A Man from Another Land: How Finding My Roots Changed My Life (31 page)

“If I die here keeping my word, that can only mean I will be in better company than I am now.”

On November 15, 2007, the Foday Golia Memorial School was completed and opened for the children of the village of Njala Kendema.
The TGMF project manager, Mohamed Kamara, sent me some very inspiring photos of the students standing in front of the school
smiling and waving. I was very happy, but my smile would soon be wiped away by the media attacks that continued from around
the world.

There was a petition circulating on the Internet in January 2008, one year after my Golden Globes moment. It was signed by
over five thousand fans essentially voicing their concerns over what they believed was the deterioration of the plot line
of my former TV show. Unfortunately for me, the result was that my name was brought up all over again on various blogs as
the
reason
my former TV show began to decline in the ratings.

I wanted to pull my hair out as I watched my name and my brand slowly and methodically become two of the most negative words
in the world. The continued demonization was impacting everything. I was running out of political clout on the Hill as quickly
as I was running out of money. I had a huge overhead I was trying to maintain. Without my five-million-dollar-a-year salary,
I had to make some sacrifices.

In an attempt to quell the voices of discontent from my wife and business manager, I released Sonya of her duties as TGMF
president and closed the TGMF doors. I was devastated.

After one hundred days on the picket lines, the Writers Guild strike ended on February 12, 2008. But the damage was done.
Not only was there a work shortage in Hollywood, but for me personally, my name was no longer on the short list as a potential
choice to be an actor for
any
project.

I was now my own worst nightmare, a
media liability.

In spite of all this, there was one person from the Hill who reached out to me, Ms. Jackie B. Parker, deputy legislative director
for Senator Carl Levin. Ms. Parker called and invited me to speak about my work in Sierra Leone and my “DNA Has Memory” theory
before members of the Senate Black Legislative Caucus (SBLC). I wholeheartedly accepted her invitation.

I started thinking about whom else I could meet while I was in DC. While I had to close down TGMF for financial reasons, there
was no reason I couldn’t continue with my vision to help the people of Sierra Leone, my people. Besides, my acting career
was in ruins, it’s not as if the phone were ringing off the hook with offers for movie or TV roles.

I remembered that I had once received an invitation to play golf with HUD Secretary Alphonso Jackson. I had met him through
Ann Walker Marchant of the Walker Marchant Group. Ann spent six years in the White House, where she served as Special Assistant
to the President and Director of Research and Special Projects for Communications for President Clinton. She was responsible
for developing and implementing communications strategy in support of key presidential initiatives and she was, and remains,
very supportive of my mission for Sierra Leone.

As soon as I hung up with Ms. Parker, I called Secretary Jackson’s office to see if I could set up a meeting with him regarding
my work. Secretary Jackson not only agreed to a meeting with me, but reminded me that he was committed to the pledge he made
when we met the previous November to help preserve Bunce Island.

Secretary Jackson reached out to Secretary of the Interior Dirk Kempthorne and asked him to join us. The next call I made
was to the office of Congressman John Conyers Jr., House Committee on the Judiciary of the U.S. House of Representatives.
I spoke with his chief of staff Cynthia Martin Esq. and
arranged a meeting between Congressman Conyers and Sierra Leone’s newly democratically elected president, Ernest Bai Koroma,
for later in the year.

On February 27, 2008, I spoke before members of the Senate Black Legislative Caucus in the Senate Building. Ms. Parker thought
that it was a great success. Immediately after the meeting, I left the Senate Building and had my driver, Lorenzo Miller,
drive me to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.

Lorenzo said, “Wow, Mr. Washington. I just want to say that I am very proud of you and what you are doing for Africa. I wish
that there were more brothers like you.”

“Well, if I can help rebuild Sierra Leone before the world,” I said, “then hopefully it will inspire more brothers like me
to do the same elsewhere. I’ll call you when I am ready to go. Wish me luck!” I said as I jumped out of the car.

“Good luck and God bless you, brother!” Lorenzo called after me.

I walked into the building and was instantly struck by the beautiful photographs and artwork that lined the walls. Secretary
Jackson’s assistant came down to greet me and escorted me up to his office.

