Ayida-Weddo and the Tales of Heroes

Serving aboard ship was a long and challenging life. It is not for the faint-hearted, but after being taken off of it, I now had more time than ever. I used my time wisely to begin writing books. Writing had and continues to serve as therapy for me. It helped me through my times, even way before diseases or social unrest ever became the main headlines of modern media. 

What if we live in a world where myths were real?

What if we live in a world knowing that the folklores were true?

What if we live in a world in that the fairy tales were real?

What if we live in a world where history and myth intersect?

What do you believe?…..

“I think you are heading into this too fast. I can’t believe that they accepted you for this mission,” Jones replied. “Our goals are to ensure that the U.S. Embassy is protected during our deployment. We must get those refugees out of there before rebel forces arrive.”

They stood by the Helipad of the US Embassy that had already been established by Joint Task Force Liberia. It was a rescue and relief operation launched by the United States to provide relief effort to evacuate refugees of the upcoming rebel forces closing in on Monrovia against the Charles Taylor administration forces. Two hundred marines were sent to partake in this mission, with many more coming to help Liberia.

“It’s such a mess,” Jones said as they were taking a short break. “I can already see the devastation. I can hear everything in the distance.…..”

“My mission is to go in there and to find them,” Thomas remarked. “I have to use this cease-fire as a moment to press east…..”

They looked at the beach as the helicopter had deployed the next set of troops.

Jones gave a firm finger and pointed to him, “Whatever you do, whatever the fuck you do, don’t go to West Point north of here in Monrovia. It’s……”

“I am well informed of the area, Jones,” Thomas interrupted. “Trust me. From the horror stories I hear, I have no plan to go to West Point or any of the slums in Liberia. With this coming conflict coming to a close and Charles Taylor already gone, that place is off-limits. Make sure everyone you talk to, marinewise, avoids that place or any place suspected of destabilization until more peacekeeping forces arrive.”

“I can’t believe you are going deep into Liberia for this assignment. It’s suicide. You will get killed, and they will….”

“Possibly eat me, I know Jones. I know what is at stake. Volunteers of my group are known to go on suicide missions. Their goals are clear. We must search it out.”

“This ceasefire can end at any moment,” Jones remarked. “It was made just yesterday, and it is very precarious. It is only just here in Monrovia as well. It does not mark the rest of the area.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow. His pale skin was already getting cooked from the hot sun. The smell of the ocean breeze was marked with the distant sounds of conflict and war. Jones, being African American, would help play a role in getting Thomas to the destination point.

Thomas thought to himself as Jones looked at the buildings of Monrovia in the far distance. A part of him wondered if he was genuinely insane in accepting this assignment. He couldn’t believe that he was a part of Outreach. The orders superseded his chain of command. It was a suicide mission but something that he was ready for.

Outreach was a small unknown organization in the United States Government. Its goal was to search out any potentially magical events that happened and report back its findings to the UN. It was a secret organization that was responsible for finding things such as mythical creatures, deities, folktale creatures, or any unusual events and catalogs the events to the UN. It was not a large organization, nor was it well received by the government. Many argued with the purpose of such an organization and its purpose. The fatality rate for its volunteers was astronomical, and as a result, the few that volunteer and manage to report back encounter nothing to report except just more ghost stories. Thomas decided to tell Jones a little bit of the story as his goal was to assist him on this mission.

Corporal Thomas was a man of twenty-eight that served in the United States Marines. He was a firm believer in God and a spiritualist at heart. He studied theology and war in college. He was never the best of the group, but he was a man of adventure. He was the perfect individual to volunteer for Project Outreach. He wanted to take up the most dangerous assignment he wanted, even if it got him killed. He was not suicidal, but to him, he had to search for the truth.

“They always show up during conflicts,” he whispered to himself. “It’s as if they are searching for something…….something important. Even conflicts such as this they will ultimately show up if they haven’t already done so. One of those people in this savage conflict is sure to be what I am looking for.”

He took a good look at his surroundings. He was not far from the US Embassy. He could see the white building somewhat in a state of disrepair as it stood in a precarious situation. With forces closing on the city, former President Charles Taylor fleeing to Nigeria, the two Civil Wars, the building, and its staff had to face great peril. For Thomas, he was not a part of this mission to enforce and protect the staff. His goal was to head eastward.

“Yekeba,” he thought quietly to himself. “I can look at the map and think it’s close, but it puts me at the border of Guinea and Cote D’Ivoire. It’s very far, almost a two hundred-mile travel through the plague-ridden, war-ridden territory.”

He considered his options. He could take a helicopter or plane, but it would risk getting shot down by some warring faction. If it is one thing he knew, the United States felt comfortable with Liberia while keeping its back to the sea in case they needed to retreat or reinforce its capital.

It is 2003. It was a time when Liberia was in a fierce second civil war following the recent First Civil War that lasted from 1989 to 1997. Liberia, a nation created by the United States by the American Colonization Society, the purpose of the act was to allow former ex-slaves and freed slaves to return to a place in Africa. It was a mangled plan that ultimately ended up having tens of thousands of former slaves move to a location that some have never been to and claim as a home of their own. Liberia is a historical footnote in US history books of the actual consequences of the current present. It is a history marked with success, savagery, bloodshed, disaster, and potential. It will be a place that Corporal Eugene Thomas, a man born in Virginia from a middle-class family, was soon to discover the true beauty and horror a place can be. The Liberian Civil Wars would simply be known to some as the “Cannibals’ War.”

With the arrival of the US Marines, a temporary ceasefire was called by Rebel Forces to allow the safe transversal of individuals. Many thought that the US was there to help restore balance to the location. While this was true to a point and would not happen until later, many Liberians were mistaken in the beginning because their goal was to safely evacuate individuals, not restore peace. Once US citizens were evacuated, the Marines were to leave. At this time, Thomas had his chance to head East deep through Liberian territory to a place he was secretly assigned to search by Outreach.

Thomas went and picked up his backpack filled with emergency supplies, ammo, food, water, and other necessities that would allow him to survive at least for a couple of days. He and Jones were already dressed in civilian clothing. Technically if the road was unhindered, it was only a 200-mile trip, but with a war going on and tensions everywhere, it could turn that simple trip into a day’s journey. If he made it and found nothing, then it was his job to get back home to the marines or by other means. For the agents of Outreach, their goals were to find what they were looking for, even if it meant their very lives. It was a volunteer mission with so few willing to actually do it. But for Thomas, he was ready to die if need be to accomplish his goal.

Jones took a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He was dressed in a marine uniform like the rest of the marines.

Thomas readied his backpack as he slipped it over his shoulders. It was heavy, but he carried heavier. He was already used to the arduous training to become a marine. This was no different. He wore dark blue denim jeans, a brown khaki shirt, a farmer’s hat to help with the heavy sunlight, sunglasses, and a holster to hold his gun, ammo, and trusty knife. He knew that he stood out like a sore thumb in the Liberian countryside with him being light skin tone compared to everyone else. However, he was hoping that in itself might actually help him across the countryside. Or at the very least, he hoped.

