Fallen Liberian media icon Philip ‘Gina’ Wesseh
By Danicius Kaihenneh Sengbeh
I don’t know what to write,yet. It has been challenging for me to pen a tribute in memory of veteran Liberian journalist Philip N. Wesseh (‘Gina’), since his brokenhearted demise on September 14.
He was ardently called “Gina” by most of us in the journalism and media community because, among others, of his brilliant abilities to “see” and “smell” the news – whether hard or soft news.
Gina had the “nose”, the “eyes” and the “ears” for the “news” – the predominant fundaments of any professional journalist. Gina was a dogged and rounded journalist for over three decades.
It is not that I am impotent to write. The snag has been what can I write about my departed mentor and teacher. And, I am still thinking about what to write.
So, I’ve repeatedly asked myself ‘how can I start this tribute’? What can I even say differently from others? Each time I have endeavored to write something about Gina, I discover that numerous persons have already written well about that particular thought. The reality is that Gina lived a decent life that attracted lot of people. Now, they all have to say something about this great man.
The pages of his Inquirer Newspaper and other media platforms have publicized multiple tributes. These homages have ranged from his kind-heartedness to his classic cackling smiles; from his spirit of altruism to his desire to groom professional journalists, from his impactful published articles to his appearances on the radio to tell truth to power.
Still, others have spoken about how his office and newspaper became a home to all journalists and elements of society (regardless of status or political views) who had a story to be told. Gina was the people’s journalist.
These realities, bolstered by his high intellect and engrained level of professionalism and doubled by his untiring expedition for peace and developmental journalism, show that Gina was everybody’s man.
He cut across every spectrum of our society and his paper gave a voice to everyone – oftentimes becoming the only voice for the uncountable voiceless.
His broad and curvilinear smiles were not fake. He was truthful and actual in everything I saw him do in the public glare (in the public sphere) – whether at events of the Press Union of Liberia, at national occasions, or in the classrooms.
He commanded public respect. He was a professional prototype. All these have been said. What more can I have to write about Gina?
Everyone, whether a journalist or not, has a kind of story to tell about Gina, and 100 editions of the Inquirer Newspaper might not be enough to publish these accounts.
The evidence is built in the fact that since his demise, tributes have unceasingly taken the airwaves of radios, pages of newspapers, and News feeds of social media platforms.
Kings and servants – and ‘slaves’ – have spoken of him. Their sentiments are interesting and paint a glaring picture of what kind of man Gina was.
He left behind a venerable legacy. One outstanding and undebated conclusion I draw from all these accounts is that Gina was a great man, a professional journalist whose example must be emulated by anyone who wants to practice healthier journalism, at least in our society.
My personal experience with Gina, thus, seems to be the only thing left to be told. Come with me let’s see.
Still a high school student, I met Gina for the first time in 1998. I was an 11th-grade student and head of the Jimmy Jolocon High School press club.
The school’s Principal and founder, the late Mr. Emmanuel Doe Weiah – who will now welcome Gina into the great beyond on October 29, 2022 – had a competitive spirit for excellence.
Pa Weiah, as we passionately called him, wanted his school to have the best press club in Monrovia. He consequently scouted renowned Liberian journalists to lecture and train the press club. That’s how Gina came into the picture. It was good I met such a prodigious character.
Gina was like a light that twinkled high into the midnight skies for everyone to see, and Pa Weiah didn’t make a mistake in getting him.
Almost 25 years have gone by – and both Gina and Pa Weiah have kicked the bucket – but I still remember Pa Weiah saying: “Kaihenneh, this man is one of the best journalists we have in this country, and I have brought him to talk to you and your friends in the press club. Listen to him well and you will learn for yourself.”
I did and, today, I am a testimony and an embodiment of Gina’s mentorship and professionalism that Pa Weiah spoke of a generation ago.
I may not have had the opportunity and honor (yes, honor) to work at or with Gina’s well-liked Inquirer Newspaper, but it published dozens of articles including news stories, features, and poems that I authored. I, therefore, see myself as part of the Inquirer’s family where some of my closest friends in the media previously and currently work. I feel honored.
Gina was a father and editor for to every journalist – everyone was his reporter once you took a story with impacts to him at Inquirer.