It was an old building and I could feel the long history of development deals from over the years emanating from the hallways
as we walked toward the secretary’s office. Just outside the waiting room an armed guard stood watch. “Why does the HUD secretary
need armed security?” I wondered.

Just then, I heard Secretary Jackson’s booming and confident voice inviting me in as his office door flew wide open. “Isaiah,
I’m so glad that you could make it. How have you been?” he said.

FLASH!
The house photographer snapped my photo as I stepped in the room and embraced Secretary Jackson. He asked
if the Secretary of the Interior had arrived yet. “He’s not running late, is he?” he said to one of his staff members, who
replied that he was on the way.

“Come over here to the window,” Secretary Jackson said. “Have you ever seen such a beautiful view of Washington?”

“No, sir, this is quite spectacular,” I agreed.

“I absolutely love this view,” he explained. “It reminds me every day how important my job is. I just love it.”

At that moment Secretary of the Interior Dirk Kempthorne walked in and said, “I see you are showing off your view again, Alphonso.”

I turned to face him and shook his hand.
FLASH!
I was nailed again by the house photographer. The three of us posed for a photo and then proceeded into the secretary’s private
chamber to have lunch. The dining room was magnificent; its windows opened to the same beautiful view of the Potomac as the
one from his office.

Secretary Jackson jumped right in and immediately explained to Secretary Kempthorne about my efforts and accomplishments in
Sierra Leone, and expounded on the Bunce Island preservation committee. Secretary Kempthorne listened attentively. As Secretary
Jackson began to wind down his pitch, he looked at me, and I took the baton and gave Secretary Kempthorne my theory on DNA
having memory.

I asked Secretary Jackson what country he felt most comfortable in, insisting that he answer as honestly as possible. I noticed
that he looked very Asian. “Well,” he said, “I feel very connected to Africa—”

I interrupted, “Sir, please, if I may reiterate. I want to know what country
you
feel the most comfortable in, where you would have no problem living and dying.”

Secretary Jackson thought for a moment, “Well, Isaiah, that country would be China.” Secretary Kempthorne looked on
with great curiosity. “That’s very interesting,” he said. “You know I have been thinking about this connection we feel with
other peoples and I feel a strong connection with the Nez Percé” (Native Americans living in the Pacific Northwest). “I think
you are on to something here.”

“Dirk,” Secretary Jackson asked, “is there any money available to help Isaiah preserve Bunce Island?”

“No, there is no funding left, it’s all going to the Iraq War,” he replied. “But I do know of an organization that may be
able to help. Isaiah, have you heard of the African American Experience Fund program?”

I said that I hadn’t.

Secretary Kempthorne offered to give me some contacts there and suggested they might be able to assist me.

“Thank you, sir, that would be very helpful,” I said.

We all began eating our lunch and mused about DNA having memory. After we finished, I thanked Secretary Kempthorne and Secretary
Jackson for their time and gracious advice. They both wished me well.

I called Lorenzo, who asked if I planned to go back to the Hotel George. “No,” I told him, “drive me to the Hart Building.
I can’t come to this town and have a friend and fan find out I was here and didn’t stop by and say hello.”

That friend was Ms. Ashley Tate-Gilmore, who had helped facilitate my meeting with Senator Barack Obama when I was lobbying
on the Hill in June 2006. A huge supporter of my efforts in Sierra Leone and a fan of my former TV show, Ashley also happened
to work for Senator Obama. Lorenzo dropped me off at the Hart Building and the security guards waved me in saying, “We know
who you are, Mr. Washington, you don’t have to go through the metal detectors. You’re in town lobbying for Sierra Leone, aren’t
you?”

I laughed and said, “Aren’t I always?”

One of the guards said, “You’re going to Senator Obama’s office, right?”

“Yes, sir!” I replied.

I walked into Senator Obama’s office and sat with Ashley at her desk. The rest of the staff members looked on in awe that
Ashley knew “Dr. Preston Burke.” As we caught up on the latest CBC gossip, I noticed stacks and stacks of Barack Obama’s book
The Audacity of Hope
surrounding her work area.