“Are you sure you are not going to take an M1911 Pistol instead?” Jones asked him, looking at his holster. “You know the M9s are good, but it will obviously let everyone know that you come from somewhere else like Europe or the US.”

Thomas went and unholstered his pistol and took a look at it. It was fully loaded with 15 9mm rounds. He also had two fully loaded spare magazines fit into his holster. “Trust me, Jones. I have a hunch that if I encounter any resistance, then I will need the best pistol we can use. The M1911 pistol is good, but I want something….well newer. I can hold up to twice as many rounds than that, but you do hold a point on it. The M1911 would make me look less conspicuous and part of the crowd better. I really don’t think they will take too much at a look at my gun, to be honest, especially in the holster.”

Thomas walked through the path that led to the jeep. They could see the embassy building not far from the path. The sound of flying helicopters dropping off personnel and supplies with personnel staff moving around showed the busyness of the area.

“I get this feeling that I am saying goodbye to a man that is going to die soon,” Jones told him. “The area is going to be just too unpredictable. They will see you and either shoot you or block you from going any further. What would your girlfriend say to this mission? Rumors of this being the Cannibals’ War, they can do…..”

“I don’t have anybody waiting for me back home,” Thomas interrupted him again. “I don’t even have that much family either. No one will miss me if I get killed. That is why I choose this mission. I am not suicidal. I just know that what I am looking for will be there and that I will succeed in it.”

Jones shook his head. “It’s your funeral, man. I still think you are chasing ghosts.”

“That is for me to figure out. Make sure that no one comes searching for me if I don’t return in two days. Assume I am dead or killed in the conflict. I don’t want anybody risking their lives trying to rescue me.”

Jones held up his hands. “Fine….the command staff seems to fully understand, and they can’t supersede orders from Outreach as well.”

They reached the jeep that the Marines ferried in. This jeep was nothing special it fitted with enough gas to take him there and back. It had no weapons or any special equipment. He did have a radio that he could call upon others, but he had a strict request that there would be nothing special just in case the jeep was taken from him that it could not be used to benefit that group or war party. It appeared they did just that. The jeep looked like it was dilapidated somewhat, having paint that was flaking off. It had no roof to it, and some of the elements worked on the upholstery and internal workings of the vehicle. The key was in the ignition and ready to take off when he was ready to go.

“Hey Jones, thank you for being a good…..conversationalist on the Iwo Jima. To be honest, I needed a friend during the trip here. I think in all reality, you guys are the heroes going here in the first place.”

Jones took one of his arms and wrapped it around him. “Trust me, man, if you survive this, give me a holler back in the States, alright? I really hope you find what you are looking for. This Project Outreach sometimes just needs to go to church if they are on this mad quest to find god.”

“Or gods,” he added. “I already believe in God, and he will guide me to find what I am looking for. I wish you luck out there. Godspeed…..”

Thomas returned the half-hug to him as he patted him on the shoulder. “I will be back. Just wait.”

“Take care, Sergeant,” and with that, he backed away from the jeep. He went to the edge of the parking lot to give one final farewell to him.

Thomas was sitting in the driver’s seat of the jeep. He took his backpack and placed it on the passenger seat. He then unholstered his pistol and put it next to the bag. This way, he could grab it quickly if needed. He had no idea what was in store for him. He went and pulled out the note that held much weight on his soul.

He read the note to himself “According to this report that I am assigned by Outreach, I am to go to Yekepa, Liberia in Nimba County. According to their story, they uncovered an unknown phenomenon when LAMCO or the Liberian American Swedish Mining Company finally halted operations at the beginning of 1994. With the ongoing civil war, both sides fought one another for the iron ore mine and plundered the area all the way up to now. Supposedly they encountered a person that could not die. He appeared to be a bald man walking around in the robes of a monk. He was part of the church group in which he supposedly got shot, but nothing happened to him. The reports were considered to be nonsense to some. Others simply consider it to be something made up. It was in one of the many reports they did as the company could no longer function due to the war. It is my only main lead. I have done research on this and came up with the conclusion that this is the perfect person to look for. He would stand out in the group of people. The question is, would he still be there? Is this supposed man still alive? Is it just a false story covered up or ignored by the company before its end? There was only one way to find out, and now was the time to investigate.”

He started up the jeep. It took a couple of seconds for him to turn the key to start the engine. The jeep was working, but it was a sign that it hasn’t started in a while. He was going to be putting this jeep through a rough ride through dirt road terrain and potential hostile factions that ally either with Taylor’s forces or one of the anti-Taylor forces. Either of them might shoot and kill him if he encountered them. He braced for whatever was going to be in his way. He would, if necessary, bribe his way past if they didn’t gun him down first. He was ready no matter what.

He took a look at his surroundings once again. He was clear to leave. He revved the engine and shifted it into automatic as he took it out of parking. He drove the jeep past the parking lot and up to the gate entrance. He waved at the gate guard as they opened up the gate to let him out. He said goodbye to the embassy and anybody friendly as the jeep began to head out into the unknown.

She was running at a hurried pace. Her goal was to make it to the nearby village to hide or seek shelter. Like most Liberians, she had a fairly dark complexion of the skin. She had short hair, wore a light green shirt, light blue shorts, and wore a set of rubber sandals. She was not tall, being at about five feet four inches. She ran with an antique snub revolver given to her by the warlord for her service in the warring faction. She used it to end a man’s life that brought harm to her for a second time.

“I must make it…..I must make it,” she said to herself in a thick West African accent as she ran. To her left was the forest but the dirt road was the quickest way through. She would occasionally look back and see that she was not being followed.

Amazingly, the place was quiet. There was not much activity on the road except an old man walking with two sets of cattle. He could do nothing as the woman ran past him. She knew the man was no threat to her.

“Two shots……two shots left,” she said to herself. “I will not stay in Kahnla anymore. I can’t go back. I won’t go back. My home is lost. My dear brother…..I am so sorry. I won’t let them turn me into this…….I won’t be one of them.”

Her foot folly traversed the roads with ease. Her feet hurt and buckled as it slammed hard into the rock and dirt. She was making a run that would challenge some military recruits when it came to running. When your life is pressed, you can do anything, and she wasn’t stopping.

“Not going back……not going back to them……I will use the bullet on myself if need be.”

Her heart was giving her a hard time. She was in a wilderness road that led straight forward or back. She was breathing hard, she had to stop, or she was going to collapse. She could see the village of New Baba not far from her. She was nearing her goal. She could see the outskirts that lined the dirt, huts, and homes adjacent to the village. It was not a big place, but hopefully, somebody could help her instead of turning her back into the Warlord to face her crimes.

She looked back and could see a truck in the distance. She had no choice; it was still far enough that they might not have spotted her yet. She turned to the trees off the road and ran to it. She hurried off the dirt road and got behind a ceiba tree. It was large enough for the trunk to cover her silhouette while the rest of the foliage could provide cover.

