A Tribute to Atty. Philip Nemeneh Wesseh-BA, Mass Communication; LLB, Law
By Charles Crawford
His mama called him Nemeneh. His friends called him Philip. Media colleagues called him “Gina”. Employees under his leadership at The Inquirer Newspaper called him Chief. Philip Nemeneh Wesseh, also known as Gina, an acclaimed Journalist, an Attorney at Law, a catalyst for free speech and press freedom, a foot soldier for social justice, a champion for human rights, and an epitome of generosity is no more with us. The cold hands of death snatched from us this gentle soul on September 14, 2022, following a protracted period of illness. His remains will be interred today [October 24, 2022] at the Brewerville cemetery thereafter funeral services at the Trinity United Methodist Church in the Borough of New Kru Town.
Chief, as you go to your final resting place, I want you to know that I remained grateful to you for all you did for me.
Since your demise, I have been in my lil corner reading tributes being penned by professional colleagues of yours. To admit, some of the tributes have been very positive while some have been sarcastic. For example, Journalist Joseph G. Bartuah penned the following: “Mr. Wesseh was a consummate professional with an unshakable commitment to journalism. As a congenial gentleman, he was on giving opportunities to younger Liberians who were desirous of advancing themselves in the profession.” Photojournalist James Momoh had this to say about you: Working at The Inquirer Newspaper under Philip Wesseh was a nightmare for me. Philip Wesseh failed the paper and transformed the paper into the Wesseh dynasty. Wesseh was a poor and egocentric manager.”
Having read the above two expressed thoughts, the question that comes to mind is where do I stand on the issue? And, I guess my boss wants to know my answer, even though he’s not with me physically. I roll down the hill with the former by adding that not only were you a good man, but an epitome of generosity. Your goodness and generosity gave life to people. Many were hungry and you fed them; they were naked, and you clothed them; they were homeless, and you provided shelter for them. Chief, your generosity cannot be quantified; It is just unmeasurable, to say the lease.
My recollection of your kindness takes me to July 29, 2018 (the day Montsorrado County had its bi-election to fill the vacant seat created in the Upper House of the Legislature – the Senate as a result of the election of then Senator George Manneh Weah as President of the Republic of Liberia). You and I sat on the sidewalks of Benson Street in front of the offices of The Inquirer Newspaper during the morning hours on that election day. When your presence was noticed by people that needed helping hands from you, they came to you in their numbers. Some explained to you that they were hungry; some said they were at the verge of being thrown out of their dwelling places; some said they had no clothes to wear as the clothes on them were all they had because thieves stole their clothes. As they came to you with their problems, that’s how you gave them money. You even ran out of cash and turned to me for assistance, adding “Crawford help me out! What you see happening here is what I go through every day of my life.” I gave you a financial helping hand to continue your munificence to those that needed it most. You were just exceptionally a good man to many of us that came across your path. Sure indeed, I am a testimony to the good you did for people during your days on planet earth. Unfortunately, this writing is not about the above!
I am aware of your professional life. I know how journalism was so dear to your heart. The love you had for your profession (journalism) superseded every other thing in your life including your family – wife and kids. You refused to abandon your profession in Liberia to join your family in the United States despite many calls and appeals that came your way from your wife and family members to do. But this piece is not about that!
I know how fearless and critical you were on national issues. Your stance on national issues, especially issues that had to do with the wellbeing of your people (Liberians) landed you in the hands of the Charles Taylor government. The Taylor administration through its callous and ruthless police director Joseph Baryogar Tate concocted a bogus charge against you with the intent of seeing you behind bars. Joe Tate and his police force said you purchased a stolen goods and that they needed your living body to appear before them at the headquarters of the Liberian National Police. Being a law-abiding person, you appeared with your legal team that included then Catholic Justice and Peace Commission Director Samuel Kofi Woods and Counsellor Tiawon Gongloe. While at the Police headquarters, you never got to see your accuser nor the stolen items, but you were let go as a free man. Your encounter with Joe Tate and his police force did not deter you from using the power of your pen to push for social-political-economic emancipation of your downtrodden people under the despotic regime of Charles Taylor. Unfortunately, this piece is not about the above!
You molded the minds of young Liberians that had the quest for journalism. You taught journalism in high schools and universities in Monrovia and subsequently provided internship opportunities for desirous students to learn the profession at the offices of The Inquirer Newspaper. You were a mentor to the younger generation of Liberia. But again, this writing is not about the above!
I know about your stewardship in the church. You were a staunch Methodist. You contributed your time, energy, and finances for the growth of Trinity United Methodist Church in the Borough of New Kru Town. You were honored as Father and Special Father of the year by many churches in Liberia. But, again, I am not here for that!
Having said all of the above about you, if this writing is not about telling readers and your people at large how generous you were on earth, then what is it about? This piece is simply about telling you thanks for one particular good you did for me as a person, first, and as an employee under your leadership at the Inquirer Newspaper, second. That good thing you did for me has brough about a change in my life.
You mustered the courage and tenacity to approve my selection by the United States Embassy accredited near Monrovia to travel to Washington D.C. as Inquirer reporter to prove press coverage to the donor conference America co-sponsored with the international community for Liberia’s reconstruction and development. Neither you nor anyone from The Inquirer Newspaper participated or influenced the selection process, but when the embassy, through its public affairs department, contacted you about their decision you were magnanimous enough to say ‘yes-ment’ to them. Your yes-ment to the Americans landed me in America for the first time as a Liberian journalist. Thereafter the donor conference, I remained in America. You never interposed any objection to my stay, but rather encourage me to make use of my time in America to drink from the fountain of knowledge this country (America) has to offer. For this, I remained grateful to you. Sometimes I sit and wonder how my life would have been today had you said to the Americans: “no-ment, Crawford is unfit to represent The Inquirer Newspaper at the donor conference.”
I join Aaron Neville in signing to you the lyrics of the song “I Bid You Goodnight:” lay down my dear Chief, lay down and take your rest. I want you to lay your head upon your Savior’s breast. I love you, but Jesus loves you best. I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight. I bid you goodnight, goodnight, goodnight. Sure indeed, lay down and take your rest, my dear Chief. You have fought a good fight. You were a good and courageous man. You fed the hungry. You clothed the naked. You put smiles on the faces of the less fortunate in our society. You were a good and faithful servant of the Lord, and it is now time you retire from labor to rest in order to receive the Heavenly reward that awaits you on your Master’s table. I see you walking majestically toward your Master, King Jesus, to take possession of the Heavenly Crown for goodness and generosity. Lay down my dear Nemeneh and take your rest for you have faithfully served in your Master’s vineyard. Until we meet again on that great resurrection morning, I say to you lay down and take your rest, Chief. My revolutionary salute to you ends this piece!
