Literary Thoughts
With Saah Millimono
Gold or No Gold
When the elders and youth leaders, including a group of townspeople, appeared at his home early one morning, Chief Zawolo knew already why they had come: to get him to sign a mining contract with Asian Ventures. Asian Ventures was a company which was looking to mine gold in the forestland Chief Zawolo had inherited from his father. But just as he knew the purpose of this visit, he had his answer awaiting the elders, youth leaders, and townspeople.
Entering the chief’s yard, the elders, youth leaders, and all the people with them, sat down on benches under the kola tree at the edge of the yard were meetings, such as the one that was about to take place, were discussed. Chief Zawolo also seated himself in the big ornate chair, made of kpokolo cut out of his forest, and which his wife, Kpanah, had brought outside for him. Since there were not enough seats for everybody, others could do nothing but stand, as the meeting, which the town-crier had announced the day before, unfolded.
The chief’s cousin, Kollie, after the customary greetings were exchanged, rose and said:
“Chief Zawolo, a mining company called Asian Ventures, as you may know already, is looking to mine gold in the rivers and streams of the forest nearby and which you own. However, since you’ve been kind enough to allow our people to farm there – and I must say we are grateful – we thought you would be still kinder to us by having this company invest in the forest. We don’t have enough hand pumps, lack enough farm-to-market roads, and may need a clinic and a few more schools. But this would be a big opportunity to develop our district, and we would be grateful if you would sign the contract with Asian Ventures.”
When the chief’s cousin had spoken and sat down, a small, fair-complexioned man, who it was said had been sent by the company and who was dressed in a suit and tie and carrying a briefcase, rose from his place on one of the benches and tried to speak. But the chief cut him short and said:
“Gold or no gold, nobody, except over my dead body, will be allowed to touch that forest. I therefore will not, I repeat, will not, engage any further in this meeting. I urge each of you, including this man from the company, to get out of my yard at once. “
The chief rose and went into his house and closed the door behind him. His wife, Kpana, took the chair and went away with it.
Immediately the people started to grumble among themselves, and an argument ensued. But, seeing that they could not sign the contract themselves, they turned and left.
When they had left, Chief Zawolo returned to the yard and, this time, sat on one of the benches under the kola tree. From the edge of the yard and crossing to the east, the west, the north and the south and as far as possible, he could see his forest not far from where he sat. It was a big forest. He had inherited it from his father, who in turn had inherited it from his father. The lineage in fact could be traced as far as he could remember. During the years and to build a sense of togetherness within the district, he would give away a few acres of the forest to anyone looking to farm or temporarily settle there. But many of the people did not have money to build their own houses, and Chief Zawolo, seeing the situation they were in, would either sell land to them very cheaply or give it away for free. But the people had shown him no gratitude. Some had secretly sold away portions of his land. Others had threatened his life and taken him to court where they had paid substantial bribes to obtain part of his forestland for free. All this had left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was not that he was selfish, as everyone knew he was not. What he hated were people trying to steal from him and to stop at nothing to achieve this. Also, part of the forest were being used to host the Poro and Sande societies, which had since been abolished by the government. But he suspected they had done so for donor money, and not that they really cared about abolishing primitive customs, which they claimed were harmful and unhealthy. Another part of the forest was also being used as a burial site for his father and many others from his clan and was considered sacred. It would be complete disrespect to the people buried there as well as a total tragedy, if caterpillars, dredging machines, and the hordes of lawful as well as unlawful gold miners he was sure would soon show up, descended on the forest, like locust. They had done it in several places, and with terrifying result: rivers and creeks had become polluted, cemeteries and roads destroyed, and the people could no longer get clean and safe drinking water, nor could they fish in the rivers because they had become toxic, like snakes. Also, in places where he heard gold and other natural resources were being mined, people had started prostitution rings and drug dealing and all sorts of crimes that had made the towns and villages a veritable nightmare. As for the government, they were more concerned about signing contracts with the foreign companies, such as the one he had heard of, and did not really care what happened afterwards. As a result, these companies had done little or nothing for the communities and the people whose lives they said would improve, building schools and clinics and providing roads and bridges. Because once the contract was signed, they felt no obligation to anybody and consequently ran amok, exploiting the people more than they did the minerals they were looking for. And how could anybody be sure that Asian Ventures, the mining company of which he had heard, would follow the contract to the letter? Of course they won’t, Chief Zawolo said to himself. They’re thieves masquerading as foreign investors, and only looking to exploit the land at the detriment of the people and with the help of the government. That forest will remain as it is. I dare anyone, who calls himself man or woman, to lay a hand on it. If they lack dignity and care about nothing but money, I am ready to show them that I’ve my pride and dignity quite intact.
