In the 1500s, Europeans became consumed with a dark ambition: to descend upon Africa and seize its people. Their goal was simple and cruel--to capture Black men and women and transport them across the ocean to work plantations without wages, without rights, without humanity - for ages. What some initially dismissed as "only a European enterprise" soon captured the attention of Americans. Ruthless businessmen calculated the profits to be made from African labor, and so they joined the trade with fervor. Slave ships, fueled by greed, set their courses for the Dark Continent.
For four hundred long years, Americans--like their European counterparts--ripped able-bodied men and women from their homes and villages by the thousands. Their mission: to sell them at slave posts across the American South. Those who survived the wretched, suffocating conditions of the Middle Passage were subjected to degradation that stretched across four centuries. Four hundred years of the Black race being systematically broken. Four hundred years of being spat upon and torn open by the white man's whip. Four hundred years of racial slurs and name-calling. Four hundred years of being left to lie or to rot in sordid conditions, willy-nilly.
By the 19th century, when the slave population appeared to be growing beyond control, slave masters began to consider emancipation. This decision was not born of compassion, but of fear--fear of revolt, fear of the inevitable explosion. So a decree went forth: the "freed men of color" must be expatriated back to Africa. After much debate over where exactly to send them, the American Colonization Society (ACS) deemed Liberia a "suitable land in Africa for the resettling of the freed slaves." They acquired for them an eleven-acre island situated near the Du river, whose original name was Dozuah--later changed twice, first to Perseverance Island, then to Providence Island.
In 1822, the ships Elizabeth and Nautilus and other smaller ships made their way to Liberia, then known as the Green Coast, offloading nearly sixteen thousand freed men of color over a decade. Those voyages laid the foundation for what would eventually become the capital, Monrovia.
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THE FREED MEN AND SINOE
History gives only lukewarm acknowledgment to the fact that not all of the freed people remained at Providence Island. Some made their way to the southeast of Liberia, settling in the indigenous Kwa enclave of Sinoe. Some were received at Setra Kru; others pushed on to Greenville, later creating settlements at Louisiana, Blountsville, Lexington and Murrayville. For many, it was their first taste of freedom--their first breath of air untainted by the American slavery hegemony. These "new arrivals," now known as Americo-Liberians, soon formed a dominant cultural and political class in the region, bringing with them customs, architectural styles, laws and religious practices from the American South.
They called their new-found land "Mississippi in Africa." Soon, a clash of cultures set in, creating a chasm between the Americo-Liberians and their indigenous "land lords." The division deepened with time, inflamed by politics and class infighting, and lengthened by each side's need to assert superiority. These contests led to bitter ethnic feuds, resulting in the trading of such derogatory slurs as "Congo asses" and "Country asses."
But after a time, the Americo-Liberians and their indigenous brothers and sisters sought to put their differences aside and smoked the peace pipe. That peace led to the founding of Greenville, Sinoe's capital, on July 9, 1838. Greenville was named for Judge James Greene of Adams County, Mississippi, believed to have advocated for emancipation and a primary sponsor of the Mississippi-In-Africa colony.
Sinoe County--the Mississippi of Africa--soon earned respect throughout Liberia, becoming one of the three original counties of the commonwealth, alongside Montserrado and Grand Bassa. Sinoe, at the helm of the secretariat led by its son, Jacob W. Prout, the county worked alongside its fellow delegates to craft and co-sign Liberia into independence on July 26, 1847, making Liberia the first African nation to gain independence.
The document--chiefly scripted by Hilary Teague--was called the Declaration of Independence. It was signed by eleven brave men, one of whom--Richard E. Murray--hailed from Sinoe. The declaration told the world that the Americo-Liberians and their indigenous brothers and sisters, all summed up as the "people of Liberia," for the love of liberty and freedom, were severing relations with the ACS, wanting total unshackling from all remnants of slavery and servitude. For four hundred years, slavery had dimmed the Black man's destiny, and the Sinoeans--and other members of the commonwealth--wanted no part of it to show its ugly head in the land they now called home.