Gina inspired me and my colleagues in the press club at Jimmy Jolocon, divulging what it means to be a good and professional journalist and how the journalism profession was a noble one. He explained the good and bad sides of journalism and advised us to choose the right path.
As a journalist, he told me in one of our conversations, ‘you will be or must be aware of almost everything that happens in your society and people will come to you…they will look up to you when they want information and clarity about certain issues. They will expect you to know even if you don’t, and they will see you as one of the wisest persons in the community’.
These words sank deep into my juvenile brain. They attracted me to the Journalism profession after high school in 2000. They got me reading all the old and current newspapers I ever saw. I still have these papers 25 years later. I became an unceasing listener to local and international news in my everyday life. I wanted to be a good journalist, not a join-the-list; I wanted to be amply informed to efficiently and decorously inform others. All these have played out in my life as a journalist. Thank you, Gina.
In 2009, over a decade later, after enticing me into the profession in High School, I met Gina at the University of Liberia where he would be one of my instructors. By then, I had graduated from a Journalism school in 2001 and had spent seven years practicing in the newsroom, rising to the rank of news editor. Gina taught me News Writing and Editing (Comm 301) for a semester. It was a great experience with him in the classroom. I got ‘A’.
His lectures, based on his practical experiences in the newsroom, expanded my professional horizon as I got new tricks and methods of writing and editing news.
Today, I am proud that I can write as long as I want, and people make sense out of reading them. I know this because they call and tell me. Gina himself did it several times.
The happiest part of all is that, I feel elated that I now stand in the very classroom as Gina did years back to prepare the younger generation of journalists. Yes, people like Gina laid the foundation for me to be a journalism lecturer today. I am glad I can give back.
When I came from study four months ago and went at his house, he was joyed to see me. “Congratulations, Sengbeh, you have done well…I am proud of you,” he stated with that wild and appealing smile in his wheelchair. I was shocked that one of his legs had been amputated. Those were our last interactions and his last words to me. It hurts.
During my quest for leadership at the Press Union of Liberia in 2009 – in fact, truth be told, he and a few other media heads were the ones who encouraged me into PUL politics – Gina advised me strongly to stay professional by pushing an agenda of what I would do rather than attacking others.
I am glad I did. These pieces of advice set me apart and helped me to win two elections at the PUL with significant margins. Thank you, Gina, you were the winner – not me.
During my days (5 years) at the PUL, Gina was one of the most supportive media big brothers. His institution remained committed to paying annual dues, while he offered critical pieces of advice when issues arose between the state and the media.
I still remember when tension erupted, when the Sirleaf administration imposed a curfew on the media during the outbreak of the Ebola virus Disease in 2014, and when the Ministry of Information attempted to invoke and enforce the draconian Decree 88 Law to license practicing journalists in the country. The decision has a sinister motive of silencing critical journalists.
Aside physical intervention, Gina’s voice on the airwaves and his editorial page were critical of these national matters, often calling for peace and amicable resolution. He was a man of peace and used peace journalism as a weapon to diffuse conflicts.
The PUL will miss Gina at any event going forward. He will not be at our next elective congress slated for November 10-12 in Gbarnga, Bong County. He will not be at the next PUL inaugural Ball; he will not be at the 2023 PUL Awards Night. There will be no one in the hall smiling wildly like him. There will be an invisible vacant seat whenever PUL is having an event. He never missed these occasions.
Gina, I could go on tirelessly and endlessly writing – you told me to keep writing! But, let me end it this way. People like you leave behind big voids so arduous to fill. Your replacement is difficult to uncover in our society just like how we haven’t found a replacement for Catholic Bishop Micheal Kpakala Francis and like National Muslim Council’s Sheik Kafumba Konneh; a historic icon like Martin Luther King Jr, and an African hero like Nelson Mandela.
Yes, we will send you home finally this weekend. But, I can be proud that two phenomena about you will linger on for many decades, aside from your venerated living legacy as a professional journalist:
++ Your hoarse-like voice that told nothing but the truth to power on the radio.
++ Your countless writings on the white and brown-like pages of the Inquirer Newspaper.
You are a big pen that has broken; the Liberian media is shaken. Gina, for now, let me leave you to rest your case, a maxim with which you always concluded your articles. I am still thinking about what to write. Rest well, my papay. dakasen1978@yahoo.com/ 0886/0777586531