The chief was still thinking about one thing and another when his wife, Kpanah, brought his food where he was sitting under the kola tree. Kpanah was slim and tall, dark-complexioned, and had an oval face which, though lined with furrows, was still a testament to the beautiful woman that she had once been. She wore a head-tie and a long dress that nearly covered her feet. Round the wrist of her right arm were colorful bangles she had bought at different times and during some of the many itineraries she would take to Monrovia to meet relatives or when she and Chief Zawolo visited there, to attend court cases about their forestland. She saw that the boss was troubled, refused to eat the food that had been brought for him.
“That meeting must have left you very upset,” she said. “Now you don’t even want to eat,” she added, sitting by the chief on the bench.
“Of course,” said Chief Zawolo. “I’m tired of all that I’ve had to go through because of that forest. But I’ve no desire to give it away to this company I’ve heard of. They sign contracts with people, and the next thing you know is that they wouldn’t do as promised. Also, we use the forest for many things, including as a burial site. If the company were to take over the forest, everything would be destroyed.”
“It worries me, too,” said Kpanah. “In parts of the country were they’ve mining companies those places have become no good.”
“That’s just what I’ve been thinking. Besides the dredging machines and caterpillars, illegal miners will surely come. We will have criminals and drug dealers crawling all over the place. So that it won’t be safe to leave your mortar and pestle outside lest they get stolen.”
“Yes,” his wife said, shaking her head. “Those places where they have gold miners have become a nightmare. It’s a fact that some people don’t just go there to work in the mines but to engage in prostitution and sell drugs. Now our schools, towns and villages are all full of youngsters who have become drug addicts and thieves.”
“It’s sad,” said Chief Zawolo. “The thieves might even go into the graveyard and steal the steel rods they’re made of and sell them for drugs, like they do in Monrovia where all the graves have been broken into and robbed.”
“It’s a scandal that has become very common in this country,” said Kpana.
The sun had come up but had still to become hot, like it does on an afternoon during the dry season. The air was as warm as Chief Zawolo felt his own body to be. From far and near came the sound of birds chirping in the many palm trees that stood about the town and in the forest beyond the chief’s house, amidst the scattered voices of townspeople moving from one end of the town and another.
“I saw your cousin, Kollie, speaking on behalf of the people,” Kpanah said, after a pause.
“Kollie has become a sort of spokesman for them, I think,” Chief Zawolo said.
“It seems to me he’s up to no good. In fact, as soon as you left and the people started to grumble among themselves, it was Kollie who seemed to grumble the most. No doubt he could try to incite the people against you.”
“Kollie thinks that because he’s a relative of mine, he ought to lay claim to the forest too and seems to resent the fact that I own it.”
“And now that the people have heard about this company and think that it’s really going to develop the district, you can see how they are going to be led easily astray, though in fact each is really thinking about what money he would get out of it himself. They’re nothing but a bunch of fakes. When they started grumbling, I could see deceit clearly written on their faces.”
“They’re all belly-driven and don’t really care about the district.”
“Now those hypocrites are going to make a lot of trouble for us, seeing that you’ve refused to sign that contract and therefore is preventing them from acquiring money for themselves.”
“Yes.”
“So, what are we going to do now?”
“I think it would be better to go to Monrovia and see our lawyer.”
“Lawyer!”
“I know you don’t like lawyers. But-”
“Those lawyers in Monrovia, it disappoints even to hear about them. They’d take your money and do really nothing for you, save that they would tell you lies and make unnecessary delays, to get you to pay out of your nose. And how they change sides! I’m sick even to hear the word lawyer. Those people are so dishonest and untrustworthy.”
“I know. But it’s better seeing a lawyer than having to take matters into your own hands. You know we’re both too old for that.”
“Yes, of course. But where do you intend to find the money to pay this lawyer? To keep our ownership of the forest, we’ve had to go to court many times, like US President Donald Trump, and got the money by selling parcels upon parcels of our forestland. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether it would be better if we were to sell the entire forest or just give it away to this company and forget. We’ve had so much to endure for that forestland.”
“No, no, Kpanah, you mustn’t say that. Don’t say that at all. Despite all that we’ve had to go through to keep our ownership of the forest, we mustn’t lose hope. Not yet. Besides, I often feel at pain having somebody walking on my head for my own thing. So, we go to Monrovia tomorrow and see the lawyer.”
