First the story about the soldiers. I’ve told it before in my book about my Peace Corps experience, The Bush Devil Ate Sam, and on my blog. Because it involved Guinea fowls, it deserves being told again. It was 1967 and I had just returned from my Peace Corps job of teaching history and geography at the nearby Gboveh High School in Gbarnga, Liberia. Much to my surprise—and dismay— I found soldiers standing in our yard pointing guns every which way. It was an ‘Ut-Oh’ moment. Liberian soldiers were scary.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying not to sound nervous. You learned early on not to mess with Liberian soldiers. There was a reason why the government refused to issue them bullets.
“Your dog ate one of the Superintendent’s Guinea hens,” their sergeant mumbled ominously. The Superintendent of Bong County was the equivalent to a governor except that he had more power. He lived a quarter mile away and his Guinea fowls strutted around on the government compound squawking loudly.
“Which one?” I asked innocently.
“What does it matter which Guinea hen the dog ate?” the Sargeant sneered.
“No, no,” I responded, “I meant which dog.”
He glared at me for a moment and then pointed at Boy. I relaxed. It didn’t seem like the three Liberian dogs who had adopted Jo Ann (my first wife) and me would have done in the Supe’s Guinea fowl. They were three of the best-fed dogs in Gbarnga.
Boy was something else: A large, obnoxious, always hungry dog. He normally lived across town with Holly, another Peace Corps Volunteer. A second dog she owned, however, had puppies and drove Boy off. She was afraid he would eat her kids. Since Boy didn’t like Liberians, he had hightailed it across town to live with us. Normally I wouldn’t have cared. But given his attitude toward black people and the fact he thought of our cat Rasputin as dinner, I wasn’t fond of him.
“Why don’t you arrest him?” I offered hopefully.
“Not him,” the sargeant shouted. “You. You come with us!” Apparently, the interview wasn’t going the way Sarge wanted. A Liberian might have been beaten by then. I decided it was time to end the conversation.
“Look,” I said, “that dog does not belong to me. He belongs across town. I am not going anywhere with you.” With that I walked into our house and closed the door. It was risky but not as risky as going off with the soldiers. They grumbled around outside for a while and finally left.
Jo and I relaxed “small,” as the Liberians would say, but really didn’t feel safe until that evening. It was a six-beer night. Finally, around ten, we went to bed, believing we had beaten the rap.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
“What in the hell was that?” I yelled as I jumped out of bed. It was pitch black and four o’clock in the morning.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
“Someone is pounding on our back door,” Jo Ann whispered, sounding as frightened as I felt.
I grabbed our baseball bat, headed for the door, and yanked it open. Soldiers were everywhere. The same friendly sergeant from the afternoon before was standing there with the butt of his rifle poised to strike our door again.
“Your dog ate another one of the Superintendent’s guinea hens,” he proclaimed to the world. I could tell he was ecstatic about the situation. He had probably tossed the bird over the fence to Boy.
“This time you are going with us!” he growled.
In addition to being frightened, I was growing tired of the routine. “I am sorry you are having such a hard time guarding Guinea hens,” I said, trying to sound reasonable, “but I explained to you yesterday that the dog does not belong to me and I am not going anywhere with you. Ask Mr. Bonal (the high school principal who lived next door) and he will tell you the dog is not ours.”
Sometimes the ballsy approach is your best option.
I closed the door and held my breath. Sarge was not happy. He and his soldiers buzzed around outside like angry hornets. Still, yanking a Peace Corps Volunteer out of his house and dragging him off in the middle of the night over a guinea fowl could have serious consequences, much more serious than merely reporting back that I was uncooperative. I could see the headlines:
Soldiers Beats Peace Corps Volunteer Because Dog Eats Guinea Fowl. Liberian Ambassador Called to White House to Explain
I hoped the sergeant shared my perspective. At a minimum, I figured he would check with Bonal. John might not appreciate being awakened in the middle of the night, but it would serve him right for laughing when I had told him the guinea fowl story the night before. Anyway, I suspected he was up and watching the action.
We had a very nervous thirty minutes before the soldiers finally marched off. In the US, this is the point where we would have been calling an attorney, Jo’s mother, and the local TV station. Here, my only backups were the Peace Corps Representative and Doctor: one to represent me, the other to patch me back together.
Happily, our part of the ordeal was over. It turned out that Peter, a young Liberian who worked for Holly, actually owned Boy. The soldiers finally had someone they could bully.
Peter was pulled into court and fined for Boy’s heinous crimes. Boy, in turn, was sold to some villagers to cover the cost of the fine. As for Boy’s fate, he was guest of honor at a village feast. Being a Bad Dog in Liberia had rather serious consequences.
And now for the southern red billed hornbill, another unique looking bird we first saw in Chobe National Park.
As parents, the hornbills have a unique approach. The male finds a tree cavity where the female lays her eggs and then seals herself in, leaving a small hole for the male to provide her with food. While she is in her self-imposed exile, she molts, regrows her feathers and takes care of the young hatchlings. When the babies are around three weeks old, she breaks out to help in catering food for the hungry brood. The youngsters reseal the openings with their droppings and food remains. Hmm. Eventually, the chicks knock out the barrier when they are ready to fly.
Peggy and I will be on the road again for a month starting on Tuesday, this time traveling to Florida to spend time with our son and his family and once again visit Everglades National Park. I plan on maintaining my regular blog schedule. But, we’ll see. Grin. Friday’s post will be on one of Africa’s more amusing animals, the warthog.
