Despite occasionally strong leadership and intermittent progress, the history of the African nation of Liberia has been wrought with a good deal of disappointment and more than a little disgrace in recent years.
Sounds a lot like Owls’ football, doesn’t it?
Caught in both these worlds is Christian Dunbar, senior tight end for the Owls and grandson of the longest-tenured president in Liberian history, the late William V.S. Tubman.
Dunbar is a seasoned veteran of the Owls’ struggles, but he has been safely distant from his native country’s strife since he was 10.
His mother, Athelia Tubman Davies, moved Dunbar and his brothers to Woonsocket, R.I., after the “Christmas Invasion” in 1989 that would begin an eight-year civil war.
Most people immigrate to America in search of social and economic advancement. Dunbar found he had less clout and a lower standard of living.
“It was an adjustment at first,” Dunbar said. “All of a sudden, going from being the President’s grandson, going to private schools, getting chauffeured to different places, to just being a regular kid. The biggest change was probably in the way people interacted with you. Everybody wasn’t just around to please you anymore. You were just regular now. There was nothing around your name.”
As the highly controversial Charles Taylor ran the Liberian economy into the ground, Dunbar was enduring the taunts directed at his accent by his new school Change has been Christian Dunbar’s trademark. His roots have been his anchor.
Benjamin Watanabe
Assistant Sports Editor
Despite occasionally strong leadership and intermittent progress, the history of the African nation of Liberia has been wrought with a good deal of disappointment and more than a little disgrace in recent years.
Sounds a lot like Owls’ football, doesn’t it?
Caught in both these worlds is Christian Dunbar, senior tight end for the Owls and grandson of the longest-tenured president in Liberian history, the late William V.S. Tubman.
Dunbar is a seasoned veteran of the Owls’ struggles, but he has been safely distant from his native country’s strife since he was 10.
His mother, Athelia Tubman Davies, moved Dunbar and his brothers to Woonsocket, R.I., after the “Christmas Invasion” in 1989 that would begin an eight-year civil war.
Most people immigrate to America in search of social and economic advancement. Dunbar found he had less clout and a lower standard of living.
“It was an adjustment at first,” Dunbar said. “All of a sudden, going from being the President’s grandson, going to private schools, getting chauffeured to different places, to just being a regular kid. The biggest change was probably in the way people interacted with you. Everybody wasn’t just around to please you anymore. You were just regular now. There was nothing around your name.”
As the highly controversial Charles Taylor ran the Liberian economy into the ground, Dunbar was enduring the taunts directed at his accent by his new schoolmates.
Though he never questioned his mother’s intuition to flee Liberia, he admitted it took time before he realized his roots were a source of pride, not shame.
“As opposed to being the grandson of a former president, I was just ‘that African kid,'” Dunbar said. “You know how kids pick on you, but as you grow older you realize the legacy that comes from your family name. You hold onto it, because it’s important to hold onto.”
His grandfather’s legacy was the definition of stability. For 27 years and seven terms, President Tubman led Liberia through arguably the most economically successful era in the nation’s history.
Tubman’s decision to open Liberia’s ports to inexpensive international trade helped vault the country to economic respectability, and the self-educated leader oversaw the establishment of a university system. Only Tubman’s death in 1971 could end his tenure.
“It is ironic, because my life’s been somewhat sporadic,” said Dunbar, who has spent time on three continents and changed positions four times since coming to Temple. He was better known for his track exploits at Woonsocket High School, but the Owls were attracted to his athleticism.
The setting of Dunbar’s tune-up for Division I football was the semi-pro New England Football League.
He didn’t consider himself a bona fide football player until he was named the league’s MVP that season playing for the now-defunct Bellingham Minutemen. He then returned to Temple, where he had already enrolled that spring, to join the Owls.
Now in his fourth year, he still feels like a nomad. But with an eye on a possible future in Liberian politics, Dunbar believes his travels might prove beneficial.
“It’s given me a different perspective on so many different things, be it offense-defense, be it United States-outside United States, or football-track. I think it’s helped me not be in any mold as to who I am.
“It really shapes you into who you are and what you’re going to be. It gives you a different perspective on so many different things that when you have a competition, you always tend to see two points to every story-or you try to. You try to be somewhere in the middle ground because you realize a lot of things have to be in the middle.”
The 24-year-old is thankful that he has a few more years before he has to set the course of his life. He said he’ll probably be in graduate school “into his late twenties,” and that no one has come knocking on his door to save Liberia quite yet.
But he can’t help but feel the tug that comes from his illustrious bloodlines.
“Even here in the states, when you look at an atlas or world history book, you see my grandfather’s name,” Dunbar said. “Every time Liberia is mentioned, you see his name.”
“I’ve loved the experience of being all over the place. Eventually though, you’d like to settle someplace. To be a part of something.”
Ben Watanabe can be reached at bgw@temple.edu.
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