“Oh my God,” I joked, “are all these signed for me?” We both laughed. We talked about how cold it was outside, and I began
to share my opinions on the campaign. Ashley and a senior Obama staff member, who was sitting nearby, quickly hushed me. “Isaiah,
this office has ears,” Ashley said. “If you want to talk politics we will have to do it in the senator’s office.” She escorted
me away from the area of cubicles and walked me into the senator’s empty office.

I realized that I had been running all day and had not checked my e-mails. I asked if it would be okay to use the computer.
She said, “As long as you are
just checking your e-mails
it shouldn’t be a problem.” She put in her security code and left me alone. I was in Senator Barack Obama’s office; I couldn’t
believe it. I just sat there in awe of all the family portraits of his wife, Michelle, and their daughters placed prominently
on the huge wall. I noticed a Holy Bible grounded at the upper right-hand corner of his desk. There was a huge photograph
of Muhammad Ali knocking out Sonny Liston, and another of Senator Obama and Nelson Mandela. I sat at the computer and began
to feel as if I were privy to something very sacred.

I felt as if my body wanted to get up and leave, as if I were invading his sanctuary, his sacred place. But I stayed, sitting
there, waiting for my Yahoo mail icon to pop up. I got up to use the bathroom, but once I walked in I thought, “No way, I
can’t
pee in this man’s toilet without his permission, now that would be crossing the line.” I turned off the light and willed my
bladder to hold it. Back at the computer, Jackie B. Parker had sent me a couple of e-mails reminding me that she had an invitation
for me to attend an event at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African Art later that night.

My next stop was Congressman John Conyers Jr.’s office. Connecting President Koroma to this most influential congressman could
help to raise awareness about the plight of the people in Sierra Leone and raise money for economic development. His staff
members Melanie Roussell, Veronica L. Eligan, and Lou DeBaca were also there.

Congressman Conyers listened intently as, in twenty minutes flat, I went through the history of Sierra Leone, its connection
with the development of early America, and African Americans’ connection to Bunce Island. I also told him that Sierra Leone
was the poorest country in the world, about my connection to the Mende and Temne peoples, my mission and vision for Sierra
Leone’s future, and my theory on DNA having memory.

“Well, young man,” the congressman said, “you seem to be pretty informed and versed in the history of Sierra Leone.” The staff
members all laughed, because they all had heard it from me before, in the longer version.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied. “I know your time is valuable and I’m trying to be respectful of that. I am also wondering if
you would be interested in meeting with the newly democratically elected president, Ernest Bai Koroma, when he arrives here
in the United States for the first time this coming September?”

“Sure,” said the congressman. “I would love to meet President Koroma and introduce him to some people who may be able to help
him. I mean, we live in one of the greatest countries in the
world with access to trillions of dollars. I don’t understand how we could not provide some guidance to Sierra Leone and its
people.”

I saw Congressman Conyers’s staff look at each other as if they wanted to run for the hills. Whether it was a hard commitment
or not I was grateful to put Sierra Leone on Congressman Conyers’s personal radar. After the meeting, I asked Melanie Roussell
if I could count on Congressman Conyers keeping his word about wanting to meet with President Koroma.

“The chairman always keeps his word, Isaiah,” she said. “Sometimes I think he tries to do too much, but if he says he’s going
to do something, he does it.”

As Lorenzo slowly pulled up to the Smithsonian National Museum of African Art, I sat in the car, thinking about how blessed
I was to be able to see and experience Washington, DC, in such an unbelievable way. I recalled my time at Howard University
and wondered what Harry Poe would say if he could see how far I had come in his city.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I stepped out of my Lincoln Town Car. The sharp cold night air hit my face and reddened
my nose as my tears tightened in diamond shapes under my eyelids, making me look like a harlequin. I wiped at my face with
the inner part of my glove and told Lorenzo I would call him when I was ready to leave.

FLASH!
The moment I stepped inside the museum the pictures started.
FLASH!
The house photographer said, “Do you mind? I need to get a photo of you and our director.”