My Friend Alfred

There were many kids who hung around the Peanut Butter House site, and they were all great. But something about Alfred stood out to me. He’s probably about five and has a sweet smile. And, we understood each other, which to be honest was hard to come by. Even though the Liberians speak English, it can be really hard to understand! After a while, he said to me, “My pa is sick.” I asked him if his mom was alive and he said no. We’d been to a few orphanages by then and I just thought, “I do not want this boy to end up on his own.” I said maybe I could come see his pa one day to say hello. He said he didn’t live far so it was a date as far as I was concerned.

A couple of days later the opportunity came up to go to Alfred’s house. I decided that going along might not be the best idea, so Cindy and Chris came with me. We were also escorted by Abraham, another little boy who lives close by. We started to walk – past some houses, through a field, through a garden, past a school, past some more houses, up a hill … I guess Alfred’s idea of far and mine are different! Finally it became apparent where we were headed – to a burnt-out concrete building at the top of a hill. Honestly, it looked creepy.
The house on the hill is not actually where Alfred lives, but his house is just next to it and looks very similar.

We approached the house. It was three stories high, but completely gutted. No windows, doors, roof, or floors. All that was left was a concrete shell, blackened by the rains that fall in the summer. Alfred took us to where he lived – just one room – with his father Jerome. Jerome was healthy until about 8 months ago, when he fell (maybe he had a stroke?), and now he has lost feeling in half his body. I would guess Jerome is around 50-60, and Alfred has a brother and sister but they are both older than him and don’t live at home any more. So Alfred helps his father, he brings his cane and a small chair for Jerome to sit in while we visit. We said a prayer with him, and I could feel God working on me to do something to help.

About 2 or 3 other families are also squatters in this home. One of the women, Fatu, gave us the grand tour. The house must have been pretty magnificent before the civil war. It used to belong to Liberia’s former President Samuel Doe’s brother. Now the only decorations that remain are a few tiles in the bathrooms and some drawings on the wall. The drawings are of soldiers with large guns. Some of them have “boy” written above them. One looks like he is holding a knife and the head of a corpse that is by his feet. It says, “War in the city.”

A few of the kids who live in the house. 2nd from the left in pink is Abraham, and Alfred is in green next to him.

You can see the hardship in these people’s lives. Jerome can’t work anymore and can’t afford to send Alfred to school. Other boys living in the house have huge bellies from malnutrition. But they are all smiling and grateful to God for what they have today. Fatu was as hospitable as any woman wanting to welcome you to her home. Another older man who lives there took his machete outside and came back with 2 big sticks of sugar cane for us. And they have a poster of Barack Obama, who has brought great pride and hope to everyone we spoke to in Liberia.

After a while, we left but Alfred’s situation stayed on my heart the rest of the trip. The next day, I asked Christine for advice on the best way to help Alfred. Something hard to figure out while in Liberia was how to help people well. We have enough money to temporarily fix people’s problems, but setting up a pattern of sufficiency isn’t really the answer. She said she would go with me to see him and ask his father what we could do. So I know this is getting long so I will leave you in suspense for part two!
One of our gracious hosts showing us how he will get us some sugar cane! :)