SINOE AND ITS MISSISSIPPI DAY CELEBRATION
The people of Sinoe--proud, free, and united--chose to celebrate their newfound unity and freedom. July 9, the day of their founding, became the chosen day. He day was set aside to make a testament to the world: like other humans, they had the right to make their own laws, choose their own leaders, collect taxes, and celebrate their own culture. For four hundred years, their children--and at least fifteen million others hacked out of African nations--had sung songs in strange lands. It was time they sang their own songs in their own land.
The day was dubbed "Mississippi Day," a throwback to the Mississippi plantations of the American South where most of the freed men and women had labored without end. Later, it was co-named VP Greene Day, in honor of James Edward Greene, who became Vice President of Liberia during the presidency of William R. Tolbert, Jr.
Whatever name one chose, one thing was certain: the day drew people from near and far, regardless of class, culture, or creed. Congo boys and girls mixed with Krus, Sapos, and Grebo boys and girls, all celebrating Sinoe's pride and dream. They would come in droves from the villages and hamlets and settlements, to raise the 'white and green' together, the proudest colors they've seen.
School parades were a particular fanfare, with students turning eyes right; the school with the best drill display would win a prize. The day also featured cultural dances and songs, as beautiful dancers gyrated to the beats of sangbas and sassas, as well as to live bands, drawing admiration from ordinary onlookers and government officials alike. After the patriotic speeches, the women served their best dishes, most made from Sinoe's staple--palm butter. Everyone would climax the day with protruding stomachs, relishing the theatrical happenings and remarkable speeches on full display.
SINOE DAY AND THE PEOPLE'S REDEMPTION COUNCIL JUNTA
The founding of Sinoe (and Liberia at large) also carried its own complexities by the introduction of western style of governance, law, language and customs. Tempers flared among county men and women, for being "marginalized and relegated to the back burner of the country's governance system" only left to play second-fiddle on matters of the state. This spurred a military agitation amongst native-born soldiers of the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL) who reportedly led a coup d'état. On April 12 of 1980, the Americo-Liberian monarchy purportedly came crushing down at the hands of Master Sargent Samuel Kanyon Doe and his seventeen enlisted men. The coup was like a blitzkrieg, toppling the government and leading to the assassination of President William Richard Tolbert, Jr., Liberia's 20th President, and who was also serving as the president of the Baptist World Alliance at the time.
The rancor and political agitation that overtook Liberia triggered a domino break down of law and order, leading to the hasty execution of thirteen officials of the Tolbert government on April 22nd, 1980. It may interest you to know that at least four Sinoe men formed part of Samuel Doe's junta: Thomas Weh-Syen of Pynes Town, J. Nicholas Podier of Banna, Larry Borteh of Tartweh, and Swen Dickson of Tartweh. This doesn't suffice that Sinoe as a county was in favor of the coup, but the men's enlistment in the Armed Forces of Liberia and forming part of the coup was a coincidental happenstance.
Amongst the four men, Thomas Weh-Syen stood tall, becoming Doe's leftwing man and second-in-command. Later, he was commissioned to the rank of Major General and Vice Head of State of Liberia.
General Weh-Syen was proud of his new titles and sought to carry on new things. When the fog of bloodletting had somewhat dissipated, he and his coup-hardened men remained envenomed with hateful passion to hurt "the Congo asses" and their erstwhile True Whig government--or anything left of it. Sinoe was their backyard, a fitting stage for their new undertakings.
So in Greenville, another round of unruliness cropped up - led by the second-in-command himself. Emboldened by his enviable status, General Weh-Syen's ego latched onto pride, pomposity, and hate. He could do anything he wanted, even if it were to carry on a pogrom in the county, and no man or law would stop him.
The first shift had ended with deaths; now it was time for a second shift of desperation and destruction. He displayed this by a daring move at the waterfront of Johnston Street in Greenville, where a towering monument stood in memory of the county's pioneers' return to Liberia. In his reasoning, the monument bore the hallmark of Americo-Liberian verisimilitude and dominance, and he sought to erase that class and history from existence. He barked orders to his hate-crazed men to bulldoze the monument. The towering figure came crashing to the ground and shattered into atoms amid cheers from some onlookers.
