Konobo District Center for Information Exchange. Grand Gedeh County

We are all in this together no matter who support who.
I think is now time that unicef give the NCHAP to another organization for implementation. I strongly believe that those people didn't able the community health program. Why will you keep health workers incentive for 9 months?
These people are very heartless. I don't think they can stand the pain we are facing right now.
Why we should always protest before receiving what belongs to us?
That is completely wrong.

About A man Named T. Jeffery
Written By: Darius Kuwon Goah

By the restoration of my memory a flashback dear to me has troubled my mind today.
I may not have welcomed it fully when it actually happened.
I may not have felt the true meaning of its impact on me.
I might have said to myself, “This is too traditional for me.”
I may have even mentioned to my friends “I hate anything that is not modern.”
Whatever the case, there was a place deep down in my heart for a man named T. Jeffery.

A young man born in a very remote town in Liberia,
A town that came to be known as Pour Town;
A town where the most educated brains of Grand Gedeh emerged
And galloped away, to far away lands across the oceans,
In the name of seeking knowledge and “good life;”
Neglecting the very town that gave birth to their very existence.

The man T. Jeffery was not among those galloping brains.
Yet, he was a brain all by himself.
Although he called everyone his friend;
Although known across his entire district;
No one ever befriended him.

This T. Jeffery was a Krahn traditional musician.
Town to town he went every weekend;
Accepting no gift from anyone on his journey.
All he did was sing for everyone to make merry.
All he did was make his people forget their worries, and dance.
This was his life from day to day.

Then the Liberian brutal war started.
Smoke from Bazookas and RPGs engulfed the air.
Women and children laid in pulls of blood.
Animals and humans ran in the same direction.
Terror himself declared an emergency curfew.
And hunger took over every strata of Liberian society.

Fear and sorrow filled the hearts of the most innocent.
And the entire tribe of T. Jeffery was declared wanted by rebel forces.
T. Jeffery was forced to flee his home for fear of his life.
Refugee he became;
In a place vividly known to modern man;
Into the deepest jungle of the French Ivory coast fled he.
In a village called Poubli took he refuge.

Again, from village to village he went,
Singing his usual songs to his people.
Knew he that they were worried.
Mothers and Fathers, Brothers and sisters, Missing friends
All killed by rebels.

T. Jeffery wanted to restore the hopes of his people once again.
With songs he restored their hopes.
For what else could he have done?
Was all he could do...

Fifteen years he sang songs of hope and empowerment,
Empowering over 10,000 refugees;
Of which he himself was one.

Fifteen years comforted he the hearts of his people with songs of hope in a foreign land.

Then the Liberian war subsided.
And refugees anxiously returned home.
The boy T. Jeffery was one of them.
He wanted to go back to his country.
Along with his people, he returned to his homeland.

While in his homeland,
He continued his songs of hope and empowerment.

One day, T. Jeffery got sick.
Extremely sick…
But there was no one willing in the entire land to help him.
No one would talk to him.
No one knew him anymore.
And T. Jeffery died.

The man of whom I write was a true Liberian.
His legacy though forgotten by those he comforted.
My heart lies with him deep in the soil of Pour Town, Liberia.

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Note to Readers: No part of this publication is allowed to be reproduced in any form, or by any means without firstly contacting the author Mr. Darius Kuwon Goah @ [email protected]
0778813393/0881782520

By election results

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