She put her back to the tree as she stopped to catch her breath. She was never more exhausted in her life. Running on pure adrenaline, she managed to escape her captors but for how long?

“They couldn’t…..couldn’t have seen me…..God help me,” she said quietly to herself. She could only hear the wilderness ahead of her. Birds were chirping, singing, and the rustle of animal life in the far, far distance of the forest.

Her breathing was slowing down, her feet were bruised, her legs were screaming her to stop. She ran for a good two miles to the best of her abilities.

“I won’t let…..them capture me,” she said to herself. “I would rather die than go back. I will do it if I can.”

She wrapped herself into a ball and pressed herself to the back of the tree with her butt resting peacefully on the ground floor.

Suddenly she heard the truck as it got closer and closer. She dared not look as she could listen to it get loud enough that it continued to drive forward. Then she heard it slowed down as the brakes squeaked and grown as the truck was slowing to a stop.

“This is it,” she quietly said to herself. “They either saw me, or they didn’t. Two rounds left. One bullet for one of them and if need be one for me.”

The truck was about fifty feet away from her. It was a makeshift pickup truck with a machine gun mounted on the back of the bed. They were a common form of armed vehicle during the war when armored cars were not present. Easy to use and ferry into battle even if they lacked armor. There was a man on the machine gun as he looked around. The passenger of the truck got out as he held an AK-47 in his hands. He looked around in the road and forest. Zoe could barely hear the men as they spoke to one another.

“I think your imagination is getting ahead of you,” said the passenger to the driver.

“Keep looking around a little bit more. There is no way she could have made it this far,” said the driver.

“I didn’t see anything behind the truck,” the machine gunner said with a shrug. If she is hiding in the forest, it will take forever to find her.”

“We better find her…..General Thunder Dirt will have our heads if we don’t find her or at least kill her,” the passenger responded.

“What do you want us to do? Search the entire forest?” The driver asked.

“I am not in the mood to go checking behind every tree. Let nature take her. Fuck her,” the machine gunner replied.

Zoe stayed absolutely quiet as she knew she was not far from them. All she had to do to survive now was wait for them to leave.

“Fine, I have an idea, though,” the passenger said as he lifted his gun and aimed it straight up. He pulled the trigger of AK-47 twice as two rifle gunshots echoed through the forest. It scared Zoe as she remained still.

“I figure, if the General is ever listening, he might have heard those two shots. We will just tell her we shot her dead. You will just have to back me up on this.”

The driver shrugged. “Sounds good to me. What about you back there?”

The machine gunner nodded as he let go of the tripod mount. “Yeah, ok, we got her.”

The truck revved up as it began to move again. It began to make a U-turn on the dirt. Before she knew it, the vehicle started to drive away again.

The forest was quiet once again. Zoe cried as she felt relieved. She lost her pursuers, and for everyone that wanted to pursue her, they assumed she was dead.

“I will stay here for ten minutes and wait for any more signs of searching in case they ever return,” she said to herself. “I need to catch my breath so bad. They truly thought I couldn’t make that run, ha.”

She sighed to herself as she looked at the revolver and dropped it to the ground. She took a look at her arm and could see the bruises from the man that assaulted and forced her down. She felt pain in her lower extremities as her adrenaline began to wear off.

“I am thankful that the man that raped me did it a day after my period. Otherwise, I might be having his child right now. At least…..I hope. God forgive me for killing him. I had to.”

With a system in anarchy, Liberia was a typical haven for rape and pillaging. Women in Liberia were often used as secondary soldiers and forced prostitutes to the soldiers around them. Zoe was just another case of this scenario. However, her training in shooting and firing a gun would save her life and livelihood. She was considered one of the better female soldiers in her group, or in this case, was.

She closed her eyes as she fell asleep, hearing only the sounds of nature around her.

Without hesitation, she stood up, wiping the dirt from her butt as she picked up her revolver and stuffed it into her pocket. She looked back at the road. It seemed all quiet just before she fell asleep.

“Time for me to move again,” she said to herself.

She began to walk to the road as she took a good look at her surroundings again. There weren’t many signs of human life around her.

“I was so close to making it to New Bapa. I must get there before it’s fully dark. Ugh….I wish I had a machete or something.”

Her feet hit the foliage as it eventually gave way to the opening of the road again. Before she knew it, she walked to the village ahead of her. She could see some lights from a distance. She looked behind her and saw no signs of traveling or movement. She was in the clear to head to the village.

“I shouldn’t run to the village with the coming darkness. If I run in and they have a sentry watching the road, then I will only spook them and risk getting shot or killed. Best to walk up at a normal pace, see if anybody is watching, and just let them know who I am. Is that the best idea, though?” She continued her walk down the road. “Just as well possible that New Bapa is controlled by General Thunder Dirt as well or at least have sympathizers. I don’t know what to do. I have no choice but to just press forward.”

Time started to pass slowly for her. It was a ten-minute walk in what would have taken a couple of minutes to reach by running. She was tired of running, though. She put her hand to her stomach as she felt her hunger pains. If she kept going at this rate, she would start to get weaker and weaker till she collapsed or got caught. Eventually, her foot sandals finally stepped at the outside of the village as the dirt road tilted into the village. She could see a series of primitive thatched houses and stone/clay-made buildings similar to her home in Kahnla. Both villages were never big to start off with. They could hold up to fifty to a hundred people at the max.

A boy that looked no older than twelve saw her first as he walked up with an old bolt action rifle. He was ready to aim it at her.

“Stop!” the child yelled at her.

There was nothing Zoe could do but look at the child. Even a child with a gun was dangerous in this environment. It was best not to provoke him any further.

“Please, don’t shoot. I mean you no harm,” Zoe told the child as she took a good look at the kid. She lied, of course. She would not have hesitated to shoot if the child was aiming the rifle at her, and she could draw her revolver quickly enough. For her, this was basic survival now.

“Where do you come from?” the child asked in a typical West African accent.

“Guinea…….,” Zoe lied again. “I come from Guinea. I wanted to check up on my family here.” She was not far from the truth as the border of Guinea was not far from this place, and it would not have taken much to get to there, but it would still be a walk from the area.

“Liar,” the child told her.

She didn’t want to tell the child this as it could create more problems, but she had to bring her case forward to prevent an issue. “I was dropped off at Kahnla. I wanted to check up my family here.”

The boy gave a questioning look at her. He went and aimed his rifle at her. He stood at a good ten feet from her. “I don’t believe you.”

There was suddenly a heavy voice that came from the stone house near the both of them. It carried much weight and seemingly halted the tension in the air.

“That is enough, children.” It was a deep voice, both soothing and different to Zoe’s ears.

Zoe took a look at the home where the voice came from as the child went and lowered his rifle and looked in the general direction as well. It was getting dark as Zoe could barely make out a man in red robes. He was very different from the other men she had seen. He had a light skin complexion. He looked like he never came from Liberia or Africa itself. He was to her not a white man but something else. He was bald, simple in looks; it was as if he came from another side of the planet itself. He wore the same sandals that she did as well. To Zoe, he had some sort of aura to him that glowed to her eyes. It outlined his silhouette with a very faint light. She felt no fear towards this man.

