Doe’s final hours allow us to see history at the point of total disintegration — the dignified and haughty goddess transformed into its bloody and pitiful caricature. [Prince] Johnson’s henchmen shoot the nation’s president in the legs so that he cannot escape, grab him, break and bind his arms. They then go on to torture him for more than a dozen hours. This takes place in a small city, with a legal government. Where are the ministers during this time? What are the other bureaucrats doing? Where is the police? The president is being tortured right next door to a building just occupied by Nigerian forces who have arrived in Monrovia to protect the lawful regime. So what about these soldiers — what, nothing? Don’t they care about this? And that’s not all! A few kilometers from the harbor are stationed several hundred soldiers from the elite presidential guard, whose sole mission and purpose in life is to protect the head of state. Meantime, the head of state set off in the morning on a short visit to the port, hours have passed, and there is no sign of him. Aren’t they even curious about what might have happened to him? About where he could be? Let us return to the scene in which Johnson is interrogating the president. He wants to find out where Doe keeps his bank account. Doe is moaning, his wounds are painful; less than an hour ago he was struck by a dozen or more bullets. He is babbling something, who knows what. Is he giving the number of the account? Does he even have an account? Johnson, furious, orders his ears cut off. Why? Is this wise? Doesn’t Johnson understand that at the very moment this is done, blood will flood Doe’s ear passages and communicating with him will be even more difficult? One can see how these people are unable to cope with anything, how the situation is getting the better of them, how they botch everything in turn. And then, enraged, they try to recover. But can one make things right by shouting? By sadism? By killing others?
Ryszard Kapuściński, The Shadow of the Sun
