The Lost City of Bong Town
I always hear from Liberians, “Oh
this place used to be fine before the war.” or “The war spoiled
this whole area.” And they say these things in other places like
Kakata and Careysburg. And I nod silently and think “Uh huh.
Maybe.” But when Arthur Barclay told me that my home during the
last 17 months used to be called “Germany” or “Small America”
I had to question him.
“Small America?” I ask. “This is
Bong Mines. I've seen most all of Bong Mines.” He shook his head
fiercely and rebuked my words. “But have you seen Bong Town?” I
looked at him a bit confused. Bong Mines...Bong Town...are they not
the same thing? Arthur took me on a long Sunday walkabout and showed
me as he explained.
Bong Mining Company (BMC) was started
and operated by the Germans. It began sometime in the 1950s. Arthur
was born in Handii the village one hour north of the mine. He went to
work for BMC in 1973 and was working there 15+ years until the war
started. The mine was large, and I've found a few aerial photos
online of it. The pellet plant, the conveyor belts, the crusher
(which crushed rock) and the railroad. Nearly all of which took
extensive damage during the war. The area was filled with heavy
equipment, fine items, and large trucks. Who wouldn't want to capture
that for their side during the war? My point exactly. The area was
captured and recaptured over 50 times during the course of the civil
war. Over 50 times can do a lot of damage. Then add in looters,
scrapers, natural storms, and untouched vegetation growth for about
twenty years. The place looks very different now.
The mining equipment is in horrid
shape, and all the metal has been stripped to be sent away to be
melted down. Even the cement is still being taken to build houses
elsewhere. Only large foundations still remain and even those are
falling apart. I've seen the mine. I've seen the old pellet plant and
the crusher. I had not seen Bong Town.
Bong Mines was the 'camp' area.
Holding many compartment style houses for mine workers. It is located
on my side of town, the area that I now live in. Everything to the
right side of the main road in my town was Bong Town. This was were
the international staff lived as well as the officers and high
ranking Liberian staff. Bong Town was the ritzy part of town and
you'll read why soon enough. Bong Town was looted as well during the
war just like other areas...but instead of being inhabited like the
other compartment style houses in Bong Mines, they were eventually
left abandoned. Forgotten.
Often times I had looked down that
shabby coal-tar road from the main road that ran past the
German-built hospital, but never before ventured down that way. I
never really saw Liberians go there, and the place seemed to lead to
know where. A dead end. No, Arthur tells me. “Bong Town is in
there.” In there? I think. Where? It's all bush... It looks like an
untamed jungle to me.
And Bong Town is an untamed
jungle....with the skeletons of a town that was once so beautiful.
Arthur took me through Bong Town that cool Sunday morning. We walked
down that narrow coal-tar road I'd always overlooked. The road was
black, with a sparse pot holes here and there. The farther in we
went, the farther I seemed to leave Bong Mines behind, and enter this
completely different world. To a quick glace, the road and
surroundings appeared to look like a random paved road in the dense
jungle...but upon closer inspection...you could see it. The slivers
of gray and decaying houses poking through the green jungle. It was
like a game. Can you spot the building remains through the thick
jungle forest? Can you only see the tops of the buildings? Do you see
the doors? Windows? Driveways and bathroom tiles? It was like being
in an abandoned Jurassic Park after the dinosaurs and wilderness took
over. But at least here, I did not see any dinosaurs...but I'm not
ruling out the possibility. :)
There were over 200 houses in here.
All with nice bathrooms, running water, electricity, television sets,
and of course they all had air conditioning. A few even had snazzy
European cars parked outside them. Now, only the cement walls remain.
Even the zinc roofing and wood was stolen to be re-sold. And some of
these houses are even loosing there cement walls to Liberian builders
in the area who do not want to spend extra money on buying cement
blocks for their building projects. Those cement blocks, which look a
lot like the pile my landlady has been accumulating are surely the
same blocks that were pieced together to make the very house I now
live in. My house, I just realized, is made from old blocks from Bong
Town. Taken illegally, but who's really doing any enforcement? And
Bong Town isn't being used for anything now....Liberians probably do
not see it as stealing.
So the tour has more meaning now as I
know my house was once parts of Bong Town. Maybe as part of the head
security officer's house, the Austrian economics teacher's house, or
the head operations office building. The ghost houses of residential
Bong Town were garnished with Y-shaped driveways, small cobblestone
walls, and remnants of backyard gardens. Trees thicker than 10 inches
were growing there. Vines that curled in and around windows, and
roots that wound around doorways to reach soil on the other side were
everywhere. I felt like Laura Croft in tomb raider as I ducked under
a thick mass of roots to see inside what was once a living room
(though I've very glad that old house was not booby trapped).
