Between work and attending to my children, coupled with some level of community services, I am finding it now very difficult to endure the watching of any movie that goes beyond thirty minutes. My 10 years old son Anthony usually brings his mouth closed to my ear and say secretly, “daddy you are snoring “which is the sign of telling me that I need to go to bed. But while watching the one-hour video of President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf’s visit to Barkiedu, nature itself was on my side by assisting me defied sleep to the end of the entire disc.

Viewing a familiar territory on video/disc, especially when one shall have spent over twenty-five years without visiting such a dear place can indeed be exciting. And so it was when I hit the play button of my DVD player and saw the commentator Tobey standing right at Wenzier River, the last river you cross before getting to Barkiedu, pointing his microphone to elder Sekou Jawateh, asking him of his feelings about the president’s visit.

I began to realized that sleep had no space between me and the content of this historic disc that I was about to watch. In a minute I quickly adjusted my spectacle and rested my back in the chair and set for the dream journey that I was set to take in our district.

Elder Sekou Jawateh, whom I have not seen for over twenty-five years has now turn a bearded man, but by listening to him narrate, and after doing some quick puzzle, I could excitingly connect the dots to save the time. Elder Jawateh by gene is a descendant of the late Alihaj Fomba Jawateh who spoke on behalf of passed chiefs of the town. And so, it therefore took no time in recognizing the voice of the son that took over from him. 

As the commentator walked towards town, I started quizzing my self as to identifying   faces and localities I was watching. It didn’t take too long when he joined the procession that was marked by the dancing of the social trademark of the chiefdom called the “dulleh”. Hearing the sound of the “dulleh” I didn’t have to be told that indeed the man beating it was my long time, then chiefdom-wide celebrity friend, called Mulay.

Mulay became the bridge between the eras of the traditional usage of that drum from the secret “Korma society” to a much more moderate social one. It took me a heck of a time to identify others faces, but as time went bye, and after taking a dream trip of the 80s, I managed to snap my fingers and said, “Yes! That is Musa Kamara” “Oh! The one dancing there is Brother Beyan Konneh.” And the finger pointing went on and on as I kept adjusting my already dull glasses.

For some of you who might not know, my late father Tellah Filay Kanneh was the nephew of the Kamaras who were the custodian of the Kormah secret society. When the Islamic religion became wild spread in the entire Chiefdom at the time, the drum changed hand over to the nephews and took another important role as an instrument for other cultural festivities. My father, who was one of the prominent nephews along with others, took over the custodianship of the use of the drum. As a child then, whenever I heard the sound of that drum I would rush to see them singing and dancing. I therefore beg your indulgence not to laugh when I tell you that my feet were itching  to dance when I saw (Click picture above to view photos) elder Beyan Konneh ( the brother of my friend and brother Anthony Kesselly) dancing to its rhythm.

The camera person took us to another familiar group dancing and singing to another set of drums called the Geedeh” This drum is usually seen during religious festivities, but this time it served in both capacities, the religious and social ones. The group appeared in front of the door that was hosting the Chairman of the Mandingo Caucus, Mr. Musa Bility and Justice Kabineh Jan’eh. In the mix of thunderous applauds the two honorable men began joyously dancing to the rhythm of the voices of the youthful fellow leading the procession.

In that vicinity I could see the beautiful Barkiedu Mosque that I can never forget even in another thirty years. Regrettably enough, its confines now contains the remains of over three hundred people that were massacred on July 12, 1990 by the notorious forces of the NPFL.

As time came near for the president’s arrival, I had forgotten that the entire festival was organized to welcome her and I was relaxing in the dreams of yesteryears picturing myself in Barkiedu in one of those memorable Ramadan years. Not until the presidential motorcade started arriving and the cameraperson had to divert his attention to that focus point before I could do what the Liberian man calls “come to myself.”

Unfortunately, the president arrived in the town close to 6:00 o’clock pm, making it impossible for the cameral to go further than it could do. As the president and her entourage headed to the specially built palm leafs hut, closed to my father’s house, I could see the joy in the faces of all of the intellectual Mandingos expressing their belongingness to the tribe. If I attempt to name the dignitaries, especially those of our tribe I might be held in contempt for leaving some out. However, I assure you that most of our Mandingo dignitaries, both the ones serving in the government and the ones not serving were in full attendant.

I admonish you therefore, to grab a copy of the disc and join me in taking a dream trip to the pure Mandingo tradition.

Don’t ask me where it can be found, the Honorable Vice President of QGMA, Mr. Janga Kanneh contracted my service to reproduce the disc. I am sure he along with the public relation expect Sidiki Trawally will tell you how to get a copy. By the way I took a chance of repeating the disc, but by the time my son would leave the bathroom to replay the disc because of the dullness of my glasses, I was in another land. And he said as usual “Daddy, don’t you think is time to go in your room?”

“That my boy” I intimated to him and took off for my room.