I must tell you we have had sir and this is going to be another special session. Im delighted to be here at the history and biography stage. Have to admit that im a pretty history geek and personally this is meaning so much to me. First i want to sing and im not a singer but i have to sing for Helene Cooper as a reporter. Join the New York Times in 2004 as an assistant editorol page editor and has been a diplomatics comedy for the time as well as a White House Correspondent and now the pentagon reporter for the paper, and in 2015, she was part of the team that won the Pulitzer Prize for international reporting, specifically for her work in liberia during the ebola epidemic and that sameyearold she received the prestigious george polk award and the overseas press club award. Prior to joining the times she spent 12 years with the wall street journal, where she was an assistant bureau he could of the journals washington bureau. And i know that many of you are fans like i am of seeing her on sunday mornings, giving insightful, thoughtful, words for us all to think about. Now, long before her life working high profile jobs in the countrys top papers she experienced first hand what it means to be swept up in the Larger Forces that make front page news. Her best selling memoir, the house that sugar beach, in search of a lost african childhood, published [applause] published in 2008, poignantly describes a world upended. The book begins with coopers happy, secure upbringing a part of, quote, what passed for the landed gentry upper class of africas First Independent country. The overthrow of the liberian government in the 1980s, brought chaos, violence and tragedy to her own family, who were forced to plea to america. And move with unsparing prose she recounts the past and her ultimate return to liberia more than two decades after a near death experience in iraq. Her newest book, madam president , the extraordinary journey of Ellen Johnson sirleaf extended her work to biography who becamed the leader thereof Womens Movement and the first democratic include elected female president in african history, and in 2011, you can give a hand for that. And in 201 received the nobel peace prize. Were all thankful that miss cooper has returned to her birth place to write this book, and her book is impressive for both the detail and insight in providing something that we can all look to. He is reserved in her personal life and presidency is examined in this book. We are all thankful that miss cooper is extending her writing career to biography and history and we look so forward to having her talk and be with us today. At the close of her talk youll have a chance to ask her questions at microphone you see set up on the aisle. You should know that this is being live streamed and you are on camera and you will be archived at the library of congress. So, make these questions good. So, please, join me in giving a warm welcome to miss Helene Cooper. [applause] hello. Thank you for the introduction, i woke up this american to rain and i thought nobody would come so im happy to see you managed to make it. Youer like myself, book lovers. For me, this book began 12 years ago while i was on a reporting trip in eastern congo. I didnt know it at the time next realized in the moment when significant things are happening, at least i dont. Id been on assignment for the New York Times in eastern congo as part of a series of stories i was writing about development in africa. I went to ghana, to ethiopia, to kenya, and i remembered at each place i kept thinking despite the poverty and challenges none of them seemed as bad off as my own home country of liberia which just came out of two decade of civil war, until i got to the congo. Oh, finally, now im home; i thought, is a crawled out of the small single engine plane. After the semi desert of ethiopia and the savannahs of kenya. Conga was other worldly wash. Just like my home country of like beera. Leaf good green mountains, the same landscape in liberia and the same sense of abandonment that comes from having a population ravaged by years of opinion i pointless lazy. Hundreds of boys trolled the streets where nowhere to go. Downtown building were marked with holes from rockets and grenade. The only cars are the white u. N. Suv vans. What struck my most in bukabu were the women. As i drove into the city, i passed women i had known all my life they were old will with huge bundle offed bamboo sticks on the back. Market women in colorful dresses, huddled at the side of the remarked selling oranges, eggs, not they were young girls sitting in from of huts, bathing their Little Brothers and sisters in rubber buckets. No electricity was anywhere around. But one tenyearold girl dragged a bucket of dirty creek water up the hill to her husband soso she could wash her fouryearold sister. This their women i had green up with in liberia. The women all across africa, the worst place there is to be a woman, who somehow managed to carry that entire continent on their back. I remember one woman in particular who stood out to me in bukabu. It was twilight and she was trudging up the hill. Her husband was walking in front of her and carried nothing. Nothing on his back, nothing in his hands, nothing. He kept turning around and telling her to hurry up. That image has stayed with me for 12 years. Other a few months after my trip is i was back in the United States when the women of liberia, my home country, staged an incredible power play. Defying centuries of history in the most patriarchal of places they went to polls and statemented a democratic coup. Upsending years of male rule and voted for Ellen Johnson sirleaf to be president of africa. The first democratically elected woman in africa. Knew instant ily i wanted to write about this. The book loafed at the what happened. A book at Ellen Johnson sirleaf and what it took 0 upend the years of mail rule in liberia. Also a book about what drive the women who put her in power. And it is a book that looks at how they did it, how these women got so fed up with being