By Omari Jackson
Liberians say the real parliament is not at Capitol Building — it’s by the fireside. Shelton Gonkerwon proves it in his poem, where he sits by the fire to roast corn, recall wisdom, and even draft “viable remedies.” Meanwhile, in our actual Legislature, we are still waiting for one remedy that can suppress the roaming poverty in this country.
Shelton claims the fire helps him “suppress the roving cold.” That line could easily double as a government budget speech. Every year, officials promise to chase away poverty. Yet somehow, the cold still finds its way into the homes of ordinary Liberians — while the leaders remain warm under foreign blankets.
He also sits by the fire to “brave the winging smoke.” That, too, sounds familiar. Every press conference begins with fine speeches, but before long, the smoke of corruption finds its way into the public’s eyes. When citizens cry, they’re told: “Don’t worry, it’s developmental smoke.”
Shelton recalls his father’s advice. In politics, that’s called a manifesto. Each election season, politicians recall their grandfather’s words: “Vote for me, I will bring light, roads, and jobs.” Yet once elected, the only reliable light in many villages is still the glow of the fireside.
And then there’s the dog. Shelton says he shares the fire with his “little dog.” In truth, that dog represents the average Liberian — loyal, patient, and waiting for crumbs of roast corn to drop. Sometimes we get a kernel. More often, we are left with only smoke.
Even Solomon appears in Shelton’s poem. He gazes “through Solomon’s eyes.” If our politicians attempted that, they would not see wisdom but fuel slips, allowances, and sitting fees.
The difference is clear. Shelton’s fireside produces poetry, proverbs, and inspiration. The fireside at Capitol produces noise, arguments, and endless committees for “further consultation.”
So perhaps the solution is simple: let’s move the entire Legislature to a real fireside in Duala or Red Light. No microphones. No air conditioners. Just smoke. Let us see which honorable man can deliver long speeches when the winging smoke begins to sting his eyes.
As Shelton himself reminds us:
“I love sitting by the fireside!!”
Maybe if the nation sat there together, the smoke would finally clear. Or at least, for the first time, the lawmakers would know how it feels when ordinary Liberians sit in the smoke while they keep all the corn.
