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Roughly translated, that’s what a local prophet said about
Ellen Johnson when she was born in Liberia in October, 1938.
Those words were repeated in praise and in sarcasm as
Johnson grew up, but no one had any idea then how right the
man would be.
Though illiteracy was very common in Liberia, Johnson’s
parents strove to educate their children in a manner
befitting their upper-class status. Johnson expected to go
to Europe for college but when her father fell ill, she knew
that college would no longer be possible. Instead, she
married Doc Sirleaf, a man several years her senior.
The babies started coming almost immediately; shortly after
their fourth son was born, Sirleaf and her husband seized an
opportunity to go to America, to Wisconsin for college.
Leaving her children was difficult for Sirleaf, but it
wouldn’t be the last time. It would, however, be a few years
before she’d leave her abusive husband.
By then, she was working for Liberia’s Treasury Department
and it was obvious that there were problems. Politically and
socially, things had been shaky for some time, in part
because of a two-tiered society that wasn’t functional
anymore. Sirleaf attempted to continue working in-place but
her connection to Liberia’s controversial president Tolbert
made her vulnerable, so she applied for a job in America
with the World Bank.
It, and that she was a native Liberian, probably ultimately
saved her life.
In 1980, following the government’s overthrow and Tolbert’s
murder, Sirleaf continued being vigilant while working for
the new president as well as for World Bank. She knew she
could do more if she stayed in-country during Liberia’s
civil war, but her eventual outspokenness was consequently
perilous: for her rebellious actions, she was jailed in
1985, which outraged the country’s market-women.
They helped get her released. It would be two decades before
they’d get her elected.
Whew. Reading Madame President very well could wring
you out.
Starting with birth and a basic history of Liberia, author
Helene Cooper takes us through a half-century of turmoil
with a woman who, considering what surrounded her, possessed
grit and guts. Cooper tells Sirleaf’s story as one that’s
triumphant but also brutal and raw, with violence in a
little too much gruesome detail; still, despite that those
parts are uncomfortable to read, they inherently tell
readers more about who Sirleaf is and why her Presidency is
so remarkable.
Though you’ll cringe often when reading this, it’s a book
that’ll make you want to cheer, too. World history buffs
will truly enjoy Madame President, as will fans of
international politics and women’s issues. And if that’s
you, then it follows that you’ll love it, too.
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