The child himself calmed down perfectly as he watched him. Zoe watched as the man came up to her calmly and extended his hand towards her. Zoe felt inclined to shake the man’s hand.

“What is your name, child?” he said with a Pakistani accent. His voice was soothing to her, calming her reactions and any fear that she had.

“Zoe….my name is Zoe, sir.”

“A beautiful name, Zoe. You can call me All. What are you doing out here at this time at night?”

She was going to lie, but she felt no malevolence from this man. She looked at the boy and then back at the man dressed as a monk. “I was running for my life. I came from the nearby village of Kahnla a little north from here. A warlord has taken over there and using it as a base…..I fled from my home.”

The monk approached her and slowly put his hand to her head. He closed his eyes as if he was concentrate. Zoe, again, felt no fear towards this person. It was as if the man himself created a calming effect towards those around him. It was an odd feeling. She was not familiar with the people from where he came from or even the style of clothing that he wore. Zoe began to close his eyes as well as she felt some sort of energy course through her body. It felt incredible as it felt like a sense of warmth and belonging.

“You have a weapon of violence. Give it to the boy.”

She reached into her pocket and held it in the direction of the boy. The boy then took the gun from her hand.

“Now, Tim, take your gun and hers and put them away, we don’t need them, and we never will.”

The boy nodded as he ran into his small home and put the guns away under his bed.

“Who are you?” she asked him with her eyes still closed.

“I told you before, child, my name is All.”

Zoe felt something as she stepped away from his hand. He slowly opened his eyes as hers looked at him. “You are not who you appear to be.”

The monk gave a small smile to her. “Why do you say that?”

“I see a glow coming from you. It’s like…..some sort of energy coming from you. I have never seen it before.”

“What is it that you see?” the monk asked as he gave a bit of surprise on his face.

“It is like some sort of……..,” she shook her head, snapping herself out of the trance she was in. “Wait, I am trying to escape. I need food, I need water, I was trying to get away from a warlord. I have been attacked and need help.”

The monk went and took her hand. “Come to my home. I will provide you with what you need. You are safe here, child. Forgive Tim’s actions; I am thankful that you did not hurt each other. I told him he doesn’t need to have weapons of violence here……”

Zoe nodded. “It is ok. I admit he wasn’t scary enough for me to draw my gun on him……” she put her other hand to her head as painful memories ran through her head.               “I…..need help.”

“I will help you, child,” All responded as they walked with their hands wrapped together. “You are safe with me, I promise you that.”

“Thank you All. Thank you.”

Tim, the boy, ran back to join up with the monk as they stepped up to the door. It was a simple wooden door that connected to a stone house. It had only one window on the other side. There were a series of simple bed mattresses that lined the floor.

As Zoe stepped inside, it suddenly seemed more significant than it was as the door closed behind them. It was almost like she was stepping inside some small temple monastery. At first, before she stepped in, she saw simple stone walls connecting to a stove, furnace, and beds. The moment she stepped in, the colors of the walls changed. It was almost as if what she saw on the outside was an illusion of some sort. The moment she stepped in, she saw for what it really was. There were candles lit everywhere, lighting the inside of the large room.

“What do you see, child?” All asked her.

“I see red carpet, candles lit all around me; I see a statue of some fat man sitting on…..a shrine? I see the beds at the same corner. I still see some sort of energy coming from you.”

“What are you talking about, Zoe?” The boy asked her.

“I see it right in front of me. How do you not see it?” She told the boy.

“It is because he can’t see it, my child,” the monk replied, looking at her. “I am surprised you have the ‘sense.’”

Zoe swore she heard the sounds of distant chimes in the….whatever she was in. She again felt no threat towards her. She went and had a seat on the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief. The monk then picked up a bowl that was by the stove. She swore it had nothing in it as he handed it to her. She took a look, and there was assorted fruit on it.

The boy quickly got on one of the bed mattresses and watched them.

“What does he see?” she asked him.

“He sees a simple home. He sees me handing you food. He sees you eating.”

For Zoe, the moment she saw an apple, she bit into it. She grabbed a peach from the bowl as well, as she was practically inhaling the apple as she chewed vigorously into it. The monk then went and had a seat by the shrine and turned his back to her. He said nothing else to her as she ate and ate.

“Thank……thank you,” she said with a mouth full of food.

The monk’s eyes closed as he began to meditate. He almost seemed to be ignoring her. He then sat cross-legged as he put his hands to the sides of his legs. He placed the palms of his hands to his knees and focused.

Zoe felt like she had only one thing to do, and that was to sit comfortably. She was safe, and nothing else mattered. The candles, or at least what she was able to see, lit the room nicely. She watched All as he meditated at the statue of the fat man. After having her fill with the fruit, she went and climbed on one of the empty mattresses in the corner. She had successfully evaded the people who wanted to bring more harm to her and found refuge with this mysterious man. The question for her was who he was? There was certainly more going on than she knew about. For her, it seemed like a miracle had happened, but only time would be her true guide of what this person really was. For now, she had but one thing to do, and that was to close her eyes and fall asleep.

“Are you trying to leave too, white man?” The rebel looked at Thomas as he sported an AK-47 in his hands. He said this with a man that was perched on a pickup truck with a machine gun mount on the back as he wore sunglasses.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Where are you heading to?”

“I am heading to Yekepa on the other side of Liberia.”

The man with an AK-47 looked at Thomas with a stern look. Thomas took a good look at the surroundings and could already see a dead body not far from the truck. It looked like the body had been there for a couple of days. He was already used to seeing dead amongst the way as the shelling from the artillery was hitting random areas in the city. With the cease-fire, there was a bit of a sigh of relief obviously from the population.

“Why are you heading to Yekepa?” the guard asked him.

“I have been hired by LAMCO to go and survey the iron mines in Yekepa and check on its status.”

The guard went and turned around as he walked up the machine gunner to discuss his words. Thomas went and took a look at the other members in front. One of the five soldiers appeared to be young, very young like he was the age of ten as he sported an assault rifle.

Thomas himself was shocked to see a child a member of the army. He knew it is true. Pro-Taylor forces and Anti-Taylor forces were using child soldiers. The reports he heard even suggested worse of what happened to these kids. It was a crime what they were doing, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

The child was looking around as Thomas looked back at the two that were talking.

“Alright, you may go. Beyond this point, however, you are on your own. There will be more of us along the path. Once you get beyond Kakata and Gbarnga, you will encounter war factions that change their allegiances continuously. You are traveling on your own risk.”

Thomas then saw the man go near the truck and took a can of brown paint. He then pulled out a paintbrush and dipped it into the paint can. He then slapped a line of brown paint on the hood of his jeep with a wet paintbrush before he put the can back down. Thomas noted that many of the LURD soldiers wore these brown shirts that often even said “LURD” on them as a way to identify themselves from one another. The brown paint was a way to let everyone know that he was allowed to pass the checkpoint and that anyone could see the line drawn on his jeep so that he was not a foe from a distance.