And so, they went to Monrovia and met their lawyer at the Supreme Court where he was working. The lawyer was fat and short and had a big belly, which he would try to adjust whenever he sat down. He was dressed, as all lawyers invariably are, in a suit and tie and a pair of leather shoes that shone like the eyeglasses on his clean-shaven face. Because he had a big stomach, his shirt tail was often seen as being outside, so that he was constantly having to push it into his trousers, only for it to appear outside again and again.
“Basically,” the lawyer said, after Chief Zawolo had recounted his ordeal, “your claim to the forest is legal. You had every right to sign or not to have signed that contract, especially without having consulted your lawyer first. But-”
“But what?” said Kpana, sensing the lawyer was trying to veer off the mark and go into one of the many crooked paths a lawyer uses to eat a client’s money for free.
“The government must have a say in this,” said the lawyer, “especially if some natural resource has been discovered on a particularly piece of land.”
“Nonsense,” Chief Zawolo said. “The government gets companies to invest in the land but doesn’t hold them to account. In fact, all the government seems to care about is the money got out of the contract signed, leaving poor people like my wife and myself, to endure nothing but punishment. Now all the rivers and creeks are being polluted by these foreign companies looking to mine gold and God knows what else. There’s hardly anywhere we can get safe drinking water, and we can’t eat the fish out of the rivers and creeks without getting sick.”
“Well, the law says the government must have a say,” the lawyer said, “and the law is the law.”
“And if we were to go to court, how much money would it cost us?” Kpanah asked, dreading the amount she was sure the lawyer would ask for.
But the lawyer said, “I’m not sure, because I’m busy right now. But go home, and I’ll call you later.”
And the lawyer would in fact call later. Only that the poor chief and his wife didn’t have the money to pay him. The amount he asked for was so much that anyone could see the man was looking to lick his elbow and drink more beer than his stomach could afford.
Having left the court, they next went to the Ministry of Mines and Energy. There they found a few people who had gone to make their cases and lodge complaints as theirs. They sat down on the long bench with their backs touching the wall and waited. The Assistant Minister, to whom they were going to speak, had stepped out and would be back soon, they were told. It was at the Ministry of Mines and Energy and sitting on the bench with people whose cases were like their own, that they got to hear the rumors that had already reached every ear in the country. A Chinese national called Barry, was really the boss in the business of gold and diamonds, how they were mined, and where. Barry had even once boasted that he had the entire government in his pockets, and that no one, not even the president, could do anything about it. If Barry wanted to mine gold on your land, he would mine gold there. All you could do was sign the contract he might offer and get what money you could. From there you no longer had a say since, as Chief Zawolo and his wife Kpanah were told, bigger pockets in government offices were waiting for their share. Chief Zawolo wasn’t sure whether this Barry owned Asian Ventures, but it made him feel suspicious as ever he could. The wait stretched into the afternoon and still the Assistant Minister did not show up. Exhausted, Chief Zawolo and his wife left the Ministry and went away.
The few days that followed were tense. There were protests calling for his resignation as town Chief. Some of the protests were violent; with the chief’s cousin, Kollie, at the head of the mob, stones were thrown at his house. Everywhere he and his wife went they were disparaged, harassed, and scorned. At night he would be asleep when suddenly the sound of heavy stones, thrown onto the corrugated-tin roof of his house, would be heard through the town. People would defecate in his yard. Soon his house was paid frequent visits by thieves who threatened to burn it down if he and his family did not get out of the town quick-quick.
Now, Chief Zawolo was an old man who had just turned seventy-five years of age. Even though he was resolved not to sign the contract with Asian Ventures, and despite frequent pleas from his wife Kpanah, he wanted to be left alone. To make matters worse, his two elder sons had gone away to stay in Monrovia and wouldn’t be there to protect him if the people decided to beat him. Sometimes, especially when he was alone, Chief Zawolo would suddenly break into tears that were long and hard. But the more persistent his enemies were, the more resolved he was. Gold or no gold, he would reserve the forest, if only for the good of posterity and that of the ancestors who were buried there, as well as the Poro and Sande societies which called the forest home. This filled him with pride and dignity, and he would keep it intact.
Then suddenly one morning he was awakened by heavy noise entering the town. He rushed out of his house to see what it was all about. There, even though he refused to believe it, were the caterpillars and dredging machines which he had long feared, and which had now come to prove that his forest would be ruined anyhow; and it no longer mattered whether he had signed the contract or not. Chief Zawolo let out a cry.
But forces, much larger than himself, were already at work