What could have turned into a diplomatic faux pas has instead become a source of humour, cultural pride, and even music in Liberia.
During a White House meeting with African leaders earlier this week, U.S. President Donald Trump surprised many when he complimented Liberian President Joseph Boakai on his “good English,” asking where he was educated—apparently unaware that English is Liberia’s official language.
Rather than take offence, Liberians have embraced the moment with grace and even celebration.
Liberia’s Foreign Minister, Sara Beysolow Nyanti, quickly cleared the air, telling AFP on July 11 that President Boakai “was not offended” by the remark.
“We were honoured by the White House’s invitation to President Boakai,” she said. “No offence was taken.”
A Gaffe, A Laugh, and A Song
The incident occurred during a mini-summit at the White House, where President Boakai stood alongside five other West African leaders, most from French-speaking countries. After Boakai spoke, President Trump remarked:
“Such good English… Where were you educated?”
Boakai, ever composed, chuckled and responded simply that he was educated in Liberia.
For most Liberians, the moment was not just amusing—it was relatable. Liberia, founded by freed African Americans in the early 1800s, has spoken English since its inception. The country declared independence in 1847, and its ties to the U.S. run deep—culturally, politically, and linguistically.
“Beautiful English King of Africa”
But the story didn’t end at the White House. In Liberia, the moment sparked a viral musical tribute by cultural icon and former ambassador Queen Juli Endee.
In the widely shared song, she praises Boakai as a symbol of eloquence and pride:
“We salute JNB, our black president, Beautiful English King of Africa.”
In the video, her band is dressed in T-shirts featuring both Boakai and Trump, waving U.S. and Liberian flags. What could’ve been a moment of tension became a chance to uplift a leader—and a country—with humour, dignity, and rhythm.
Laughter, Not Outrage
Rather than let the comment stir anger or resentment, Liberians turned it into a teachable moment—one that reflected their long history with America and their pride in their identity.
Nyanti summed it up well: Liberia’s bond with the U.S. must be built on mutual respect, but there’s also room for grace.
“Historical context matters,” she said. “Our story is unique. And so is our sense of humour.”
In a time when diplomacy can often feel tense and fragile, Liberia has shown the world the power of turning a gaffe into a song of unity—with a smile.
