Liberians See Their Nation as Bit of U.S.

Solomon Davis was a freed American slave who came from Georgia. He arrived on the shores of this West African nation in the 19th century aboard a ship carrying scores of other former slaves. A chaplain, he dressed in the spiffy tailcoats and neckties typical of the antebellum South and told tales of life in pre-Civil War America.

James E. Davis brims with pride as he recounts his ancestry and the arrival of his American grandfather in Liberia. And though the memories of his late relative are fast fading, what has remained is a deep emotional connection to a land that held his forefathers in bondage, freed them, and then sent them back to Africa.

“I’ve got good feeling about America,” said Davis, 72, a retired Baptist preacher. “We believe that we are an annex of America.”

It is a sentiment shared by many Liberians, who trace their heritage to the black Americans who founded this nation more than 180 years ago. The strong sentiments also explain why so many here are looking to Washington to help end 14 years of civil war that have left their nation in chaos

Washington is still considering whether it will send soldiers here to shore up a shaky peace deal between rebels and government forces. President Bush reiterated Monday that any deployment of U.S. forces was dependent upon Liberian President Charles Taylor leaving the country.

Taylor has accepted an offer of asylum in Nigeria but says he will leave only when the peacekeepers arrive. Rebels opposed to his government have threatened to fight the peacekeepers if they arrive in Liberia prior to Taylor’s exit.

With U.S. soldiers still facing ambushes and other attacks in Iraq, there is apprehension in Washington about sending more forces into harm’s way. The U.S.’ bad experience in Somalia a decade ago has added to the hesitancy over intervening in Africa.

But Liberians -- including Taylor -- vow that U.S. soldiers would be welcome in their country. Cheering crowds have greeted a U.S. humanitarian assessment team sent to conduct surveillance ahead of any deployment of troops.

Liberians insist that the historic, economic and strategic ties with the U.S. should count for something.

American industrialist Harvey Firestone launched his rubber empire on Liberian plantations in the 1920s. During World War II, the U.S. used Monrovia’s Roberts Field airport as a base for its offensive in North Africa.

And during the Cold War, Liberia offered the U.S. a strategic outpost in Africa; a Voice of America transmitter and an Omega navigation station run by the U.S. Coast Guard were established here.

“I believe [America] has a moral obligation to help us,” said the Most Rev. Michael K. Francis, Roman Catholic archbishop of Monrovia and an outspoken critic of Taylor’s government. “We have helped the United States.”

The ultimate affront, residents say, would be if the U.S. decided not to come.

“We felt so envious when Britain and France intervened [in their former colonies of Sierra Leone and Ivory Coast], and the U.S. won’t come to us; it’s still deciding,” said J. Woiwoi Jallah, a high school principal, whose wife is a U.S. citizen. “We feel deserted.”

Exactly how many people among Liberia’s population of 3 million can trace their roots to American settlers is not clear. Intermarriage with the country’s indigenous groups means that very few can claim “pure” bloodlines to the African Americans, local historians say.

Still, that has not dampened the enthusiasm for identifying with America.

“Most people feel Liberia is part of America,” said James E.R. Townsend, whose great-great-grandfather came to Liberia with his three brothers from Norfolk, Virginia; he doesn’t know when. “We feel that we should be attached to America. We feel that we should be part of the American islands.”

Beyond blood ties, there are many quirky connections that Liberians feel bind their nation with America.

Liberia is the only country in Africa that has an electrical system compatible with that of the United States. American appliances can be plugged into the wall socket here without an adapter or electrical converter.

Many districts of the country -- such as Maryland, Virginia, New Georgia and Providence Island -- are named for U.S. states and cities. Monrovia, the capital, is named for America’s fifth president, James Monroe.

Liberians also pledge allegiance to their flag, which resembles America’s but with only one star. Many Liberians speak English with a slight Southern twang.

Much of the apparel sold from street stalls is secondhand garb from the States. The clothes are purchased for the most part with the help of remittances many here receive from relatives in America, via a perpetually jammed Western Union office in Monrovia.

