Letter From Saclepea Don’t Be “Benjamin”

By Musa Hassan Bility

Some of you have read Animal Farm. Many of you have heard of Benjamin, the old donkey. He was perhaps the wisest animal on the farm. He saw through every lie. He understood every deception. He knew when the pigs were manipulating the rules. He knew when the revolution was being stolen. He knew when the dream of equality had been replaced by greed, corruption, and oppression. Benjamin knew everything, but Benjamin did nothing. He watched. He observed. He complained quietly. He shook his head. He accepted what was happening as inevitable. While others were deceived, Benjamin was informed. While others were fooled, Benjamin understood. Yet understanding without action proved worthless.

Today, Liberia is filled with Benjamins. We know what is happening. We know that pregnant women and children are deprived of basic healthcare. We know that schools lack the resources necessary to educate our children. We know that communities rich in natural resources remain poor while a privileged few enjoy the wealth of the nation. We know that mining companies remove enormous quantities of our resources while the owners of those resources continue to struggle for survival. We know that corruption is destroying opportunities for millions of our people. We know that government institutions often fail those they were created to serve. We know. Yet too many of us remain silent. Like Benjamin, we have convinced ourselves that seeing the problem is enough. We have mistaken awareness for action. We have mistaken frustration for resistance. We have mistaken private complaints for public courage. But history teaches us a painful lesson: silence never saves a nation.

In Animal Farm, Benjamin finally spoke. He finally protested. He finally raised his voice. But he did so only when Boxer, his closest friend, was being carried away to the slaughterhouse. Only when the tragedy became personal did Benjamin act. And by then, it was too late. Too late to save Boxer. Too late to save the farm. Too late to save the revolution. That is the danger facing us today. The suffering we ignore today may become the suffering of someone we love tomorrow. The injustice we tolerate today may become the injustice inflicted upon our children tomorrow. The corruption we excuse today may rob our communities of opportunity tomorrow.

Who is Boxer in Liberia? Boxer is the struggling farmer. Boxer is the unemployed graduate. Boxer is the pregnant woman who cannot access healthcare. Boxer is the child sitting in a classroom without books. Boxer is the family living beside valuable natural resources but trapped in poverty. Boxer is every ordinary Liberian carrying the weight of a nation on his or her shoulders. And if we continue to behave like Benjamin, we may discover, when we finally decide to speak, that it is already too late.

The future of our country will not be determined by those who exploit it. It will be determined by those who refuse to remain silent while it is being exploited. Liberia does not need more Benjamins.

Liberia needs patriots. Men and women willing to stand for truth. Citizens willing to demand

accountability. Communities willing to defend their future. People willing to reject hopelessness and embrace responsibility. The question before us is simple: Are you Benjamin? Will you remain silent until the tragedy reaches your doorstep? Or will you stand now, while there is still time to change the course of our nation?

What we do today, what we do tomorrow, and what we choose to tolerate as a people will determine whether our farm survives. Let us not wait until Boxer is gone. Let us not wait until the damage is irreversible. Let us not wait until our silence becomes our regret. Let us stand together. Let us reclaim our responsibility. Let us chart a new course for Liberia—a course built on courage, accountability, patriotism, and hope. The time to speak is now. The time to act is now. The time to stop being Benjamin is now.

Have a pleasant week