Weh-Syen, wanting more enthusiastic cheers, moved his retinue of destruction-hardened men to the old Masonic craft building on Johnston Street. That picturesque building stood as an epitome of decades of history, symbolizing Sinoe's fraternity with kinsmen at home and around the world. Putting aside heritage and history for the sake of cheers and praise-singing, Weh-Syen ordered it broken to shreds. Looters finished the job, making away with historical artifacts, valuable chandeliers, and furniture. That move severed the county from its ancient and antebellum past--and from its connection to the present and future.
To crown Weh-Syen's sacrilegious and iconoclastic pillaging of Sinoe, Commander-in-Chief Samuel Kanyon Doe stepped in. If his deputy could get cheered for bringing down a statue and a society building, Doe was sure to get bigger cheers for doing more. He would do anything to please his kinsmen, anything to please his deputy. So, in a show of force and solidarity, the People's Redemption Council under Head of State Doe proclaimed a military decree: Sinoe Day--Mississippi Day or VP Greene Day--would be squashed, never to be celebrated again as long as the country was under his command. Did the people protest? Some did, but faintly, in whispers too low for General Weh-Syen or any member of the junta to hear.
THE MASSIVE RETURN OF SINOE DAY
Years spun into a decade, and Sinoe Day remained grounded. No one had the audacity to question Doe and his junta over the irreverent erasure of the county's founding day. No one dared ask Doe to reintroduce a day that stood as a souvenir of county pride, sovereignty, and heritage. For forty years and more, the county stood still, observing the newfound silence in awe and subdued bewilderment. Sinoeans endured forty-plus years of carrying on in undertones of protest, whispered only in their homes and secret places.
More than forty years of cultural inactivity, more than forty years in a doldrums of nothingness heaped upon them by their own native soldier boys--who had come to free the country from "rampant corruption and the failure of the TWP-led government to improve the lives of indigenous Liberians, and clamp down on intense socio- political inequalities". It was more than forty years of not celebrating the white and green together; for to do so would have meant machine guns sneezing pellets of led into the living bodies of anyone who dared question the junta's authority.
It is nearly fifty years since the savagery that erased a significant chunk of Sinoe's history. The event was done and gone, but the people had not forgotten. Boys and girls who had borne witness to that grotesque event had now morphed into men and women, but the remains of the statue, the old Masonic building, and the deafening silence that characterized modern July 9 were memorabilia not easily forgotten--even as they have now aged.
For years, visible boredom was plastered on the faces of Sinoe's people. Lack of self-esteem was etched upon their hearts, minds, and faces. While other counties of Liberia celebrated and moved forward together, there was nothing for them to cheer about together, nothing to celebrate together, and nothing to make them to regroup as one people and break bread together. Nostalgia had become their job title. Frustration was a tenant in their hearts.
After a decade of silence, war entered Liberia. Charles G. Taylor had slipped through the country via The Ivory Coast, and launched "the people's popular uprising". Mission: to oust Doe and his government. In few months, Doe was captured and killed by forces loyal to General Prince Y. Johnson. This was bad news - bad news wrapped up in an aluminum foil of some good news for Sinoe Day event planners - Doe is gone and Sinoe Day can now come back again. Meanwhile, General Thomas Weh-Syen had died years ago on August 15, 1981, condemned to face a firing squad as a result of fallout that he had with Samuel Kanyon Doe. So, the coast was clear to bring back the historic day. But the coast got foggy because the belief to bring back the great day soon played out as a figment of illusion, fizzling out as soon as plans got off the ground in order to have it resuscitated. That is because even after the passing of Doe and his government in the 1990 era of the gory and "senseless Liberian civil war", efforts to have the revival of Sinoe Day plummeted under the weight of the remaining years of the civil war.
