A Man from Another Land: How Finding My Roots Changed My Life (33 page)

Two days later, I received a call from my business manager telling me that I was completely bankrupt. I asked him to send
me all of my account records and bank statements.

On August 20, 2008, I released Lorne and Jasmyne as employees of TGMF. “Lorne,” I said as we sat down to talk, “I can’t afford
to pay you any further. I’m shutting the office down.”

“What? You telling me you are not solvent?” she said.

“Yes. I know you’re upset, but I’ve pulled money from everywhere and I’m tapped out. It’s over.”

When I told Jasmyne, she was equally shocked. “You’re kidding, right? We just launched the Reach One Million Campaign on your
birthday. Give it some time,” she said.

“It won’t be enough to cover your salaries. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, they both left.

I walked to my office, closed the door, and sat there alone for a very long time. I began having some very selfish, very dark,
and very serious thoughts of blowing my brains out to quell the pain and rage I felt. But I knew that would be exactly what
my
enemies and the media could capitalize on. If I did that, then they would win. “Hell no!” I thought to myself. “I’m a good
person.” I had made mistakes. I had apologized. I had been cornered. I had been abused. I had been disappointed and down before.
So, I sat there quietly and thought, “If you are down and not underground, sooner or later there is only one way you can go…
and that’s up!”

“Be still and KNOW that I am GOD.” I recited the scripture out loud.

Things continued to get worse. In September, not only was I without money, I also found myself with no publicist, no agency,
and no business manager—the kiss of death for an actor.

It’s amazing how quickly your so-called
friends
disappear when the money is gone. When I called people I thought I could rely on, they simply didn’t answer, or never called
back. Despite feeling the bone-shattering hurt and anger, I had little time to dwell on it. I had to keep my head held high.
I had to keep trying to find ways to keep moving in a forward motion for my family, for TGMF, for Sierra Leone, for my fans,
and for myself.

When the calls from creditors began to overwhelm me, I had our home phone and mobile phones disconnected. It was a move that
proved only to make things even more difficult. Trying to find a working pay phone in Los Angeles was no easy task. The only
working phone I had access to was the one in my office at TGMF. Anytime I had to make an important call meant a trip to my
Burbank, California, office. I was stuck in a $3.5 million house that I could afford to neither stay in nor move out of. I
had $500,000 worth of personal debt.

There was some good news: TGMF was doing better, thanks to the money raised by my Cuban angel, Maria Elena Lamas.
And President Koroma was coming to New York to attend the 63rd Session of the United Nations General Assembly at the UN headquarters,
to make his debut as the new democratically elected president of Sierra Leone. I had worked hard for six months to get President
Koroma and Congressman John Conyers Jr. in one room.

I received an e-mail from Minister Zainab Bangura asking me when I was arriving in New York. I didn’t have the heart to tell
her that I could not afford a plane ticket. I felt numb and crestfallen with the thought that I was going to miss this historic
moment, a moment I had worked so hard to be a part of. But it was not about me, it was about bringing awareness to the people
and problems in Sierra Leone. I kept my focus on that.

I received a call from Noelle LuSane from Congressman Donald Payne’s office asking me if the congressman should meet with
President Koroma and Sierra Leone’s ambassador to the United States, Bockarie Stevens.

I told Noelle that President Koroma was the real deal and a true change agent for Sierra Leone. I hung up. I left the TGMF
office in Burbank and drove the twenty-six miles to Venice to the UPS Store where I had my new P.O. box. I walked in, stuck
the key in the lock, pulled open the door, and lifted out three envelopes with the Screen Actors Guild Residual Department
return address on them. I ripped open the envelopes and found three checks from Disney totaling $17,000!

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, much like breathing air after a near-drowning experience. My body felt buoyant and alive
again. I just kept repeating, “God is good all the time. God is good all the time.” Not my time, but His time. Then I walked
calmly and quickly out of the UPS Store and jumped into my SUV and drove straight to the bank!

