Johnny Dwyer writes in Foreign Policy on the questions that remain after the verdict – a must read that details Taylor’s prison break (not that outlandish from a prison that had seen several breaks prior to his), and his supposed role supplying information to the CIA (spoiler: there’s no substantiated evidence that he did), to this great anecdote from Dwyer’s conversation with Taylor’s former Defense Minister Tom Woewiyu:

“I always used to tell him this parable about when the elephant tells you to do something, you don’t look at the elephant and say ‘no.’ Because the elephant is the most powerful animal on the face of the Earth,” said Woewiyu, who now lives in Pennsylvania. “America is the elephant of the world today.” Taylor told Woewiyu he believes his unwillingness to open up offshore oil development to U.S. companies led to his prosecution, a theory one former U.S. Embassy official described to me as “a crock of shit.”

Aaron Leaf questions the myth of Charles Taylor’s enduring popularity on Africa is a Country:

When I first moved to Monrovia and had colleagues and acquaintances profess their love for Taylor I was shocked, but it eventually got boring. Taylor supporters—posturing young men not old enough to have lived through war, greying NPFL partisans grasping at faded glory, former child soldiers messed up from years of trauma and drug abuse, boys and girls named after him (Charles and Charlsetta), relatives living off the money they made during his plunderous reign—made for a rather pathetic bunch. The common denominator was a love for Taylor’s enduring charisma and a belief in an international conspiracy to deprive Liberia of its rightful leader…

So when outsiders report from media savvy pro-Taylor rallies in downtown Monrovia and mingle with the crowds of men watching the verdict from tea shops and intellectual centers— overcaffeinated men in love with their own voices—it may not be very accurate.

What about the woman selling fritters across the street, or the Krahn laborer trying to avoid walking through the rally? Or all the people in the vast suburbs surrounding Monrovia that didn’t make make the trek downtown to share their opinions?

Tamasin Ford reports from some of those pro Taylor rallies for NPR,

Before the verdict was announced, crowds bustled and debated on the streets in downtown Monrovia, Liberia’s capital. There was a strong — maybe somewhat naïve — expectation Taylor would be coming back to his homeland.

People cheered and clapped as they saw him appear on television. The man who was president from 1997 to 2003 still commands a lot of support and even adoration here. But as the verdict finally came down, the mood shifted.

The judge declared Taylor guilty of aiding and abetting the war in Sierra Leone on all 11 counts. They include arming rebel groups with guns and ammunition in exchange for diamonds, the use of child soldiers, rape, sexual slavery and acts of torture. He will not be coming back to Liberia.

“It makes me crazy because Charles Taylor had no problem with Freetown people,” says 23-year-old student Amara Sanoe.

Finlay Young discusses Taylor’s popularity as part of a system of patronage for the Daily Beast:

This “kindness” was actually an intrinsic part of Taylor’s strategy, a counterpart to his ruthlessness.  Patronage is a deeply embedded social norm in Liberia, a potent strategy in a place where so many have so little. I look after you, so you belong to me.  Academic William Reno, in his 1999 book Warlord Politics and African States, describes how Taylor ran a “shadow state” based on personal links.  Formal administrative institutions were largely impotent.  Taylor was perfectly formed for the intuitive, opportunistic life of a rebel, but not for the stolid bureaucracy of government. Paul remembers how “everything collapsed as soon as he left (for exile in 2003). Because everything was built on him.”

When researching a recent article on the post-war experience of some of these young men, I was struck by the fact that the only person who escapes blame for their present predicament is the man who bears greatest responsibility: Taylor. For many, the coming of peace signaled the permanent loss of respect. In Monrovia, they squat in the crowded spaces between lavish compounds, the towering walls of which are a reflection of the mistrust which corrodes post conflict reconciliation in Liberia.

BBC’s Robin White reflects on his six phone chats with Taylor over the years, along with some of the original audio which is definitely worth a listen:

New Year’s Days are usually a bit thin on news and much of the discussion in the Focus on Africa office on New Year’s Day 1990 was along the lines of “how on earth are we going to fill the programme?”

And then, Charles Taylor called.