I saw the large flat expanse that was
once a golf course. It hadn’t accumulated too many trees since it
was cleared in such a large amount. As Arthur and I left residential
Bong Town and continued on, I was informed that there were many other
things here...not just a golf course. We picked our way through the
dense bush to the recreational area of Bong Town. Now, the bush was
so thick, I couldn't see it all unless I brought a cutlass. But I did
see the nearly Olympic-sized pool, tennis court (all three of them)
and the shower/locker rooms. Arthur pointed out the direction of the
basketball court, bowling lanes, and shooting range. Is your mouth
hanging open slightly right now? Mine was too...all day. Arthur also
took me to the casino/club that was overlooking the tennis courts,
bowling alley, and pool. The club I'm told was tricked out with six
by twelve foot windows and a large bar. I closed my eyes and tried to
picture this place before the war. I'd get a gin and tonic and stand
by the large windows to watch the tennis match. Or I could move to
the side room which held the VIP bar (still slightly visible) and
hang out on a plush couch and watch any sports game on the multiple
televisions mounted on the wall.
I opened my eyes to see the sunlight
streaming through the jungle and open ceiling into the VIP bar area
where I still stand....dazed. Arthur ducks his head through the
doorway as a tree's roots are consuming the top two feet of the
doorway. “Are you ready to see the reservoir?” He asks. I just
bob my head a little and follow him out of the club. As we turn back
down the road I look back at the club and wonder what the sign looked
like that must have hung outside....and how many different colors
used to shine over this road every night.
The reservoir held the clean water of
Bong Town and it's a pain to get there. Such a pain, I almost change
my mind halfway there. Even as I write this post to you now, my feet
are tingling and sore in various places. Turns out the reservoir is
not a frequently visited area and it's well overgrown. The jungle
rips and tears at my clothes and skin as we hike and I begin to wish
I'd worn close toed shoes. We have to jump over a few large ravines
in the road. It looks as though someone had dug up the road. Turns
out I'm right. “People come looking for copper piping and other
buried metals to take and sell.” Arthur puffs as he continues his
hike on up the hill. I follow, trying to match his pace and not get
too torn up by the thorny vegetation. We finally reach the reservoir
and I'm panting, bleeding from my jungle scratches and sweating like
hell. The entrance to the reservoir looks like a dungeon. There is a
little bit of light inside from the doorway and I can see two large
holes in the floor from scrap metal hunters. “What's over the
banister?” I ask Arthur. But before I let him answer I'm awed by
the booming echo of my own voice. I look over the banister as Arthur
joins me. “This is where the water was held...you can't see it
unless you have a flashlight.” Damn...I think. I didn't bring one.
I use my camera's flash with surprisingly good results. The bottom is
maybe thirty to forty feet down, completely drained and still rather
well intact. There is a shadowy staircase to my right, but we're out
of time for this place if we want to try and reach Bong Town School.
I get attacked by the vicious undergrowth as we hike back down to the
road, jumping over the ravines once again.
We pass another 'jungley spot' on the
way and Arthur tells me about the playground that used to be there
and how it was one of the nicest playgrounds he'd ever seen. It even
had a small carousel. I continue to follow him, still speechless and
busy taking pictures. Workers would drop there kids off here to the
daycare school and continue onto work. School buses ran along this
road carrying students; black, and white to Bong Town School...the
international school. My school, Bong Central High was used over in
the camp as a junior high and elementary school. Bong Town School was
the high school, filled with science lab equipment, international
teachers from dozens of countries, and a set of textbooks for every
student. Would I ever love to have seen that school back in the day.
Turns out, I won't be able to see it today. Arthur can't find a way
to it through the thick bush and we have no cutlass. “Next time.”
He says and I nod determined that I'll get to see more than just one
small outside wall of Bong Town School later. He tells me about the
school's quality instruction and that graduates of Bong Town School
got their placement tests waived if they chose to go on to University
of Liberia or Cuttington University. My principal, Ma MJ, used to work
at that school as did her husband Mr. Stewart.
Arthur takes me along one more
ambiguous road and tells me that it is the road to the supermarket.
Of course it is. I shake my head and follow. He stopped to point out
his old office to me. It looks like all the other old dilapidated
buildings of Bong Town but this one means a lot more. This was where
Arthur worked for years and years. Where he made a good living off of
about $850 USD per month, and his job was a mid-range paying job. He
told me of how there was a laundromat nearby (useful since he didn't
have a family in his early years working for BMC) and a sandwich shop
encase you didn't have time to make it to the mess hall.
I ask him if any returning BMC workers
from Germany go to see Bong Town when they revisit Liberia. He shakes
his head. I guess it's a little too sad for them to see. We're quiet
for some time and then I finally ask him if seeing all this makes him
sad too. He nods, still smiling. “Yes. We fought an ugly ugly war
here. The Liberian people did so many bad things to their country and
people.” He's somber, yet his smile wrinkles near his eyes are
crunched. Despite all this....unimaginable destruction and loss, he's
still happy. A trait of the Liberian people that will continue to
surprise me even after 17 months of living with their destroyed and
failing system. After loosing so much...after seeing so many horrible
war crimes...after surviving so many attacks...so many nights without
food....living in constant fear...and no end of the war in sight for
so many years. Arthur is alive...his wife and three children are
alive...and the war is over. There are many many things he is
thankful and happy about.
As for me, I'm honored to have Arthur
share his memory of this incredible place...this diamond in the
bush....the Lost City of Bong Town.