*     *     *

I made sure my family had plenty of food in the house, paid the back rent, the overdue car notes, and the overdue utility
bills, and, finally, I had my cell phone turned on again. With my family secured, I purchased an economy ticket and arrived
on the red-eye into LaGuardia Airport in New York on Friday, September 25, 2008. As soon as I landed I placed a call to my
wife, Jenisa, telling her I had made it safely, and then I called Minister Zainab Bangura. When she answered I said, “Hello,
madam, I am here in New York and Congressman John Conyers Jr. and Congressman Donald Payne are set to meet with President
Koroma.”

“Well done, Isaiah!” she said. “I am sending Souley Manah-Kpukumu over to your hotel in an hour. He will take you to get your
credentials as a Sierra Leone adviser to the president for entry into the UN. You will be a part of his delegation now. I
will see you there.”

I reached for my “black bible” and read over my notes on Sierra Leone. I knew that I had just forty-eight hours to impress
President Koroma and convince him that I should be given dual citizenship as soon as possible. I was ready. It had all of
my notes on the history of Sierra Leone and its connection to the building of what would eventually become the United States
of America. I was versed on Pan-African leaders, their histories, and their philosophies. I had my research and clippings
on De Beers and the Sierra Leone diamond history. I had everything! I felt emboldened and secure as I presented my case as
to why I should be the one, the first one, to receive a dual citizenship from him.

I meditated for forty-five minutes to center myself. I had just stepped out of a hot shower when the phone rang. It was a
woman from the front desk calling to ask me for another credit card. I told her I would pay cash upon checking out and to
turn off the phone and other services in the room. She seemed satisfied and hung up.

Shortly after, my cell phone rang. It was Souley, whom Min
ister Zainab Bangura had assigned to help me get my credentials, telling me that he was downstairs waiting for me. I got dressed
and met him in the lobby.

He asked me to follow him and together we walked three blocks to a building where I had to hand over my U.S. passport, was
photographed, and handed a badge with my name on it. Souley smiled at me. I followed him along a series of shortcuts through
Manhattan’s East Side streets and walkways.

I looked up and saw the massive United Nations Building looming in the distance, getting closer and closer as we walked.

As we went down a flight of stairs in one particular walkway, I found my eyes being guided to some lettering on a wall. It
was a verse from Isaiah 2:4. “They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will
not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.”

I nearly fell to the ground seeing my name etched so gallantly into the aged and heavy stone. I picked up my pace and hurried
down the rest of the stairs. Souley had already spilled out onto the congested sidewalk leaving me a few paces behind.

There were so many people on the street, all of us being shuttled like cattle between the royal blue NYPD barricades. Police
vehicles, with lights flashing, were parked on every corner and at every intersection. Sirens blared from convoys of speeding
black SUVs with tinted windows and suited men with wires connected to their ears inside.

Souley and I finally made our way through security and into the building. We boarded a crowded elevator that took us up several
floors. I tried to keep pace and follow behind Souley, walking along a huge concave wall, but was separated from him when
I was almost run over by several bodyguards surrounding Microsoft founder Bill Gates. When I turned around, I found myself
face to top of head with the president of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

“Oh pardon me, Mr. President,” I said as his Secret Servicemen swarmed around him. President Ahmadinejad smiled and kept going.
I watched him disappear into a sea of brawny men all dressed in dark gray suits. I finally caught up with Souley and there
was President Ernest Bai Koroma standing tall in an immaculate dark blue suit and a bright red tie.

“Hello, Mr. President,” I said, “I’m Isaiah Washington.”

“Yes, yes, I have heard a great deal about you,” he said.

“I hope it’s been good things, sir.”

“Oh yes, very good things. Welcome.”

With that, President Koroma was escorted to his seat on the floor of the United Nations.
FLASH!
A woman who worked at the UN took a photo of me and started screaming for her coworker to come take a photo of her standing
with me. “I hope you don’t mind!” she said.

“No.” I smiled. “I don’t mind.”
FLASH!