Wandering through Time and Place 
My mother’s grandparents kept guineas as ‘watchdogs,’ and they are effective. I come across them from time to time near a property on Galveston Island where the owners have quite a flock that roam the roads and provide entertainment.
What I’ve read is that they roam pretty much where they want to roam, unlike chickens that will pretty much hang out. Apparently they can be bribed. One thing that really caught my attention was that they will clear ticks off your property. Given Lyme disease, that would be valuable.
I suspect when Boy went onto the Superintendents property they raised the roof. Or at least announced the woof. No wonder he got caught.
Great story Curt.
Thanks, Andrew. Appreciated.
You were strong to stand up to them. They might have backed off because they never had anyone defy them before! Your entire book is great – but it reassures me that I do NOT want to go to Liberia!
Not many, that’s for sure. The Liberians, on the whole, were good folks, G. The government and some aspects of tribalism had its dark side. On the whole, I loved my experience. BTW, I should be down around Naples on February 6/7/8. Any chance for lunch. Peggy and I would love to meet you. Email me at cvmekemson@gmail.com.
Frankly, Curt, things are a bit rough here, medical wise.
Ok, G. Do take care, my friend.
The rough part is – it’s both of us. There are less hours in the day now than when I was working full time. 🤪
Makes it all the harder. And time, I get that. And you still manage to do a great blog.
I’ve had to do repeats because of a lack of time. I am coming pretty close to the end, but I’ll still be around. I’ve met too many great people, like yourself, to just disappear!
Hang in there, G. On whatever level works for you.
I never knew I was with a potential Liberian criminal!! May have to review this connection……Gre
Yep, you never know what evil lurks in the heart of man, Steve. The Shadow knows, however. Are you old enough to remember that popular radio program? Grin.
I remember that story from your book, Curt. What a wild experience. And the Guinea Fowls are strange-looking animals, aren’t they? Their heads seem to small for those big bodies. I like the Hornbill – it’s bill looks like a, well, horn. 🙂 Have fun in your travels to Florida and I look forward to meeting the Warthog. 🙂
I know, their bodies are so huge and their heads so tiny. And weird. I wonder if there is a correlation. It’s like they are making a statement. LOL. Thanks, D. As for the warthog, the Guinea fowl might seem normal in comparison.
Ha!
Oh Boy, memorable story.
Laughing. Once I noticed the capital letter.
Great reason to re-tell the story! Guinea fowl are remarkable birds – all those colours, the big body, the funny appendages. The horn bill is also super cool. I’m curious about the giant bill and their primary diet being insects. How did natural selection match those things up? Ah well, nature is a mystery. Loved hearing the crazy way they seal themselves inside a hole during the birthing and baby stages.
🙂 I wonder how they would get along with your hens, Crystal?
Curious about the hornbill bill and why? Possibly for impressing their lady love? And some members of the species have a bill on top of that! I read where their neck vertebrae are fused to enable them to hold up the bill. Must be, or have been, some reason for evolution to saddle them with their big beaks!
Oh! To attract a mate! I should have thought of that, and I’ll bet that’s the answer.
Makes the world go round. Grin.
Great post Curt, I remember this story from your book!
Thank’s Sylvia. I couldn’t resist. 🙂
I could read your stories all day, Curt! Those guinea fowl are pretty beautiful, with odd little heads, and I believe not much brain.
Not sure you remember my neighbors having 75 guinea fell in their backyard to eat the ticks off the goats.
my husband went ballistic because they’re loud. It turned out a mountain. Lion came on their property and killed one of the goats, so they got five dogs and the dogs started eating the guinea fowl and now there are only 10 left. then they had the goats slaughtered… never mind sending him out to a farm or to chew other peoples, grasses,…. don’t ask. They’re the same neighbors who have the llamas horses, camel and zebra.
Oh my God that story is just like so many of your stories that only you could have experienced. And you’re right even though I’ve heard it before it’s one of those captivating reads that I could read over and over. Have the very best time in Florida and can’t wait to see this strange looking warthog on FriYAYYYY!🤩❤️😘
I must have missed the story on your neighbor. Can’t imagine the noise. We lived a quarter of a mile away from the Superintendent’s half a dozen guinea fowls, and had no trouble hearing them. Your husband was justified! And then the dogs, and goats….
Oh man that gives me a little sympathy to you him thanks to you. He is saluting you now.. I just read him what you said. Thank God I don’t put my hearing aides in❣️
Interesting story about the Liberian soldiers. If Qatari soldiers had appeared at our door when we lived in Qatar, I doubt there would have been an option to refuse their request!
I m sure you are right. My approach was risky, but not as risky as the options from my perspective. Especially at night. Fortunately, the principal was an important man in the community and the President of the country was quite fond of Peace Corps.
A good story is worth repeating.
The Hornbills remind me of a story I recently saw, about the largest flying creature ever. It was called a Quetzalcoatlus, and lived in the dinosaur age, not long before the extinction event. Now that guy had a bill!
It was certainly burned into my memory banks.
I checked the article, Dave. Wow. That was a massive beak. Wouldn’t want it pointed at me.
I remember that story of the Liberian soldiers and the guinea fowl. I’d have been terrified. They are indeed fabulous looking – the birds not the soldiers 😂
Alison
Their feathers on the big bodies are gorgeous, Alison, and their small heads are, um, colorful? The soldiers were scary and not the least bit fabulous, especially at 4 AM!