By Joe Bartuah
“Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Shall Be Comforted.”
Matthew 5:4
As a family, we are not only mourning the loss of a beloved precious soul, but also celebrating a meaningful, an impactful life that was well lived. The relationship involving my oldest sister, Mrs. Annie Likarnue-Gorloun Bartuah-Sarvah and me spanned more than 60 years. Because it was a familial tie that lasted for more than six decades, I will, for the sake of brevity, put it in a nutshell, starting with a relatively recent narrative, just to show how throughout her life, she was so kind, caring to me and other family members, as well as relatives and associates.
In May 2001, a few days following my return from Dakar, Senegal, where I had gone to attend the Consultative Conference for Democracy, which was organized by the Open Society for West Africa, my sister came to Monrovia. She brought me a big billy-goat. She then told me that somebody had told her that I was traveling to “America” and that’s why she had rushed to see me off to the U.S. Let’s remember that at the time, cellphones were not all over the place as personal necessities as they are nowadays. In other words, communication in Monrovia, let alone rural Liberia was extremely difficult then.
Upon reflection, I can say that my late sister predicted my eventual travel to the U.S., because in all honesty, I had no inkling at the time about traveling to the U.S. This was simply because I basically lacked the means at the time. What happened was that because the Charles Taylor regime had in 1999, arbitrarily declared our newspaper—The NEWS—which I then headed “a dissident newspaper”, so I made sure to publicize my traveling out of the country, so that there will be a public record of my activities, especially outside of Liberia. And so when I was traveling to Senegal, I had issued a press release and apparently somebody heard the newscast all the way in Nimba County and told my sister at the time that I was traveling to the United States. Of course, my travel to Senegal was preceded by my 37-day detention at the Monrovia Central Prison, along with three of my colleagues on bogus charges.
I was shocked when I saw her, because that was her first trip to Monrovia in 18 years! She and her husband had attended my high school graduation in 1983. Suffice it to say that my sister’s 2001 trip to Monrovia was typical of how caring and serviceable she was within the family. Our Matriarch was the Connective Tissue for us all; she was the Super Glue that bound all of us together. Whether it was in our hometown of Kaipa, in our late mother’s birthplace of Zahn-Zayee, in Seegbeh Town where she was raised by her paternal Aunt, Mrs. Kardor Vonyee Fallah, or her own marital hometown of Vahn Town, where she and her husband, the late Mr. James Wehyee Sarvah lived for decades, our Matriarch never spared any effort to connect with and care for family members and relatives.
Whether it was a celebratory event, or a somber occasion, she always made sure to be there. I can still vividly remember when she and I walked for more than six long hours on rugged feed road and bush path, from Vahn Town via Kwendin, Giopa and Boyee to Zahn-Zayee with a two-year-old baby Mercy on her back in 1971, when our mom’s oldest sister passed away. Even though by the time we heard the news our aunt had been buried three weeks earlier, that didn’t deter my sister from going!
When my sister was born on July 16, 1942 at the Duside Hospital, our dad, the late Gayegbay Bartuah, who was also known by friends and workmates as Kaipa Bartuah, was then an employee of the Firestone Plantations Company stationed at Division #4. But at the tender age of one-year, our dad turned her over to his younger sister—Mrs. Kardor Vonyee Fallah–who was visiting at the time, and basically told her: “This is your daughter; don’t consider her as your niece; you have all rights to give her in marriage when she attains maturity.” That was in keeping with tradition and also illustrative of the close bond between our dad and his two maternal sisters, because our dad realized that his younger sister did not have a child of her own. As a result, our Matriarch grew up in the Fallah Household of Seegbeh Town, until she met the love of her life from the nearby Vahn Town, in Tappita District, Nimba County.
As the very first child of our parents—Mrs. Pillah D. Bartuah and Gayegbay Bartuah, our Matriarch didn’t have any big brother or big sister to learn from, or to follow their example, yet she had the natural task of setting good examples for all of her 11 junior siblings that followed her. Today I can say with confidence that regarding her naturally-assigned task of setting good examples for her junior siblings, she brilliantly rose to the occasion and excellently played her role with admiration. She and her late husband were lifetime partners, not only with complementary, but also complimentary characters; they were both all-embracing and compassionate. My improbable journey to literacy is a vivid testimony to their selflessly serviceable character.
In March 1969, our mom, then a middle age widow, told me: “I’ll carry you to your older sister so you can start school.” At the time, I was angling to my 10th year. There was no motor road, let alone school in Kaipa, or in any of the surrounding towns and villages then. My little sister—Mary—was at the time a five-year-old chubby toddler that our skinny mother had to carry on her bare back. We spent two days traveling, spending one night with Uncle Mawlee in Tappita and Aunty Kardor-Vonyee and her family in Seegbeh Town.
A day after our arrival in Vahn Town, our mom told Mr. James Wehyee Sarvah, her 32-year-old son-in-law and his 27-year-old wife (my sister), “I brought this boy for you and your wife to help me raise him and send him to school. He must stay with you until he becomes a man.” So began my journey in the Sarvah Household in Vahn Town. At the time, my sister was about seven-month pregnant with my niece—Mercy who is herself a grandmother today.
Just imagine two young people, two unlettered poor farmers accepting an additional burden at the time. For me, it’s an exemplary epitome of kindness, caring and compassion. About 42 years ago when the seed of their selfless service was bearing its first fruit with my high school graduation, Mr. Sarvah and his dear wife were the proud foster-parents at the Centennial Pavilion in downtown Monrovia to witness the occasion. They had traveled all the way from Nimba County to be a part of the occasion.
Upon reflection, I can proudly say with confidence that our Matriarch fought a good fight, because she tremendously helped in making her niche a better place than she had seen it from the onset. Whereas my high school graduation 42 years ago was the very first in both the Bartuah and Sarvah families, my dear sister is leaving the world when three of her four children are college degree holders, or post-secondary diploma recipients; she’s leaving the world when three of her grandchildren are already out of college and one great-grandchild is now in college; when the Bartuah Household now has several college graduates and master degree holders.
William Shakespeare, the renowned English sage had opined centuries ago that this world is “a stage.” Because it’s like a stage, so each of us comes, we play our parts and eventually transition to eternity, leaving behind a legacy. Thank you so much, my dear sister, for helping to make this world a better place for us all. You and your husband helped in preparing a lone ranger, who was barely blazing the literary trail at the time, but today as you depart the world and transition to our Venerable Ancestors, you’re leaving behind a legion of intellectual titans, or consummate professionals who are steadily striving, excelling in their respective professions.
REST ON, MY SISTER. YOU FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT.
MAY YOUR SELFLESS SOUL REST IN ETERNAL PEACE.
Photo captions:
- The Late Mrs. Annie Likarnue-Gorloun Bartuah-Sarvah
- THE PROUD FOSTER PARENTS: The late Mr. and Mrs. James Wehyee Sarvah–along with two of their kids—Mercy and Angeline–at my high school graduation 42 years ago.