The first black settlers arrived in 1820 aboard the Elizabeth, a ship Liberians fondly refer to as their Mayflower.

The migration gained momentum after the purchase from indigenous chiefs of a parcel of land that is today Monrovia, by a group called the American Colonization Society. The group aimed to provide freed slaves with opportunities while satisfying Southern plantation owners who feared the presence of too many free blacks in the South.

“Their primary objective was not to establish a colony,” said Joseph Saye Guannu, a U.S.-educated historian and political scientist. “Their objective was to prepare a receiving station for free slaves coming in and slaves captured on the high seas.”

The wave of repatriating African Americans and West Indians continued into the early 1900s, Guannu said. The exact number of immigrants to Liberia during this time is unknown, although Francis and others put the figure at 20,000.

Historians and descendants of Liberia’s indigenous peoples say many of the settlers brought with them the prejudicial attitudes and practices of America’s Old South, including conservative Christian norms, racism and segregation.

“They came with the ‘plantocratic’ [plantation] mentality, especially the mulattoes,” Guannu said. “They said, ‘Well, we are the descendants of whites. In the veins of whites runs superior blood. So we are superior to the ones who came from the cotton fields.”

Lighter-complexioned blacks quickly became Liberia’s elite and were given priority for education and jobs, Guannu said. Native people faced discrimination, and were often subjugated and forced to work in the households of settlers.

Still, many indigenous people aspired to be like Americo-Liberians to attain power and prosperity. Some dropped their African names and adopted English ones. Many indigenous families, including chiefs, willingly brought their children to live and work for Americo-Liberians so they might have a chance to be educated and acquire their ways.

“After so many centuries of separation [from Africa], there had to be a divide,” Guannu said. “In America, our brothers and sisters were brainwashed to believe that Africa was spiritually naked and culturally deprived.”

Settler descendants say their ancestors knew no better.

“These were people who didn’t know any other civilization,” Townsend said. “All they knew was that there were people to be served, and people to serve them. So when they were freed, they expected to be served.”

“A lot of people felt that the Americo-Liberians took advantage of the people that were here,” said Evelyn Diggs Townsend, a member of Liberia’s Senate, whose son and two granddaughters live in Houston. “To some extent, I would say yes. But I have many friends in the States and I always say to them, if [the settlers] had any prejudices, they got them from you. The only system they knew was the colonial system.”

Community leaders say that the relationship between indigenous people and those who claim American ancestry, though vastly improved, is still somewhat strained.

“In the past, there was a very big gap,” said Joseph J. Robert, pastor of Providence Baptist Church, nicknamed “The Cornerstone of the Nation,” because Liberia’s Declaration of Independence was signed there. “It’s still here, but it’s not like it used to be. It’s not as glaring as it was.” While a large number of Liberians view the United States as their mother country, some say that America’s failure to show significant interest in their nation’s development in recent years makes them feel like a mistreated stepchild.

Few Americans have traveled here, compared with the traffic of U.S. tourists to Ghana and Senegal. And complaints abound over the difficulty of getting even a visitor’s visa to the United States.

Some Liberians are particularly disappointed that African Americans have not taken a greater interest in helping to develop Liberia.

“African Americans have turned their backs on us. We are isolated,” said Henry Zolu Gant, 73, whose grandfather came to Liberia from Chicago in 1870 and became a prosperous merchant. “I’m disappointed.”

Five of Gant’s nine children live in the U.S. According to Gant, one of them serves in the Navy and was recently deployed to the Persian Gulf. Gant’s wife moved to Georgia for medical treatment after she was severely injured in 1990 during another stage of the country’s seemingly unending civil war.

If the U.S. does send troops to intervene in Liberia, citizens here hope it will make the two nations’ bond even stronger. Many Liberians even say they are keen to find the American side of their family tree.

“I feel connected to America,” Townsend said. “I feel I have roots there. I have a wish to find my people.”