“Move along,” he signaled to Thomas. Without hesitation, he stepped on the gas pedal as he reached near the city limits of Monrovia. He remarked as he saw many more soldiers parked along the side of the road. Some men, women, and even kids were all armed with various weapons. All of them watched him as his jeep drove past them.

“Such a beautiful place, yet the countryside is being torn apart,” he said to himself. “My lie worked.”

From what Thomas knew, Yekepa was initially a paradise on the other side of Liberia. Liberia was known for some exports, and one was Iron. An iron deposit was found by Nimba Mountains, and a joint venture corporation of American, Swedish, and Liberian was established there. Prior to Samuel Doe and the Tulbert Administration, it was a bit out of nowhere, and a community was established. White people and the native population cohabitated relatively peacefully, or at least what he knew of, of course. He could have been wrong on that. The first civil war destroyed all that. Most of the population left, and those that remained fought each other or plundered the area. The morning operations ceased by the end. Now it is just a shell of a town.

The irony was that by telling them where he was going, it was easier to convince them that he was just a member of LAMCO coming to check the area. On the other hand, they probably thought he was nuts to check the region, especially with a war going on.

He took a look at his surroundings behind him in his rearview mirror as he drove. Liberia and its neighboring nation Sierra Leone were being torn apart by the ravaging wars. It was only until last year that Sierra Leone ended its war and joined in the fight to end the war in Liberia. The dreaded concept of blood diamonds originated in areas such as Sierra Leone, and Liberia was becoming a haven for it as well. Driving by individuals that walked by the roads was a common occurrence for him. Monrovia was the most populated city in Liberia. Named after the fifth President of the United States, it had more people in one city than all the other towns of Liberia combined. If you controlled Monrovia, you controlled Liberia. It was plain and simple as that. Liberia was also one of the poorest nations in Africa and the world when it came to wealth. The civil war did not help any in the situation.

The nation was so poor they were barely able to afford to pave their own roads. They did manage to get a railway established from Yekepa to the city of Buchanan southeast of Monrovia. However, that has been shut down due to the war. He shook his head. He could have used those trains to get to Yekepa instead of this if that would have been the case.

Thomas relaxed as he drove about forty miles per hour down the road. He remarked on the green forests and occasional buildings and people around him. Kola trees, Bombex trees, Oil Palms, Liberia’s forests were beautiful even under the heavy heat. It rained often, and the location of Liberia almost put itself deep within the forests of West Africa. The orange dirt road was a clear indication that you were now driving out in the country once you left the capital. With only so many vehicles around him, it was apparent he stood out a little bit to the onlookers.

“First part of the hurdle has been passed,” he said to himself. “Many, many more to go. If I am uninterrupted, then I should make it in a few hours, but anything can happen from that point.” His heart was beating hard as he kept his mind focused on his driving. “I still have to ask myself why I am doing this? I still feel like I am drawn to this place though like I am being called to here. I just wish I knew why. I am risking my life for most likely nothing, but it does not shake those feelings away. I must find out why.”

As he drove, he would see dead bodies by the road. Others simply walked by the bodies, while others would occasionally strip the bodies for anything of value. Some bodies were mutilated by however killed them.

The wind would hit his dark hair as he drove. He noted that they have not even been able to take care of their dead. People were trying to take care of themselves and just survive. There was so little infrastructure and resources. If people were shot and killed, they were simply dumped into buildings to eventually be taken care of later. He hoped that people wouldn’t get used to this sort of thing, or it would have been a true sign that the world was falling apart.

He drove by a body that was stripped naked and on the road. The body’s chest had markings that it was cut down the center.

“The Cannibals’ War…..” he said to himself out loud again. “I have only heard stories of where I was briefed. Ancient traditions and the necessity of survival, and even the lack of food have combined into a wicked form of practice. Some tradition here believed that taking the entrails, to a person’s heart, to their blood of another person, before a battle would make you immune to the bullets when you charged into battle. I believe Charles Taylor will take most of the blame, but I have heard all sides engaged in such practices. I need to be careful. If I make a mistake, I could literally be on someone’s menu.”

Thomas shook his head as he focused on his driving. Even the thought that he was in a land where such practices were engaged could shake most people to the core. However, his mission was most important. He was drawn to this place. Almost as if someone was calling him to come to this place. He put his hand to his forehead as his other hand was on the steering wheel. The constant hum of the engine as the jeep moved allowed him to wander in his thoughts as he continually went back and forth trying to figure out his reasons for doing such a thing as this mission.

Suddenly a small clearing opened up in the forest as the road led by an open field with what looked like a plantation. There was no one around this large house, and it sat there like some largely abandoned castle. It was two stories tall as the grass had claimed most of the landscape. It had been left for some time. All he had to do was turn his jeep in.

Almost like a magnet, the building seemed to call him to a stop and check it out like he was some tourist. His mind was being drawn to this place. He could not explain his actions as he pulled the jeep over and got as far as he could in the lawn before he had to stop and turn off the engine. He took his pistol and holstered it as he stepped on the long-grown grass. He stepped on what appeared to be an overgrown, neglected path that led into the building itself. The plantation building was large as that of a small mansion. There was no activity, nothing.

“Why am I stopping to check this place out?” he asked himself out loud as he shook his head. “There is nothing here but this big house. I feel…….like I know this place. I can’t explain it.”

He stepped onto the porch. The wood creaked and groaned as his weight shifted on it. Nature was claiming this place and doing an excellent job at it. The wood was falling apart, and the windows and glass were falling off of it.

Thomas thought to himself as he remembered some of his historical readings before coming here. Liberia, when it was first founded, had little to nothing that they grew. The freed Africans that moved here became known as the ‘Americo-Liberians.’ They only consisted of about five percent of the area's population while the rest were the local indigenous population. The Americo-Liberians suffered greatly when they moved in. A massive portion died from disease and was afraid of the local people at the same time. The Americo-Liberians were raised with what they knew even if they were initially enslaved by white men. When they settled in the city of Monrovia, they embraced the ways of the South of the United States and began to farm the land heavily. This abandoned plantation would be an example of one of those ancient farms where grain or pepper, such as the abundant melegueta pepper, would be grown. This was both a good and a bad thing.

He stepped up to the door, and it was already open. He could already see inside of the plantation mansion as it revealed nothing but a shell of what it was initially like. There was no furniture in the home, the wood was falling apart, and it was an empty husk of what it was. His thoughts continued. The Americo-Liberians began to view themselves as more civilized and even superior to the indigenous population. They were the ones that were rich, literate, and with the ways, they were raised, the enslaved essentially became the enslavers. This form of practice of mistreatment of the local population would set a precedence for everything that was happening now. If you were in 1855 in Liberia, it would almost be like the South of the United States prior to the civil war. Even the homes and buildings all looked like you were taking a wagon down South Carolina.

