FIRST PERSON
Volume 10 Number 3
The Eyes That Altered My Path
01 June 1997

Liberian peace-worker Samuel Doe describes how an encounter with a starving child changed the course of his life.


'Growing up in a densely populated slum in Monrovia, Liberia's capital, I had a dream for my life. One day I would become a banker. I dreamed that I would have an end to suffering, to poverty and to all the stigma I felt as a slumdweller among my schoolmates. It was because of this that I wanted to do banking, to be where money-the solution to my poverty-was kept. In high school I did best in the quantitative subjects like maths, and with banking still my objective, I eventually studied economics at university.

On 24 December 1989, as I was starting my final year, the civil war that is now raging in Liberia began. By June 1990 the entire country was under siege. No one was allowed to leave his home. For most people there was nothing to eat. I was among those who went without food for three months.

It was during this time that I encountered God in a very special way. On 14 July 1990, I decided to risk walking around the neighbourhood as I was growing very weak because of starvation. We had just lost our uncle in the painful death of starvation, and I was scared that I would be next since I was now the weakest person in the family. To strengthen my muscles I decided to take a walk.

A few blocks from my home I saw a little child lying under the eaves of a school. He was practically skin and bones. His teeth were exposed to the hungry flies which were getting their daily meal out of his saliva. His eyes, which were drawn into his head, were partially closed. Like a strange magnet, I was drawn to this child. I stood over him for 15 minutes and decided to quickly find something edible.

God miraculously provided a few pieces of popcorn which I bought for 50 cents. I raced back to where the child was lying, opened his mouth and slipped in a piece of popcorn. I stooped beside him, anxiously waiting to see his weak jaw moving... Sadly, I was wrong. There was no energy left for this child to chew the popcorn. After about 10 minutes, in his last burst of energy, he opened his eyes to the full and looked into my eyes. We looked at each other for three minutes, during which something strange went on. I felt like those weak eyes penetrated the formlessness of my being; our souls were in profound engagement.

Then he closed his eyes. I watched his belly as he breathed more and more slowly. Then there was not any movement of his belly. His body became stiff. I realized that he was dead. In tears I looked on that lifeless body and asked, 'How many of you are lying beside schools, in bushes, along the streets? How many of you are now swallowed in the madness of greed, hatred and fear?'

I went home, retreated to my quiet room and asked, 'God, do you really care? Did you see that child who, though nameless, penetrated my being?' I told God that I would not cease to pursue peace until it happened in Liberia.

This was how I made a commitment with God to work for healing and peace. I abandoned my dream of a career in banking to go into the villages and towns and announce God's good news of healing and peace. With the backing of the Catholic Archdiocese of Monrovia, the first trauma, healing and reconciliation programme was established in Liberia in 1990.

Starting in the capital, then moving out into safe parts of the country, we listened to people's experiences, wept together and through singing and sharing our faith, encouraged one another to hold on. I also helped develop a counselling programme for ex-child soldiers, and have encouraged many other rehabilitative programmes. In the last six years I have done nothing except to work for peace.

I look back on those six years with awe. How did it all grow? How was I able to go through check points where child soldiers were killing anybody who had a link with former government leaders? Although I had no relationship with the late tyrant, Samuel K Doe, we shared the same name. Obviously there was no way I would be able to convince any soldier that I was not related to him. Yet amazingly, during those six years of frequent travel in areas held by the different factions in Liberia, although members of my team were asked their names, no one ever asked for my name. God faithfully protected me.

The other miracle was finding the words to say. Often people couldn't believe that I was an economist, not a pastor or a psychologist. God provided the right words and methods to draw out of people their vision for healing. The night of every training, I would have a time of prayer. I began with a simple plea, 'Lord, glorify yourself. Grant us utterance to announce your power to heal and give peace.'

Honestly, I still admire those bankers. I enjoy going to a bank and seeing them do their work. One thing that is clear, however, is that I have not forgotten those eyes that changed my path. Sometimes I get so disappointed. For six years our hopes for peace have been destroyed. But whenever I think of abandoning the call, that nameless child appears to me. Connecting him to my five- year-old daughter, I shout, 'No, Lord, no. Please forgive me. I cannot give up.' I know that God will not let that child's plea go unanswered.
Samuel Doe


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