When we first set out on this adventure, one of our main ambitions was to find out what had happened to James – the kind, gentle man who our housekeeper in the 70s. But it was his son, Jefferson, who found us. His arrival on our doorstep one morning, just a few days after our arrival, blew our minds and hearts.
We learned that James and had made it through the war, only to die from a simple, untreated infection a few years ago. Our question then shifted to more about our responsibility in helping Jefferson, who could not even afford to go to school.
The fact that he was actually named Jefferson after me, was something we didn’t expect.
Jefferson only had one photograph of his father – a Liberian ID card . (His name signed in my dad’s handwriting.) He was happy to see a couple more photos that we had in our collection.
Since returning we have been amazed to receive a few more photos of James, from other families who James worked for after us.
I’m looking forward to Jeff Jr. seeing these when we return to Liberia with the photo collection.