exploited and raped and assaulted, that they decided the only way forward was to turn the tables on the men any way they could in 1985, a young Ellen Johnson sirleaf was thrown into jail by samuel dole, then the president of liberia. She was put in a shell next to men who were sevens ted sentenced to die. Her sat in the cell, her lips moving violently as the prayed, wondering if the soldiers would rape her before they killed her. Hours passed. He soldiers drank and became even rowdier. Then just past midnight, one soldier walked tough her cell, stood at the bars and stared at her. Several minutes passed in silence. Then the said, im going to fuck you. He openedded the cell deer and she rows to her feet, he heart pounding, bust just thats soldier was entered her cell, voice behind him said, as you were. The soldier dropped his hands. Retreat, said the voice. The soldier closed the cell doan door, locked and it moved away. Her savior stepped forward into the light. He was slightly older than the others in his mid20s, with beautiful dark skin and a serious face. Looking at him, ellen wanted to cry. He asked her, she replied. Say something. He said,. Her rescuer stared at for and finally said, okay, i will stay here tonight. Nobody will come. On that night Ellen Johnson sirleaf was not raped. But someone else was. A young girl who also had been captured and brought to the jail was gangrained by soldiered in early hours of the morning as ellen huddled in her cell. Whether ellen would be raped took part as well she would never know. After brutalizing the girl the soldiers brought her naked and crying hysterically into ellens cell she was 19 or 20 she was bleed something and her eyes were wild with fear. Jumping up, ellen put her averages around her lowered her to floor. In corn theirte rocked back and forth, clutching each other. Slowly the girl residents cry softened. Her naked body started to tremble. Leaving her new cell mate for a moment, ellen went occupy the bars. There were a few soldiers Milling Around alongside the one who rescued her. She spoke, her voice shaking. This soldiers looked at her. She tried again. Still nothing. I beg you, at least bring some something for the child to wear remember finally a man left and came back with a piece closet and el lend helped the girl cover herself. For the roast of the night they huddled. Did not sleep, just sat and rocked back and forth until dawn when the soldiers came for ellen. As she walked to jeep, ellen look at her young cell matethe two women spent less than 12 hours together. One was now going to face the man she was certain would be her executioner, the other was staying with the men who were certain to rape her again. The jeep pulled away and ellen town to stare bark the young girl. She would never see her again but in many ways that young girl would change the court of history in west africa. The girl would become another stick of fuel in the fire of the Womens Movement in liberia. Little girls dont come out they ever woman viewing to become activist for female power. Dont spend their childhood publicking how to repair the dignity, large and small, that bleed women daily. Its a series of things that multiply and turn ordinary women into moms of female determination. Youre living your life, sweeping floors in a drug store in monday disson, wisconsin whenopen husband storms in to yell in at you in front of your bowls lady. Youre stunned by the violent shock of a hand slapping your facer delivered by the machine whom whoridge hissed love oh, you. You feel the warm wet skin of a brutalized naked historical young woman as as she crouches in corner, bleeding, a being savaged by the men who swore an oath to protect liberia and her people. I wanted to be a School Teacher like my hour, ellen said, looking back 30 years later. Describing that night at the barrack to me she would use the mental sleight of hand that its common mon survivors of horror. She would rely event with no emotion. The joy ride on the beach which the solder told her would be her execution sight. The useless pleas from condemn men she offend a way to en them be spared. The overwhelming terror of men who know theyre about to die. The overwhelming terror of knowing youre about to be raped. The gut clutching anger of holding a young woman after she has been raped by soldier after soldier after soldier after soldier. Thats what i wanted to do when i was young, ellen said. To teach. The young ellen, the may have started off wanting to teach but this was not a woman who is disstenned for the granular. Her is a different destiny, one launched in a jeep by a young girl who had been her cellmate. The president didnt real it but in locking her up in jail, he created both an international cause celebre and ignited the womens move in liberia. All across liberia young women were rift evidence by the story of the jailed female political dissident who is standing up to the men running the country. Eventually, after a year and under pressure from womens groups in the international community, he released ellen. But he created a monster. The stage was now set for the revolution that would overturn gender politics in west africa. But the men still had one more act to play and it was a doozie. I could stand up here for hours going on about what Charles Taylor did to liberia but that needs to be the subject of his own book. The tribal war he started, the child soldiers this hundreds of thousands of people killed. The wars he launched in sierra leon and the ivory coast. He kidnapped children from terrified mothers, his forces win on a raping and killing spree that spared almost no one. Once again, as they had so many times before, it was the liberian women that carried the country. While the men were waging war, the women in liberia all became market women, traveling by foot to the border to get food to bring back to starving population. They had the babies of their rapists in the forests, strapped those babies thousand backs and went back into their market stalls, or sat on the side of the road selling oranges. And