Thomas felt a wave of new thoughts rush his head as he thought of South Carolina. He looked around the place some more. There was no need to be in this building, no need to be here, and even he could not explain what was happening.

“Why do I feel like I have been here?” he said out loud. “That is not possible; I was born and grew up in the United States. I was never here. This is my first time being in Liberia before, yet……it’s like I lived in this home before. It can’t be possible. I must be going insane, but I feel a sort of nostalgia for some reason.”

Thomas went and covered his arms as if he felt a cold chill run down his back. He was feeling more fear, and he could not bear to be in the mansion anymore. He walked out of the mansion and quickly got back in his jeep. He took a look at the mansion again as he turned the key and started up the jeep again.

“Why did I stop here?..... Why do I feel fear when I come into this place? Maybe it’s why no one is using this home. Maybe it’s cursed. I need to continue.”

He unholstered his pistol again and put it on the passenger seat again in case he needed it quickly again. He put the jeep in reverse as he got back to the main dirt road. He put the car on automatic and hit the gas pedal, leaving a small amount of dust as the vehicle sped forward. He came here for answers, and it was only leaving him with more questions.

“Just like the last time, Thomas,” he said to himself.

He was hoping not to get in a firefight. He couldn’t fight five and a truck armed with a machine gun with just one lone pistol. He went and lifted his hand and pointed forward past them. They were about to check him out further, but their eyes saw the brown streak of paint on his jeep. They seemed to calm down, and they waved their hands to him to indicate they could pass.

“Good,” he said to himself as he put his foot to the gas pedal lightly. The jeep slowly passed the truck and the men. Hopefully, he believed that the further he left from Monrovia, the less likely he would have to keep stopping at checkpoints. This was the fifth checkpoint in one hour. They made sure that enemy forces were not getting a chance to flee or regroup even with the temporary ceasefire. He could understand their reasons, but it is nerve-racking each time.

The wind blew in his hair and hat as before as the trees, plants, occasional house, and occasional people passed by his fast-moving jeep. He was holding an adequate speed of about fifty miles per hour. The last checkpoint was nothing but a speck on his rearview mirror. Unhindered, he could reach his destination by the later afternoon day, but these detours he was making were slowing down his progress.

“Hmmm…” Thomas noticed on the right of his driving. He noticed the passing trees were a different group of trees altogether. These were a very unique and common tree in Liberia, especially on this road.

Unlike places like Sierra Leone that struck pay dirt with diamonds and other valuable metals, Liberia had nothing essentially but whatever they could grow. The nation was impoverished for a long time. It could barely afford the luxuries that others had. Debt was a constant threat as Liberia was always asking other countries for loans. The United States, seeing Liberia as an ally in Africa with European nations carving Africa up for their own, would occasionally help Liberia out. It was a sort of base in Africa during World War I, if one would call it that. US Navy ships would see it as a stopping point if need be while going around Africa. There was even a case when a German submarine threatened Liberia by blockading the coast. US naval ships would go and chase it off once Liberia declared war on Germany in 1917. Liberia would also be helped in its internal conflicts against indigenous populations as the United States would sell arms to the Americo-Liberians at a low price.

After the Great War, a significant moment occurred in 1926 when Firestone bought a big lease on Liberia. With the growing demand for cars, the need for rubber tires was ever-increasing. Liberia, like many of the West African nations, had access to rubber trees. The bark could be stripped from the trees as a white latex would bleed out, which could be harvested to make rubber. This could be done to the trees repeatedly, making a healthy renewable resource to make and export rubber. Before the civil war and now, the Firestone Company is partnered with the Liberians in the making of rubber. Fifty percent of Liberia’s exports is this one single resource. In the United States alone, up to ten percent of the rubber used comes from Liberia, helping to pull the nation out of debt. During the Civil Wars, Firestone did its best to survive in Liberia like everyone else. It tried to negotiate with Charles Taylor and keep itself going, even when attacked and harassed by forces around it. Workers hold fast that their environment changes around them as they continue to work in the rubber plantations.

Thomas’s jeep continued its speed as rubber tree after rubber tree passed by his car like large fence posts. Some plantations had rubber trees adequately spaced out. He knew he was traveling by a plantation by the ways the trees were spaced alone. There were occasional plantations that did not regulate how they grew their trees, and it would look like a typical forest. For this place, he knew where he was at.

Thomas chuckled. “Funny……now that I think of it, I should have lied and told the checkpoints that I work for Firestone. It would have been even less of an issue and easier to convince them. Once I get past this point, though, it does not matter. Once I reach the town of Gabarnga, the halfway point to Yekepa, I will be safe, or at least I hope. It must be there….I know there is something there.”

He took one of his hands from the steering wheel and stuck it into his pocket. He pulled out a small tin coin. On it was a symbol. He took a brief look at it while his attention was on the road. It depicted the gold Solar Cross or the Sun Cross, one of the oldest known religious symbols to exist in mankind. At each of the points that led to the circle was an area where the lines were the thickest. This would naturally fade out as the complete circle was drawn around the cross. It was almost as if the sun cross might have been something else entirely. It also had a small saying on the cross that was adequately etched in the smallest font he ever saw. Written in Latin were the words “Deorum est,” which stands for “The gods exist.”

“They do exist…..” he said as he put the coin back in his pocket. “The gods exist, mythical creatures exist, they all exist. They are here even in this war-torn nation. They are here, and I will find them…….”

“I slept all night…….” She commented quietly to herself. She went and checked herself on the bed. She was so tired, and at the same time, her body ached from running so hard from the day before. She had a chance to rest, though, and that helped her. There was more fruit on the table as she got out of bed that she could eat. She quickly grabbed another apple and began to eat it. She did not notice that the door had opened and closed behind her.

“How are you, my child?” the same calm voice came from behind her. She turned around as she quickly swallowed her piece of apple. It was the same distinct bald man dressed as a Buddhist monk that happily greeted her.

She nodded, almost scared at first but quickly calmed down when she realized it was him.

“Don’t be nervous young one. I mean you no harm,” All told her.

She was quiet at first as she held the apple in her hand. “Thank you……All for giving me refuge in your home.”

“You are more than welcome here, Zoe,” All replied.

Zoe could still see a glowing aura come from him. It was faint but it was there. It was harder to see it with the sunlight coming in but it was there nonetheless.

“You are glowing, All,” she told him.

The monk kept his smile. “Truly a rare gift you have. So few have your ability. One in a hundred thousand has your ability, and most that see this aura usually say nothing when they see somebody that gives it off.”

She tried to shake off her emotions as she went and had a seat on the bed again. Her half-eaten apple was still clutched to her hand.

“You are in pain, my child,” All calmly noted to her. “Tell me what is happened, and maybe it will help.”

She began to cry. Her mental anguish had caught up to her. “I…..I have nowhere to go. The village just north of here has been overrun, and my brother was murdered. I was taken as a captive, trained in combat to fight for the local warlord. I was raped last night…..”