Emily Schmall and Clair McDougall write about identity and Liberian history for the Daily Beast:

But Liberia’s notorious modern history—from Doe’s coup and his own torture and death at the hands of rebels; through Taylor’s presidency, his exile to Nigeria, and his war-crimes trial; and up to President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf’s reelection late last year—is conspicuously absent from the textbooks that circulate in Liberian schools. When the prewar generation, including Johnson Sirleaf, was growing up, young Liberians read the civics books of A. Doris Banks Henries, a Yale-educated Methodist missionary whose The Liberian Nation: A Short History starts in 1839, when freed American slaves sailed to Africa to bring “civilization” and Christian values to a “savage, primitive, belligerent people.”

Dan Howden reports from Taylor’s home in Monrovia, White Flower, where he spoke to Vicky Taylor:

Among the great and good who would celebrate Taylor being found guilty will be many who were once seduced by his unusual charisma. They might be embarrassed to know that their tributes, signed photographs and gifts to a guerrilla leader who terrorised and captivated Liberia still decorate White Flower, Taylor’s modernist mansion on the outskirts of the capital, Monrovia.

Six years on from his arrest it’s a mouldering heap, where his young wife Victoria and their daughter, conceived during a conjugal visit to the Netherlands, wait for him to come home.

Sitting in the courtyard with its poor copy of Rome’s Trevi Fountain and a collection of rusting sports cars, she maintains that her husband has been the victim of a deep conspiracy.

“He’s not what the international community demonised him to be,” she says of someone charged with war crimes, crimes against humanity and the recruitment of child soldiers…

“They say he stole $3bn. Where is that $3bn?” Vicky says gesturing around the decaying White Flower.

Indeed, the grand residence, built in four steps down the side of a hill in the once upscale neighbourhood of Congo Town, has seen better days. Dead birds and palm fronds compost in the drained swimming pool and stray dogs wander across the wrecked courts where tennis enthusiast Taylor used to play.

The inside has fared a little better and the chapel on the ground floor has Jewish Menorah candlesticks in homage to his new religion. The house’s bric-a-brac of politics and high living is at odds with her claim that he wants to return to Liberia to be a farmer.

The often bizarre and contradictory path of Taylor’s life is mapped out across the dusty reception room at his former residence. Kofi Annan smiles from a signed portrait stacked on the floor with similar keepsakes, a copper plaque commemorates a “peace award” given to him by the regional power bloc ECOWAS. Bearing down on the room’s white and gold French furniture is an oil painting depicting a serene Charles rising through clouds towards a smiling Christ. Among the family portraits lies a well-thumbed copy of the book Israel at 50.

 And, a shattering selection of images from Liberia’s war in the New York Times, and of today’s Sierra Leone by Finbarr O’Reilly. 

In January, I went back to the King George Home for the Elderly in Eastern Freetown, a place I’d visited in 2010 and taken many photos. It’s a strange place — it’s rare for the elderly to live in group homes in sub-Saharan Africa, but most of the people at King George’s lost their children during Sierra Leone’s civil war. There’s a word for children who lose their parents — orphans — but no word for parents who lose their children. King George’s is, in some senses, a place of deep sadness and isolation. And yet, it’s also a place where people have made friends, cut each others hair, and spend the day chatting and listening to the radio.

To see photos from my previous trip, check this out, or visit the whole series on my homepage.

screen Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

It was so wonderful to be back – I was greeted with such warmth and kindness, hugs and laughs. The article in BBC’s Focus on Africa had made it to Freetown and the residents, for once, didn’t feel ignored.

kinggeorge01 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Like many unfortunate Sierra Leoneans, Fatu Sesay Maya lost both of her hands during the civil war to fighters who asked victims if they wanted “long sleeves” or “short sleeves.” She speaks no English or Krio, a language common in the capital and elsewhere, but still spends her days saying “Hawa, hawa,” meaning yes, yes, in Limba, a language from Northern Sierra Leone. Despite her disability, she is still relatively self-sufficient.

kinggeorge02 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Prince Jarret, 80, shaves his friend Daniel Koroma’s head on a sunny morning in February. Though both men lost their children and their families during the war and were alone and rejected by their communities, they’ve found each other at King George’s.