they bided their time. When the war finally ended, they made their power play. In 2005, 12 years before the nation became a secret Facebook Group and im with her buttons and bumper stickers proud sprouted on lapels and suvs here in america their women of liberia held a matter class in how to get a female elected president. [applause] they had a perfect vehicle for this guerrilla campaign. Ellen johnson sirleaf, woman who was supremely qualified, who by for a outqualified the men who were running but also had no qualms whatsoever at playing dirty politics. And fighting any dirt the men would fling with smellier dirt. The election came down to a choice between the 67yearold harvard educated global bureaucrat and the professional Football Player. George was a world renowned Football Player, star in europe where he was a striker for the italian team, ac milan, in 1995, he won the named fifa world player of the year and african player of the century. Two goal inside particular stood up. One was against bayern in 1994 when he embarred three bayern defenders with his quickve pivots. The other goal, known around the world as the goal, was in 1996 when we had destroyed the veronica midfield as the single handed flaunted down the pitch, twisting, turning, bucking and weaving to the verona goal in a legendary performance that liberians who watched itself using their makeshift tiger baitry because there no electricity, still talked about it a decade later. George had no College Education didnt bother it it in youthful supporters who counter the goal shot its own education. At other end of the spectrum was Ellen Johnson sirleaf. Finance minister under former president s, dissident, united nations, world bark, imf ped de, allied, she morph from an abused wife, power and hunched in front seat of heir husbands car while he beat her to an Intern National bureaucrat and iconic political dissent who was attempting to do something no woman had ever done before, win by popular vote the right to lead an african country. The men all fell in lined behind george and then complained the women supporting ellen were sexist. It was a remarkable display. Given the choice between a Football Player with no credible College Education, but two fantastic goals against bayern and verona, and a hard vatter educate development expert, the top male president ial candidates who fell short in the runoff with one exception, ebb doored the Football Player. We have mean while honing his message for why he and not the old lady should run liberia, set on an educated failed was his theme. And that theme was endorsed by the failed male president ial candidates who endorsed him. Liberia had one of the lowes literaciy rates in the world so an illiterate population would identify with a president who dropped out of schooling are right . Wrong. What the men who endorsed that strategy failed to realize is how much the very idea was angering the market women. Those women may not have been educate themselves but they worked day and night in the fields and in the markets stalls to send their children to school. Now the men were telling them that education wasnt important . Just as the men fell in behind gorge, the women fill in behind ellen. It didnt happen all at once. Female political candidates had appeared all over the ballot in elects running for senate and the house, on the same ticket as gorge and tubman and other male candidate. Once the time came for campaigning for the oneover, those allegiances field away as even the women who were stan members of parties halt othosed ellen lazy unity party aan been donned their men and took up the in the mantra, vote for a woman. Doortodoor the market women passed out tshirts and handed out fliers. They slept on the side of the road at night on their mats. Walking from village to village, exhorting women to vote for a woman. We has supporters responded by predict that it if he lost the country would go back to war. No george no peace they chaned. Thus huh runoff start resembling past rae lexes like the onen in 1958 in which dough supporters signatured the same thing. Vote for dough or the country goes back to war. In liberia this tactic was how men managed to get their way. They simply threatened the people. Except that in november 2005, they appeared to have met their match. Because the women had their own tricks. Tricks that would make georges tactics look like boys play. You want give me a voter i. D. Card. Will buy you beer i. Say we buy what i have d. With ten liberty dollars for one. We looking for money. Bring your voter i. D. Card. This group of women were stationed at a bar near a major interject in mon recovery ya. The women set to work luring the young men in a time honored fashion. Except this time it wasnt sex on the table. This time the women were the ones with the cash and the young men were the ones with the commodity for sale. Some of those boys were finish stupid, one market woman recalled with a smirk. She went into detail what about she called the womens crafty techniques women were crafty, she said. One silver tooth glinting in the sunshine as she laughed. Many of the young men that it thaw were done with voting after the first round and didnt understand that they would need their i. D. Carded if their man was to assume they presidency. Others knew and didnt care. Late in the evening of a muggy hot day, the lure of a crispy cold and multiclub beer far outshown benefit thieves vote ird. Card. As for the wins who were too smart to sell voter cards, well, their mothers simply stole them. They stood at tearing their i. D. Cards, looking sheepish and defiant at the same time. One market woman who agreed to be referred to as the oma said she number into their sons room while he was slipping, slipped this voter d. Card out of his wallet and buried it in the lard. Years later there was no shame among the women who stole their sons i. D. Cart. Yeah, took it so what . She said. That foolish and what he knew. Cared him for nine months, tike care of him, fed him. They take the country give it away .