so faithful to him. He did not answer.

“So I began to ask myself if God had really been there all along. I sat, and thought and reasoned. I investigated the Christian God, and the Muslim God and the Hindu God and the Greek and Roman Gods. And I’ve come to find that all these gods were made by man. It is highly probable that there is an intelligent mind somewhere out there or maybe right around us. But who possesses that mind we cannot say. That intelligence can never be truly understood.”

Boy continued to talk but I did not remain to hear him. I walked away without saying a word.

* * *

I cannot say things are not going well. Life has become hugely relatively better. All the rebel factions have disbanded and transformed themselves into political parties. One of them won the elections. Clay Ashland is once more a jolly, Godly township. Everyone is happy that the war has finally ended. Freddie and I are in the United Methodist University studying theology and sociology respectively. I am the lay leader of the church. My mother is so glad that I am in the “things of God.” Little does she know that there is a war raging within me. A war started since I encountered Boy seven years ago. What if all he had told me was the truth?

~END~