Liberian Literary Magazine
hearth. This meant building
my own house and getting a
wife. In looking around, my
mind began to settle on Tene,
the daughter of old man Joma
and his wife Sombo Karn.
Tene had just turned
thirteen, handsome as they
come. Her coffee color skin
and eyes were bewitching.
Men fell in love with Tene the
moment they saw her. The
girls in her circle envied her
for this. Because Tene had
many admirers, some of my
close friends advised me that
if I wanted her to be my wife,
I would have to resort to
strong love medicines to turn
her heart towards me.
When the opportunity was
offered me, I did not hesitate
to impress upon Tene, my
intense desire for her. But I
had no intimate relative in
whom I could confide, and I
realized that this was the
difficulty. Someone had to
intercede for all the details
involved in getting a wife.
The only person I could rely
on was Kema, Tene's own
sister, who in fact, had
suspected
my
intensions
towards her sister, and for a
long time encouraged it.
I trusted Kema so implicitly
that I swallowed anything she
told me about her sister line,
hock
and
sinker.
She
reminded
me
of
my
importance in the family.
Kema felt that because of my
economic value in the family,
her parents would have no
reason to refuse me their
daughter.
Everyone in Bendabli knew
that I was the main source of
support for the Joma family.
My foster parents depended
on me for making the annual
rice farms, gathering palm
nuts to make oil, making traps
and crawfish baskets to
supply the house with meat
Promoting Liberian literature, Arts and Culture
and other daily needs for the
quarter. Now and then I took
small bush cutting contracts
to obtain money with which
the family bought tobacco,
salt and paid the annual hut
tax.
The more the Tene matter
came to my mind, the more I
thought of the dowry the old
people would demand of me.
On this question Kema and I
shared opposite views. She
felt that since I was the main
source of support for the
family, perhaps a token offer
should be sufficient. But what
this figure should be, she
never ventured to tell me.
Although I was a member of
the family I did not want my
foster parents to dash me a
wife.
Soon the dowry issue
became the talk of the
village. Some felt that my
desire for Tene was immoral,
but they could never convince
me on what grounds. Some
felt that in order to keep an
asset like me in the house, old
man Joma should make a
sacrifice and give me his
daughter for little or nothing.
A delicate issue like Tene's
dowry, I thought should be
discussed in close confidence
between Kema and me. One
evening while Kema was
visiting me in my one room
kongo adjacent to the bi g
square house of my foster
parents,
I
seized
the
opportunity to ask her,
“Kema, this one dowry
business has been all over the
town now for I don't know how
many months. What do the
old people want for your
sister? Be frank and tell me.”
“Gortokai, I thought we had
decided this.” Kema replied.
“On the exact amount?”
“Not
exactly.”
Kema
reflected. “Gortokai, you
have done so much for my old
3
parents, we owe it to you to
give you a wife. If I had a
husband with money.” Kema
pointed out, knocking her
chest, “I would take money
and pay dowry for a woman
for you myself.”
I believed every word Kema
spoke. To make matters short
I told her that I had decided
to pay the full forty dollars
which is required for all
virgins. The only thing that
mattered was whether Tene
loved me. Kema gave every
assurance that her sister was
in love with me.
Immediately, I decided to
make some quick money with
which to pay Tene's dowry,
and was fortunate to obtain
an offer to go to Suehn on the
Bopolu Road, to clean out a
man's rubber farm for forty
dollars. This amount would go
a long way towards the dowry
and other expenses involved
in getting a wife.
I got to Suehn as quickly as
possible. Of the first ten
dollar advance I received, I
sent eight to Kema to buy a
lappa, a tin of powder, a jar
of sweet smelling pomade and
mambo earrings for her sister,
as a surprise from me. I don't
remember anyone ever giving
her such presents. I did this to
make Tene feel that I was
serious.
I waited one week after the
dispatch of the money, but
got no word from Bendabli.
This silence annoyed me, so
much so I got despondent and
careless on the job. I paid
dearly for this a few days
later. With my own cutlass, I
nearly chopped off my right
big toe.
For three weeks I was
unable to do any work. My
employer
engaged
the
services of a local herbalist to
treat my injured toe. I
thought I would use the toe as