All, unfazed by her emotions and keeping a peaceful frame of mind, spoke to her. “You are here. You are welcome here, my child, just as I have given refuge to the boy and his family and the few inhabitants still in this village of New Bapa. No harm will come to you. I can keep you fed, but I can’t heal your mental scars. You must do that for yourself, child.”

She nodded as she bit into her apple some more.

All chuckled a bit. “I am afraid that all I have is fruit. I have plenty for you.”

She wiped her tears as she swallowed. “Thank you, All. Thank you,”

The monk walked up to Zoe and put his hand to her head. She felt some sort of energy flood into her from him. She felt more confident and relaxed like she was filled with some kind of warmth from him. He closed his eyes and tried to measure something from her, then he backed a bit from her.

“What……what are you?” Zoe asked him as she bit into the apple.

“My name is All, my child,” the monk quietly responded.

Zoe gave up on trying to figure out who he was. Her hunger was more important than anything else. All went and relaxed a bit on the bed the boy initially slept. Zoe finished up her apple, and the core remained as she opened up the door and threw it into the forest. She walked back into the house.

“It is bigger on the inside than outside,” she commented to him.

“Aren’t all houses seem bigger on the inside than the outside?” All asked.

“I…..yeah…..but it is really bigger on the inside,” she decided to change the subject. “How did you get here? I have never seen a man like you before.”

“I am a wandering monk, my child. I wanted to relax in a beautiful place, and I found it here out by the mountain in this land you call Liberia. Have you ever stopped to look at your forests?”

She had a disturbed look as she tried to respond. “It is…..pretty. How did you survive not being killed out here?”

He almost gave no response to her. He simply just smiled. “I simply say no to violence, Zoe. It will save you being here in my home by doing the same.”

She thought to herself as she looked at the simple man. The answer was not satisfactory to her, but if he has made it this long out here, what would she argue with his beliefs? Nonetheless, it seemed like he was avoiding the answer. She could still hear distant wind chimes even though there was nothing around her that was generating it.

“How did they not kill you when the warlord took over this region?” she asked.

He had made his answer already. The man simply smiled at her.

“Let me ask you this, Zoe. What do you see from me besides this aura I am generating?”

“I see a man dressed in red robes. I thought that you were a white man at first, but you don’t look like a white man. I never saw a man like you before.”

The monk responded back “That is because I was born in Pakistan, my child. It is far east of here.”

She did not know enough geography to know where that nation was, but she did understand the fact that he was not European. It would explain his complexion and looks to her.

She put her hand to her head as horrible thoughts entered into her head. The day before came back to her to haunt her. She closed her eyes as she tried to shake off the thoughts. The pain served as a constant reminder as well. All was watching her as she was trying to shake her bad thoughts away.

“There is much suffering in you, child,” All commented to her. “Let me try to help you out. Let us meditate together; it will help clear your mind of your thoughts.”

“They……they did……,” were her only words. She didn’t cry, she kept her composure, but she was acting like she was in physical pain.

All nodded to her. “I know what it’s like, my child. I have seen plenty of it. You seem to be handling it better than most. Let me help you.”

The monk extended his hand to her. Finally, she opened her eyes to see his hand outstretched to her to take. She reached out her hand and felt his. Again there was some sort of energy that was coming from him. It was that warm energy she felt before. She paused for a bit as she looked again at him. The aura was still there, but she had no idea what it was that she was seeing.

“Come to my shrine,” The monk explained. “We will kneel to the statue of Buddha. I know you don’t believe in it, my child, but getting a chance to meditate will help you out nonetheless. You are in a safe place; no harm will come to you while you are with me. Remember that.”

“……ok,” were her only words as she got up and walked with him with their hands interlocked. They walked around the small table and up to the small shrine. There in front of them was the small golden statue of a man. The Buddhist statue depicted a rather skinny man in a relaxed sitting pose. Her thoughts changed as they transfixed on the figure.

All released her hand as he went and sat down by the statue. She went and followed suit as well.

“Where is that…..music coming from that I hear? Those sounds of……chimes?” she asked.

All simply looked at her. “Do you feel better hearing it? I can stop it if it is causing problems for you.”

She shook her head. “It’s ok…..I heard it all night. It felt…..nice.”

“You were fighting nightmares last night,” the monk commented. “I know you are in pain, my child. It does not take much to know you are suffering.” All’s eyes transfixed on the statue as he sat cross-legged. “You know Buddhists always got it wrong about him. He was never fat. He was, but a simple man in a world that is much like it is around us. He was skinny at times, near death because he ate so little. When I first met him, he surprised me so much.”

Zoe’s eyes looked at the statue. “Who is he? I never seen a shrine dedicated to this person before.”

“I imagine you haven’t. I have only been here for so long. I am not here to spread the word about him. I came here to meditate and enjoy your wonderful environment.”

“A world of violence and bloodshed,” she commented.

The monk turned to look at her. “Have you looked at your forests? Have you looked at the animals here? Have you looked at the good individuals around you? I know what it is like to live in those environments. I have seen the violence and suffering inflicted by people. Even in these times around you, there is still harmony.”

Zoe was a bit dismissive. It was understandable from her perspective as she was used to her environment. She had been running, escaping her captors the day before, and here she was in this sanctuary of some sort.

“I still don’t feel safe…..nothing feels truly safe,” she added.

All put his hand on her shoulder. “I will teach you how to relax, my child. Through meditation, I can help put your mind at ease even after what they did to you.”

“I shot and killed a man yesterday. He tried……he tried to force himself on me. I ran as fast as I could to this small village not far from here.”

“You were both suffering. You were trying to escape from all of it. You are safe here, my child,” All replied.

“You keep saying that. What is stopping them from kicking the door in and shooting us dead in the spot?”

“Themselves.”

She gave a questioning look at him. “What is stopping that child that slept here from slitting our throats while we sleep?”

“Himself. He was not committed to those actions. He wanted to relax and not worry about others trying to hurt his family. His grandmother is all that is left. He was trying to protect her in this mostly abandoned village.”

“I don’t have my gun,” she remarked.

“You won’t need a weapon of violence here. I promise you that.”

She kept quiet unconvinced of his words. She still felt the calming effects of the atmosphere around her.

All focused his attention on the statue as he spoke to her. “What if we live in a world where myths were real?”

She focused her attention on the statue as well. She had no reply to the question. She did, however, decide to follow suit and sit cross-legged like he was doing.

“What if we lived in a world where the gods exist, Zoe?”

Again she had no honest answer to his question. She had her own beliefs, and she was not ready to share them. His aura was still there, with a never-ending light to her eyes.

“What do you believe?”

“I believe…..no…..I can’t answer that, All. Who are you? I have been to this village before and I never seen you before. How did you get past not getting killed or harmed by the others? This village is mostly empty now, yet here you are.”

All’s eyes were closed. “Relax, my child. Close your eyes.”

Zoe almost sighed as she followed his words. She closed her eyes. Within a few seconds, all she could hear were the distant wind chimes. She saw nothing but blackness.

“Good,” he said very calmly. “Now take a deep breath.”