kinggeorge03 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Charles Doe rests quietly one afternoon. He spends most days playing his guitar and harmonica, alone in the corner where he lives and listens to the radio. “It is my best friend,” he says of the guitar. “It can’t lie.” He once dreamed of being a musician.  During the war, all of his children died and he lost track of his other relatives. King George’s has been his only home for the last decade.  He says he would like his guitar to decorate his coffin.

kinggeorge04 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Onike Williams, 71, has lived at the King George home for more than fifteen years. Her family, who tolerated her speech impediment before the war, abandoned her as soon as they could. She never had any children, and mutters that people say, “I an ugly woman-o.” Despite what others may think, Onike smiles all the time and is quick to laugh.

kinggeorge05 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Thomas Daniels is younger and more able than many of the residents at the King George home, but he is no less alone. He was working for an iron ore company in Liberia when war broke out in there and in Sierra Leone and he was never again able to locate his wife or children. He assumes they died in the war.

kinggeorge06 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Daniel Williams lost his family and his vision during Sierra Leone’s civil war. He plays harmonic, recorder, and he sings. His best friend lives in the bed next to him, and is also named Daniel.

kinggeorge07 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

“In the name of the Lord I greet you! I am the most stupid fool in the world!” is the way Egbert E. Emens greets most people, most days. He lost his wife and several children during the war. His son put him at King George’s because he could not care for Egbert while he was working during the day, and Egbert had been wandering off and exposing himself to children in the neighborhood. There’s a huge range of mental and physical capacity among the residents at King George’s.

kinggeorge08 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Remie Edwards sits outside on the porch of her building one afternoon. On some days, she is talkative and friendly, offering blessings and laughing with the other residents. On other days, she is combative and quiet and prefers to be left alone.

kinggeorge10 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

Mamie Ballay was once a beauty — and she still is. She goes to great lengths to keep up her apperance at King George’s, getting her hair plaited regularly and asking the care takers to paint her toe nails. She didn’t like the first photo I took of her because her dress was red, and she said she looks better in pink. I think she looks nice in both.

kinggeorge11 Aging Alone: King George's Home for the Elderly in Freetown

fullframe King George's Home for the Elderly, redux

Something amazing has happened: as a result of a story I’ve worked on, there are now people out there in the world who know about a modest group home for the elderly in east Freetown. Some of the images I snapped there last July and August have been published on BBC’s website, in their Focus on Africa magazine, mentioned on the HelpAge blog, and one will be part of a group show at PowerHouse Arena, a gallery in Brooklyn.

P1000008AA King George's Home for the Elderly, redux

I’ve received an outpouring of emails about the residents of King George’s home. An outpouring in really only about a dozen emails, but still, that’s a lot. People want to help. They want to give money and other kinds of donations.

But here’s the thing: I don’t know how to use this good will effectively. King George’s doesn’t even really have an address, let alone an international bank account to which people could transfer funds.

So far, I’ve been directing people to HelpAge. But it does seem that if people want to give to King George’s, they should be able to. When I’m back in Sierra Leone next month, I’ll speak with the director about how to make this process a possibility.

But even then, I question how it will work. I don’t know how to see that the money benefits the residents. I’m not an aid worker, nor am I prepared to take on that kind of role.

I’m thrilled that people who see these images might care a bit about some old folks in Sierra Leone they’ve never met. I mean, that’s the point, right? But while this might have “raised awareness”, I’m not sure that anyone’s life at King George will be significantly different because of these images.

Maybe that’s enough for now.

Salone007 King George's Home for the Elderly, redux

Lucy Elizabeth Dacowah, aka Reverend Lucy, dressed up to go into town on the day of this portrait. She wore a necklace that said “Jennifer.” When I asked her why she was wearing a necklace that said Jennifer when her name was Lucy, she replied, “What’s a Jennifer?”

For the past couple of months I’ve been in the USA, and thanks to the wonders of fast interent, a bit of distance and time for thinking, as well as a great editor, I’ve given my portfolio site an overhaul. Here are some highlights, and I hope you’ll head over there and take a look.