But in the years leading up to 2026, the men and women of Sinoe decided they had had enough. They resolved to bring back Sinoe Day. The junta had broken their hearts but not their spirit. The war had dampened their thirst to rejuvenate their founding day, but never quenched it. Their monuments and fraternal shrines had been set alight, but the embers still remained undying, giving them ardent reminders of their good 'ol childhood days.
The soldiers had cancelled a day out of their lives--for more than forty long years--but had never cancelled their pride and love for the motherland. Their spirit of uniting and coming back as a people had not been torched in the military conflagration that engulfed their county. They will regroup, reunite, recalibrate and they will re-celebrate. And the world will watch and see them together--under the epitaph of one county, one future, and one people.
This charge, led by the Association of Sinoe Men, has already begun to gain traction among auxiliary organizations, including the Sinoe Women Association and the Sinoe County Association in the Americas. Voices, once dwindled to whispers out of fear of reprisal, have now erupted into celebratory shouts and calls for action - Sinoe Homecoming is afoot and nobody can stop it now. The shouts have swept like a whirlwind across Liberia, catching the attention of political leaders acting under the banner of the Sinoe Legislative Caucus - they have avowed to join the pilgrimage back home. Sinoe men and women, irrespective of tribe and political affiliation, are once more uniting under the white and green, packing their bags to join the caravan that heads to town - by land, by sea or by air.
All of these efforts are summed up in a song written by Eddie M. Gibson and Joseph Kpah Horace, two of the creative sons of Sinoe:
"Sinoe - people, one county, one future.
Sinoe, our home, our pride, our destiny
Sinoe, one people, one county, one future
Together we rise stronger than before
Coming back home for peace and celebration
Bringing development from shore to shore
July 9 is our homecoming day
We're coming home from near and far away
We're coming home to lift the white and green
The proudest colors our eyes have seen
Let's celebrate our history and peace
Our unity and voices that never ceased
Hand in hand, side by side we'll stand
Building a brighter future for our land
Sinoe, Sinoe, our hearts beat as one
Our brighter tomorrow has already begun
Peace, progress, unity shining through
Sinoe County, we're proud of you...
We come home to become one together
We come home to share palm butter together
Families united; old friends once more
Opening hearts and every door
We come to pray for Sinoe together
We come to talk peace together
We come to celebrate July 9 together
Under one sky in every weather
From Greenville, to every district and town
Every village where our roots are found
Young and old let your voices ring
This is the season for everyone to sing
All the districts, towns and villages
Let us gather through the ages
One people, one county standing strong
Together, it's where we belong
Sinoe, one people, one county, one future
Together we rise stronger than before
We're coming back home for peace and celebration
Building development from shore to shore
Sinoe, Sinoe, hear the people say
Welcome home it's our homecoming day
Peace, unity and love will lead the way
Sinoe forever, July 9 today
It is our homecoming
It is our homecoming
It is our homecoming
It is our homecoming
One people, one county, one future
Sinoe forever..."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eddie Mantu Gibson is a celebrated figure in the Liberian creative landscape--a versatile actor, screenwriter, motivational speaker, Author and one of the leading voices in the nation's performing arts. He is President Emeritus of LIBERWOOD, and the founder of Eddie Theater Production, a company that has brought numerous stage, radio, writings and screen productions to life. Eddie is also former Interim President of the Liberia National Culture Union (LINCU) and head of the Secretariat of Creative Industry of Liberia (SECIL). He is also a member of the Liberia Association of Writers (LAW).
His literary works include: Three Hundred Proverbs on Ways to Help You Live in Modern Liberia, The Pastor's Wife, If You Want the Job, My Desperate Sister-in-Law, and The Wife of My Boss. Each of these writings reflects his deep insight into Liberian society and the human condition.
The Author holds a Bachelor's in Sociology from the African Methodist Episcopal University and a Master's in Peace and Conflict Transformation from the University of Liberia. Through his leadership, Eddie continues to shape the creative and cultural destiny of Liberia--standing as both a custodian of tradition and a beacon of new possibilities.
He is married and blessed with six children.