The best Easter Sunday ever

By Jeff Hage (Contact) | The Daily Journal

Published Friday, March 28, 2008

Since I was a little boy Easter Sunday has been one of my favorite days of the year.

My dad also put a ridiculous amount of time into wrapping jelly beans into little pouches of wax paper and hiding them for myself and four siblings to find.

I’ve searched and found my share of Easter treasures over the years. I’ve found even more while raising my three boys and creating their own Easter memories.

But it wasn’t until last Sunday, at 44 years old, that I found my proverbial “golden egg.”

That’s the day I sat at my father-in-law’s dinner table sharing Easter Sunday with family.

Joining us at the table was someone who had become a close friend — someone I thought I might never see again.

But that changed on Good Friday when I checked my office e-mail. I’m in the process of hiring a news reporter and had a peculiar “hit” on an ad I was running on a national journalism jobs database.

“Hello from Minneapolis,” the e-mail read.

I opened it with curiosity. But soon that curiousity turned to complete joy. It was from Semantics King, Jr., a journalist from Liberia who my wife and I hosted in the summer of 2006 during a foreign journalist exchange program.

Semantics, who once hosted a radio program in Liberia that shared views different from the Liberian government, came to us after being exiled to a refugee camp in Ghana where he sought refuge after being left for dead at the hands of government officials after one of his radio programs.

In early 2007, Semantics’ fellowship programs had come to an end and he returned to Africa. His newspaper folded, leaving his e-mail links dead. I moved to Fergus Falls, leaving his e-mail link to me at The Chippewa Herald dead, as well.

It appeared these two journalist friends may never find each other again.

But we were saved by a job opening.

As I explained, I received an e-mail from Semantics on Good Friday after he saw my job posting.

I was relieved, but concerned by his message.

“Well, the United States granted me asylum because the guy who killed my father in Liberia is in the Liberian senate currently as senior senator, and those who attempted to kill me after my radio show in Harbel are still around and searching for me. Therefore, the United States government granted me asylum to live and work in this country indefinitely.”

Semantics was safe and sound. I called him immediately and invited him to Easter dinner in Burnsville. I picked him up in Brooklyn Center Sunday morning. My wife, three boys and myself shared a great reunion with the Liberian man who refers to himself as my son and friend.

His story of the day his life was threatened has always made me respect the commitment Semantics made to journalism. Here’s his story as told to me in August 2006:

The radio went silent. Moments earlier, Semantics King, Jr. had signed off for the evening and a quiet calm had now fallen over Monrovia, Liberia.

But there was no calm outside the little radio station.

King should have anticipated what was about to happen next. He had a warning in the form of an anonymous letter that suggested that he should stop broadcasting his radio talk show if he wanted to live.

A few days earlier King had hosted a program on the role of security in Liberia. The discussion centered on a rebel attack near the Liberian airport, where a number of young girls were raped. Many were left for dead.

A few days later he received the letter warning him to cease his radio program.

A few days later King heard rumors that his government’s security force was looking for him. He contacted a commander within the force and was assured no one was looking for him.

But on April 11, 2000, King learned otherwise. He also learned that presenting views over the airwaves of Liberia would change his life forever.

King had just broadcast his talkshow, “Others Views.” It was the last program of the night, so he signed off and closed up the station before going home.

As he walked home, five men approached King. “He’s the guy. Let’s get him,” one of the men said.

One man slashed King in the arm with a knife. He was severely beaten. A bullet from a gun pierced his leg.

He nearly lost consciousness as the attackers dragged his beaten and tattered body through a rubber tree plantation.

That’s when King met his saviors — a group of environmentalists from Firestone’s Plant Protection Department (PPD) charged with protecting the American tire company’s plantation of rubber tree plants.

They rescued King from his captors, telling him that Liberia was not a good place for him.

Fearing that government officials were waiting for King at his home so they could kill the young journalist, the PPD whisked King off to the country’s border and instructed him to flee to Ghana.

He had no money and was forced to leave behind every bit of clothing and personal possessions he owned.

King became a Liberian refugee in Ghana, where he founded a free newspaper and corresponding online publication dedicated to bringing news to the more than 40,000 Liberian refugees living in Ghanese refugee camps. He remained a refugee in Ghana until being granted asylum by the United States in August 2007.

When Semantics called me on Good Friday it made me think about a story he told me in the summer of 2006 — a story about how he re-established contact with his mother 15 years after being separated from her during a Liberian civil war.

In 1991, King’s father. a military man, lived east of the capital city of Monrovia. King’s mother and three siblings lived about 40 miles south of the capital in Harbel, a city established by Firestone, where his mother was a nurse on the Firestone compound working for a modest wage and regular supplies of parboiled rice to feed her family.

King, only 13 years old, was living in Monrovia where he was going to school because his parents wished for him the best education possible.

The civil war in Liberia was escalating. Rebels captured the city on the outskirts of Monrovia, where his father lived. His father was arrested by rebels, who later killed him. King learned the news on a visit to see his father.

King immediately traveled to Harbel to tell his mother the tragic news. He wanted to stay with his family and care for them. His mother insisted he return to Monrovia and continue his education.

In October 1992, the civil war heightened. Rebels were attempting to capture the palace in Monrovia, but the lines were pushed back all the way to Harbel, a city that had generally been left alone because it was established by an American company.

When the fighting subsided, King traveled to his hometown to check on his people.

He assumed his family was dead because family photographs and meaningful belongings were left in the rubble of his home.

His spirit was crushed. He realized he was all alone.

For 15 years, King believed his mother and siblings were dead. But in December 2005 he learned that he was an orphan no more.

That fall, Liberian refugees began returning to their homeland. Many took with them copies of King’s newspaper, The Vision.

To King’s surprise, he received a phone call one December day. On the other end of the line was his mother, who came across a copy of The Vision in Harbel.

The two have not been reunited, but communicate by letter and telephone. His mother is thrilled Semantics is safe and sound.

So am I.

To learn that Semantics was in Minnesota warmed my heart.

There was no better Easter gift than to know that my “fourth son” was just a short 2.5 hours from my new home in Fergus Falls and safe on American soil starting a new life of his own in Brooklyn Center.

Jeff Hage is the managing editor of the Daily Journal. He can be reached at jeff.hage@fergusfallsjournal.com.