 

Aging Alone


KGSalone 002 Portfolio Updates

KGSalone 004 Portfolio Updates

KGSalone 006 Portfolio Updates

KGSalone 007 Portfolio Updates

KGSalone 016 Portfolio Updates

KGSalone 021 Portfolio Updates

 

 

Harper

Haper001 Portfolio Updates

Haper002 Portfolio Updates

Haper008 Portfolio Updates

Haper010 Portfolio Updates

Haper012 Portfolio Updates

Haper014 Portfolio Updates

Haper018 Portfolio Updates

Harper003 Portfolio Updates

 

 

Secret Lives of Uganda’s Gay Community

Gay013 Portfolio Updates

Gay007 Portfolio Updates

Gay008 Portfolio Updates

Gay009 Portfolio Updates

Gay003bA Portfolio Updates

 

 

Liberia’s Amputee Soccer Team

amputee001 Portfolio Updates

amputee003 Portfolio Updates

amputee002b Portfolio Updates

amputee005 Portfolio Updates

amputee007 Portfolio Updates

amputee012 Portfolio Updates

 

Delicate Balance: A Rainforest Threatened

07 GG 100420 458 Portfolio Updates

 

Miss Liberia 2009

misslib013 Portfolio Updates

 

Baby Borning Business

01 IMG 63871 Portfolio Updates

 

Diplomatic

IMG 0854 Portfolio Updates

 

Hybrid Agriculture in Ghana

ghana012 Portfolio Updates

 

Organic Coffee Farming

IMG 4392 Portfolio Updates

 

No Space for Learning

schools 005 Portfolio Updates

 

Women’s Sewing Project

sewing002 Portfolio Updates

 

Singles

singles003A Portfolio Updates

singles009 Portfolio Updates

IMG 7690 Portfolio Updates

100908Unicef 0890 Portfolio Updates

singles012 Portfolio Updates

singles013 Portfolio Updates

singles001 Portfolio Updates

For the second time in my career, I have found out that someone I photographed has died. I don’t always get to find out what happens to people further down the line, and it’s an unfortunate reality that it’s likely others have passed away as well. But this is the second specific instance where I’ve known for certain that someone is gone.

Earlier this year, I spent quite a bit of time at the King George Home for the Elderly in Freetown, Sierra Leone, working on a portrait project. A couple of days ago, a colleague headed over to there to collect a couple of pieces of information for me since some of these images will be pubslished soon. She reported back to me that Santigi Sesay had passed away. After I got the news, I stared at his photo for awhile. Santigi wasn’t particularly talkative or friendly when I was there. He just sat in his chair, smoking cigarettes and staring out the window. But I loved this photo of him. It captured his not-particularly-friendly self, somehow, and speaks to the idea of isolation even within a group.

I’ll be back in Sierra Leone at King George’s early next year, but Santigi won’t be there. I wonder if someone else will be in his spot, or if it will remain empty. I wonder about his family, and his friends at King George’s. I printed photos for many of the residents, including him, and I wonder what he did with the photo.

It’s likely that this is the last photo of Santigi. It feels so surreal that he’s gone, but that a piece of him is still alive and present here.

Gordon007A He's gone.

All of Mohamed’s friends knew what sort of mother he had. If you called looking for him and she didn’t already know you, she would pepper you with questions: What’s your name? Who are your parents? How do you know my son? If she thought you were a positive influence, she’d invite you over all the time. She’d ask about your family, your after-school job. And, of course, she’d always feed you. Sometimes there would be so many boys over she’d hand them each a bowl of food, then send them into the hall to eat since there were too many to squeeze into the living room.

That’s a touching passage from  Jennifer Gonnerman‘s piece Machete in New York magazine. Gonnerman’s sparse prose tells the tragic narrative of a young man who escaped civil war in Sierra Leone only to become victim to crimes just as brutal in the Bronx. Kudos to New York magazine for giving Gonnerman’s piece the breathing space it needs. It’s definitely worth a read, and the comments at the end of the story from people who were clearly friends of Mohamed are very moving.

 above market price: photo of the day

From a market in eastern Freetown.

BBC NEWS Special Reports Audio slideshow Making music in Freetown 20090813 BBC: Making Music in FreetownCheck out this audioslide show I did on BBC.

 photo of the day: one left shoe and so many rights

 Salone nights and lights

 Salone nights and lights

 Salone nights and lights

 Salone nights and lights