Suddenly a burst of loud applause emanated from the huge UN Assembly floor. Every head of state from the free world was clapping
as Bill Gates walked to the podium. I was stunned at how casual everything and everyone was. I looked around the room and
saw Sweden, Sudan, and Sierra Leone signs, with men and women adorned in headphones sitting proudly behind each sign. There
were two massive Jumbotron screens separated by the map of the world on polar azimuthal equidistant projection and surrounded
by two olive branches, both symbolically significant. The olive branch can be traced back to ancient Greece and serves as
a symbol of peace. The world map is a symbol of the area with which this organization is concerned in achieving its main purpose:
peace. Which was exactly what I felt my entire time inside the UN. Peace.

I watched as heads of state from São Tomé and Principe, Comoros, and China spoke about global warming and their concerns.
Then President Koroma took the podium. I sat next
to his sister, who was beaming with pride, as he serenely and spectacularly delivered his speech. He spoke about a new Sierra
Leone, agricultural opportunities, tourism, and education of the country’s youth.

After the reception where President Koroma greeted his constituents and supporters, I returned to my hotel, got some money
from the ATM, and checked out paying with cash. Souley picked up my bags.

There seemed to be some confusion as to who from the delegation was allowed to take the van to the train station in order
to head down to DC. I jumped in a cab and had the driver take me to Penn Station. I arrived at the same time as the president.
We were all escorted by New York’s finest into a VIP room. One police officer winked at me and asked me if I wanted a stick
of chewing gum. I accepted.

As we waited for the train to Washington, Minister Zainab Bangura introduced me to the president’s personal assistant, Brian
Gilpin, and other members of his delegation. The special agents signaled that it was time to board our train and we walked
single file to the gate.

I strategically positioned myself directly in front of President Koroma as we walked. Once we arrived on the platform I turned
to him and asked, “Mr. President, how is everything going, sir?”

“It’s a lot of work,” he answered, “but someone has got to do it.”

O
ur train rolled slowly into the station and came to a complete stop. I could feel the level of tension among the policemen
and special agents rise suddenly as the disembarking passengers started to crowd around us, trying to get a look at the tall
and regal-looking man the large team of officers was protecting.

One of them looked at me and said, “What did you do now?” I laughed and chewed my gum harder. I was getting used to that.
It seemed no matter where I went or what I was doing, someone had something to say about me or my departure from my TV show.

We finally boarded the train and Minister Bangura made sure that I sat directly in front of President Koroma. I was nervous,
but I was determined not to show it or, at the same time, appear too confident. As the train pulled out of the station I could
see that Minister Bangura and President Koroma were tired. I knew I had to make my case, and quick.

Before I could finish my spiel on the importance and historical significance of obtaining my dual citizenship, President Koroma
smiled at me and said, “I understand what it is that you are trying to do and I support it. I am aware of W. E. B. DuBois’s
teachings and I am of the same school of thought. I have had many ask me, ‘Why are you giving this man citizenship?’ and I
say to them, ‘What are you all so afraid of ?’ ”

I sat there silent for several seconds and then said, “My sentiments exactly, sir. Thank you for your time. I will shut up
and let you rest.”

I got up and walked toward the back of the secured car. I saw one of the special agents and asked him, “Hey, what are you
carrying?”

“Oh just this lil ol’ thing,” he said as he slightly opened his coat revealing his Sig Sauer P226.

“Yeah, that’s little all right,” I said, laughing. “Hey, do you know Special Agent John R. Christman?” We had talked at the
White House Summit on Malaria.

“Of course,” he said. “He’s our special agent in charge. You want me to call him?”

“Yeah, tell him Isaiah Washington says hello.”

The special agent dialed his phone. “Hey… yes. We are on our way now. You have Isaiah Washington asking for you.”

“He says to ask you, ‘What the hell are you doing with the President of Sierra Leone?’ ”

“Tell him I am advising him,” I said.

The special agent handed me the phone and I chatted briefly with Special Agent Christman and promised that I would call him
while I was in DC.