She took a deep breath. She felt her lungs be filled with air as her lungs took every amount of oxygen that she could.

“Now…..exhale.”

She did as she was instructed as she breathed outward. She exhaled fully.

“Again.”

She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.

“In and out, my child. Let the sounds of the distant chimes fill your mind with ease.”

She repeated the steps several times. Her mind would sometimes be filled with bad thoughts, but she slowly began to calm down each time she did.

The monk put his hands together and watched her as she was putting her mind at ease.

“Picture your mind in the forest, picture a deep wind hitting you. You smell the forest, the wildlife; there is nothing there but you.”

Zoe tried to picture being outside. She imagined the trees, sitting on the grass, listening to the animal life out there.

All took his clasped hands and aimed his palm towards her body. He began to focus.

“Open your eyes, Zoe.”

She opened her eyes, and she was precisely where she pictured. It almost startled her. She was in the deep forests. She could feel the heavy wind hitting her body. She could hear the distant signs of wildlife. She stood up as she looked around her.

“How is this possible?” she asked.

<You are the one doing this, my child,> he said as he continued his focus on her. The palm of his hand was still focused on her in the monastery of his home. She was still there next to him. She, on the other hand, was somewhere else.

He was nowhere present, yet she felt that he was nearby. The words she heard filled her environment.

<Behold the power of the human mind, Zoe,> All explained to her. <You were the one that put yourself here. No one is here but you. This is you.>

She smiled as she looked around. “It feels real. I feel everything around me like I am here.”

<Do you enjoy the chimes earlier?> he asked.

“Yes.”

<Picture those chimes. Think of the harmonic sounds you heard earlier.>

She did as she was instructed. She focused her thoughts, and she started to listen to the chimes in the distance.

<You control this environment. This is your place. Nothing can bring harm to you. You are safe here. This is the world of Zoe, a place of peace and tranquility.>

“You are not human……to have such power as this.”

<I am doing very little, my child.>

“I see this glow come from you. I feel something going into me. I just don’t know what it is.”

<Your abilities are very good, Zoe. So few humans have this ability, the ability of “sight” and being able to see who we really are.>

“Then…..who are you really? You have been so kind to me. You fed me and sheltered me last night. I can never thank you enough for your kindness.”

<Hmmm….it has been some time since I have told anyone who I really am. I am a traveling Buddhist monk that has found the beautiful countryside of Liberia. I have found peace to meditate and think of the environment around me.>

She cocked her head. “That still does not explain to me who you are. I wish I knew who you are.”

<Would that make you feel better? To know who I am?>

She nodded, “Yes. I don’t mean to dig into you or cause you displeasure for your kindness.”

<You will, my child. You will learn who I am. For now, focus your thoughts on this environment. Put your mind at ease.>

She sighed as she walked up to a tree, turned around, and sat down cross-legged. She put her back to the tree as she could feel the bark press against her back.

<Now close your eyes and breathe deeply again. Exhale as before. Do it again and again.>

She did as she was instructed. Her vision went black as her eyelids closed again. She began to take her deep breaths and exhaled as before. She felt her mind and body began to relax. The distant sounds of the chimes could still be heard.

All took the palm of his hand and put both of them together again in a meditative stance next to Zoe. He focused his mind as he closed his eyes.

<Open your eyes again, Zoe.>

She opened her eyes to see All in a meditative sitting position similar to hers in the forest. The monk himself was sitting calmly as she was.

“I always put myself here when I meditate,” the monk told her.

She watched as he took his hands and turned his palms up, and rested them on his knees. He then took his index and middle finger and put them on his thumbs for each hand as he straightened his back.

“Rest here, Zoe. This is your sanctuary. You are safe here.”

She looked at him as she began to breathe and exhale deeply. “Thank you for everything.”

The monk that kept his eyes closed simply smiled in return.

“This is where I have the biggest problem,” he said to himself.

This town was supposedly controlled by Charles Taylor’s forces. He knew that if they saw his jeep with the brown stripe on it, then he risked getting shot. If he could simply try to get past this town, he should make it to Yekepa. Hopefully, the cease-fire message reached these folks, or otherwise, he could be dead. He could try to go around it, but the small dirt roads were dangerous not by the people but because of the hazards. Single lane dirt roads not taken care of due to war and collapsed infrastructure made for hazardous travel. Makeshift bridges could barely even hold a car, and whatever untold hazards made that choice a poor one. He could already feel how bad the main dirt road was just getting to here. The jeep was taking a beating, and he didn’t know if it can continue going into areas that were not even really mapped. He was going to have to do this. He had to drive into Gbarnga. Negotiation was the only hope in getting through.

He kept an eye on his pistol on his seat. He knew that he was going into a hornet’s nest. He put his foot on the gas pedal and shifted it into forward gear.

The jeep drove up to the outer city limits. The green forests surrounded the town, much like the other towns, he drove by. He approached slowly so as not to aggravate anyone or have anyone make the wrong choice.

As he got closer and closer at a twenty mile an hour speed, he could see men with assault rifles looking at him. One of the trucks had a machine gun on it with a person pointing it at him. There was a small makeshift barricade at the front leading into the town.

He had one hand on his steering wheel and the other hand holding it up to indicate that he wanted to talk and to signal to them to “hold their fire” at him.

A man with a dark complexion, much like all the Liberians, approached him. He wore sunglasses, a brown ribbed hat, a redshirt, and blue jeans. He was holding an AK-47 in his hand as he held up his hand to signal him to stop. By now, Thomas’s jeep came to a crawl as he was staring down multiple gun barrels. One wrong move and he would be riddled with gunshot wounds.

“What are you doing out here, white man?” he asked with a thick West African accent. By now, he was used to hearing the accent.

“I need to get past,” Thomas explained as his jeep was at a dead stop. He did not turn the engine off as the engine made a small hum. “I work for LAMCO, and I came to investigate if the mining could be resumed and made operational.”

The man with the sunglasses was looking at the gunner on the truck as he briefly lifted them to look at his hood. Thomas noted that part of his left eye was slashed but healed. He turned his head to look at a small home that had dead bodies that flowed out from its entrances. Flies circled the corpses. Some were stripped bare of clothing, beheaded, or mutilated in one way or another. The house was some sort of dumping spot. He did not have time to think about what happened to those people.

The man shook his head. “Turn around and go back while you can.”

“I swear to you that I am just trying to get past……”

The man interrupted Thomas as he slammed his hand on his hood. “Liar, you work for the Rebels. You are trying to recon this area! Turn around now!” The machine gunner had both of his hands on the gun, ready to fire at him.

Thomas took a quick look at the trucks and where they were at. They were perched by the walls of the houses. The barricade, while it covered up the road, was still open enough for him to drive around it if need be.

He thought quickly to himself as he watched the man with the rifle. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to reach his destination. He knew this was a suicide mission. If he floored it and went around the barricade, he might still get the surprise on them. The barricade and the house walls could temporarily shield him from the trucks. The one catch, though, is the machine gunner. He needed to do something about it.