After talking with a friend about Christmas music this morning, my thoughts turned to another friend (who died too young), Richard Sondah. Richard was a former colleague, one of my heroes (for many reasons), and someone who, earlier in life, had been involved in the resistance that helped transform Liberia from a dictatorship to a democracy.
Richard also loved Christmas music.
As someone who should not be forgotten, I am writing this tribute to him as a small part of keeping his memory alive.
In the fall of 2006, when I still directed the Minnesota Coalition for the Homeless (MCH), I got a call from Richard, then a Hamline University grad student seeking a Master’s in Public Administration. Richard wanted to intern at MCH to learn more about the nonprofit sector. We soon met, and I asked Richard to help me make the case for increased funding for Minnesota’s homelessness prevention programs.
I remember that, early on, I invited Richard to accompany me to a meeting with the soon-to-be Minnesota House of Representatives majority leader, Tony Sertich. Rep. Sertich had often carried legislation for MCH, and I wanted Richard to hear why directly. During that meeting, Rep. Sertich was very personable, shared helpful tactical ideas, and offered suggestions on who would likely be a better author for our legislation now that his time would be more in demand. As Richard and I left, I could tell he was pretty impressed with Minnesota governance. He noted that such a meeting would never happen in his homeland.
I did not yet know Richard well. But I was a little rushed, so I didn’t ask about that statement. Instead, I gave Richard instructions on how he could help MCH make the case for prevention programs based on Rep. Sertich’s advice. In later products for the internship, his choice of written and spoken words hinted that he had a rare sense of how to boil things down to their bare essentials and find the core importance of an issue.
Upon completing his short internship, Richard said he would try to help more, but obligations back home made it so he couldn’t commit. (Richard was a leader in Minnesota’s Liberian community, and that leadership translated into the need for him to return to his home country periodically.) We said goodbye.
A month or two later, just as I was getting out of a meeting with a legislator, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. It noted the call was coming from Liberia. By this time, I knew that that was where Richard was from. Again, I was busy; I considered not taking the call, but how often does someone call you from Liberia? So I answered. Richard asked if, when he returned, he could again help MCH out. I told him I’d love that.
Over the next few months, Richard volunteered at the Coalition. I got to know him more. I came to respect his advice deeply.
Soon, MCH would have the funds to hire an Office Coordinator, and I felt Richard would make a good fit. He seemed to be a very intuitive guy. Several times, he had brief encounters with colleagues. Afterward, Richard would share his impressions of them and what he perceived were their motivations. His perception was often spot on. So, I hired him; I consider it one of my better decisions at the Coalition.
I remember once, while driving back from an MCH conference with Richard, he shared more of his story with me. He told me about the movement to democratize Liberia. He told stories about times when he had to go into hiding with others who were challenging Liberia’s corrupt dictatorship. More than once, Richard had to flee bullets and hide in dangerous terrain. He had lost some of his friends — and his pet dog — in the resistance.
He told me about the incredible — and once unimaginable — election of President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.
Richard told me about some of his work in Liberia after President Sirleaf was elected. He shared stories about serving as a soccer referee to help people learn about good rules and the rule of law. He told me a remarkable story about banding together church folk to challenge a corrupt local “leader.”
Truth be told, as I got to know Richard when he and I worked together, I began to see I was supervising someone who, in the larger scheme of things, was my superior. Again, his principles were challenged in a way many Americans will never grasp. At significant risk to his life and livelihood, he stood up for what he believed in.
When Ebola was ravaging Liberia, the outbreak there threatened this budding democracy for many, many reasons. Hundreds were dying. Thousands more are very sick. And fear-mongers are attempting to use the disease to divide the population and reintroduce corrupt ways.
Richard was called to help with the response. I read some of Richard’s Facebook posts about the struggles he was going through to keep himself, his community, and his country together, and it tore me up inside.
I asked Richard what I could do to help out. What is the ONE THING he needed/wanted America to do? I told him I would call my Congressperson, Senators, and the White House with whatever message he wanted me to relay. Richard said America must sustain its efforts to fight Ebola in Liberia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone. It must develop vaccines to eradicate Ebola and, in his words, “MAKE EBOLA HISTORY.”
As a gracious and self-reliant man, Richard appreciated what America had already done. It had sent troops and built treatment centers. According to Richard, the tide was turning for the better. I was happy to hear this.
I kept my promise to Richard. American Facebook friends and I called our Congresspersons, U.S. Senators, and the White House, sharing Richard’s words.
Future Facebook interactions with Richard were always a pick-me-up. But then the messages stopped. A while later, I learned that Richard had died. I became pretty sad: no more overseas calls with Richard, no more long visits at coffeehouses when he returned to Minnesota periodically, no more listening to his sage advice on the issues that were vexing me. But most of all, I would miss Richard’s company because to be with him was to be in the presence of humble greatness.
This Christmas, I miss Richard.
