John H.T. Stewart
It was a day and a wedding date to remember for never in recent memory in Liberia had such wedding taken place ever. It was perhaps also the only wedding where gate crashers outnumbered the invited guests.
Drinks of all kinds were at the ready, displayed on various tables in the living room of the Bong Mine Bridge home of the groom.
He had planned this wedding to honor his partner’s wish to officially tie the knot after more than twenty years living under the same roof and sharing the same bed.
This was his moment indeed as he weaved his way among tables ensuring that each table was supplied with adequate drinks. Hardly did he realize that within a few moments everything was about to change, a change that would have guests shaking and reeling with fright.
And then suddenly a loud bang sounded out followed by sustained bursts of automatic rifle gunfire. Within a twinkling of an eye everyone including the Pastor was on the floor.
“But my mehn you can’t postpone this wedding” shouted a guest to the groom which drew his instant response. ‘’but where you think I will get money from jes na to have this wedding again-should I let all this food to spoil”?
Meanwhile the flow of traffic between Bong Mine Bridge and Dorleh-Lah (Douala) had come to a grinding halt and turned into a frenzy with vehicle occupants streaming out of their vehicles running helter skelter in all directions seeking a safe place.
And without asking questions, some of them streamed directly into the living room where the wedding ceremonies were to take place over crowding the hall with their uninvited presence.
But the sustained intensity of gunfire and RPG explosions made it difficult to ask them out which would have proved difficult if not impossible.
Everyone was shaking with fright especially the Pastor. Lying flat on his stomach, he nervously tried to fish a cigarette from his pocket.
But to his consternation, along with the pack of cigarettes that came tumbling out of his pocket were two wraps of marijuana. He looked around nervously hoping, although unsuccessfully that his sudden stroke of “bad luck” went unnoticed as he with a deft swipe had the two wraps back into his pocket.
It must have looked funny to some but nobody could dare laugh because of the seriousness of the situation that filled just about everyone with anxiety.
The Pastor, having wiggled and squirmed his way to an open spot on the floor, then called out the bridal party who were all lying flat on their bellies on the floor.
Amid the bursts of gunfire sounds of explosions, he in quick fashion administered the vows and proclaimed the couple husband and wife leaving no space for remarks.
What was now left was the reception but since the room was overcrowded, it became difficult to distinguish invited guests from gate crashers. And so, the organizers came up with a clever idea.
Anyone suspected of being uninvited would be asked to tell how and from where they got to know the couple. Failure to answer satisfactorily meant two persons to a plate for uninvited guests while for invited guests one plate per individual. Everybody including waitresses was on the floor having their meal.
Meanwhile gunfire and sounds of explosions lasted throughout the night until the next morning before it subsided a bit.
By then word was out that rebel NPFL leader Charles Taylor had launched an armed invasion of Monrovia then protected by the Peacekeeping force, ECOMOG.
Later in a radio broadcast, Charles Taylor announced in a triumphant voice, “ I have ordered the strategic bombing of the Ducor”.
He was referring to a rocket attack on the Ducor Hotel seat of the Sawyer led Interim Government of National Unity (IGNU) but the missile short-landed on the home of one of his prominent supporters, Madame Dorothy Musuleng Cooper and reportedly killing two child occupants.
This was Operation Octopus allegedly masterminded by NPFL strategist General John T. Richardson whose code name was “Octopus”. Monrovia would never again be the same. Thousands would lose their lives and earthly possessions. Thousands would suffer internal displacement while hundreds would be abducted from their homes.
At the Carter Camp in Harbel, Firestone, over four hundred (400) persons were massacred by NPFL fighters and others abducted and taken to Gbarnga.
Little did I realize then that my home would be struck by a missile destroying portion of the building that left a child wounded with a piece of shrapnel lodged in her skull.
Today makes it thirty-two(32) years since that fateful day of October 15, 1992. Meanwhile, as former NPFL rebel and Liberian President Charles Taylor whiles the time away in a British prison having been convicted of war crimes committed in Sierra Leone, Liberians are gearing up and bracing for the establishment of a War and Economic Crimes Court.
Indeed, October 15, 1992, was a day to remember and the wedding, a Wedding to remember. Interestingly the Pastor who officiated at the wedding is today a judicial official. The names of the groom and bride as well as the Pastor and other in.
