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Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh: Stop the rule of fear!
Sunday, 25 July 2010 00:06
In this edition of Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh, Mr. Peters talks about Amnesty International’s Day of Action,
why a Nigerian couple were lucky to have a Caucasian baby in London, a barking mad idea, lauds a judge, tells off Joe Cole, defends London tap water, agrees with British Olympic chiefs, learnt valuable tips on writing and…HahataiStop the rule of fear!
The above was the mantra adopted by Amnesty International on its Day of Action, on Thursday, 22nd July.
I and a host of other Gambians took part in the demonstrations at the Nigerian and Senegalese High Commissions. It was a typical London weather day: rainy and miserable but it didn’t help in dampening our collective spirits as we made the message clear: that we don’t appreciate mercenary Nigerian judges jailing our people and for an end to rule of fear.
My dad’s imprisonment, the disappearance of Ebrima Manneh and the jailing of Godwin Nwakaema, another victim of arbitrary arrest, were the main cases highlighted for The Gambia. I know what it is like to have my dad wrenched away from us and I wouldn’t want no-one to go through it. However, I feel more for the family of Ebrima Manneh, who haven’t set eyes on their son for the best part of four years now. God willing, my dad will be home this time next year or soon, if his appeal is successful. For Manneh, we can’t help but wonder if he is still with us or not. AI interviewed me and I stated that I longed for a normal Gambia where we could all contribute to national development and not jailed, tortured or killed because we beg to politically differ with those in power. I made it vehemently clear my dad’s jailing was politically propelled and were he part of the ruling party, his freedom won’t have been curbed.
Meanwhile, back home, Jammeh celebrates 16 years since he took over.
It’s been 16 years of madness, in all spheres. My mentor, Baba Galleh Jallow, lucidly broke it down in a 4 part commentary so I won’t bore you all and delve into it.
All we could do is demonstrate our displeasure at the lunacy being handed out from State House to our people. In this case, I hope and pray Ebrima Manneh would surface, my dad would be home soon and this whole nightmare would come to a close.
Consider yourself lucky, Oga…
Genetics experts were left scratching their heads to explain how a black couple delivered a white baby, blonde and all, who wasn’t an albino.Nigerians Ben and Angela Ihegboro of Woolwich, South London, couldn’t even explain the hue of their family’s new arrival. Pale genes skipping generations before cropping up again would have explained the mystery but Ben insisted they have no white ancestry in their family tree. ‘My mother is fair skinned’, he said, insisting the baby was his and his wife did not cheat. ‘My wife is true to me. Even if she wasn’t, the baby wouldn’t look like that. We wondered if it was a genetic twist but even so, what is it with the long curly blonde hair?’
An expert couldn’t explain why baby Nmachi came out the way she did, pointing out that the rules of genetics are complex and it is hard to understand what happens in most cases.
All those I spoke to were of the immovable belief Angela played away and that the male white sperm were too powerful. One stated that cows do not give birth to dogs so why should a black woman have a white kid? A close look at Nmachi shows she has the same nose and facial outline as her mum’s but I can’t explain the blonde hair and white skin.
Ben and Angela should be glad Nmachi was not delivered in some hospital in Surulere but in Queen Mary’s Hospital in Sidcup. How can one explain birthing a white baby when the parents are not to relatives down there? Close your eyes and insert this scenario in a Nigerian home DVD and you get the picture.
Barking mad!
I can’t speak for you all but I was taught reading way back in nursery school by teachers via those Peter and Jane books in the Ladybird
series. Anyone remember that? Now I read of a dog travelling the country and improving reading skills of pupils and have had an extraordinary effect on youngsters.The article says Batman, that’s the mutt’s name, is successful because he ‘listens’ and bonds with children and even paws the pages as they read.
One of the schools where he helps, Arden Forest Infant School in Bedworth, Warwickshire said he had produced incredible results.
‘He puts his paw on the page and he’s very gentle with them, it helps them interact and they just enjoy sitting and talking with him’, said reception teacher Debra Gage.
Er, unless he helps the youngsters pronounce the words rather than ‘listening’ and pawing the page, Batman is just a friendly dog. It is embarrassing that seasoned educationists would think he would help improve the kids’ reading skills.
Someone is really barking mad.
Sense at last!
Last week, I homed in on a judge freeing a paedophile and another giving less time to a baby killing couple. I wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t doff my hat to judge Mitting for chucking out Peter Sutcliffe’s appeal for freedom on the grounds that ‘early release provisions were not to apply.’Peter Sutcliffe, if you are not in the know, is better known as the Yorkshire Ripper, who received twenty life sentences for murdering thirteen women and the attempted murders of seven others in Yorkshire and Greater Manchester in 1981. The serial killer is holed up in Broadmoor psychiatric hospital since 1984 where he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
A great shame paranoid schizophrenia doesn’t kill.
‘Apart from a terrorist outrage, it is difficult to conceive of circumstances in which one man could account for so many victims. Those circumstances alone make it appropriate to set a whole-life term,’ Judge Mitting ruled.
I’m not ashamed to say I love this man to bits. We need more judges of Mitting’s ilk to helm court rooms all over the country. The man needs a knighthood right away.
Over to you, everybody’s favourite granny.
Come on, Joe!
Footballers are funny creatures, aren’t they? Notice when they move clubs, they would be waxing lyrical about their new club, how they
are a fan of the club and they are there for footballing reasons and to win trophies and blah blah blah. Notice none of them come outright and say it was because of the hefty pay package. I have no qualms with Joe Cole moving to Liverpool from Chelsea on a free. I just have a problem with his words that Liverpool are the biggest in the land and what clinched it for him was of the Champions League games he played for Chelsea against Liverpool in Anfield. No one pointed it out to him that Champions League football won’t be played in Anfield this coming season and that Liverpool finished an embarrassing seventh last season, losing ten games or more.Nor did he point out he stands to trouser £90, 000 a week from his new employers.
Joe, pull the other one. It got bells on it.
That doesn’t hold water!
Where you lay your head is your home, they say. I have been privileged to have been born in one of the world’s most influential cities and currently residing in another: umm, Banjul and London.
Years ago, I have staunchly defended the ills of Banjul; i.e, the open drainage system, the thatched houses, the unpaved, narrow inner city streets and the rampaging mosquitoes to non Banjul residents. I mean, that was the place that made me me and there was no way I was going to let others talk trash about it. Infact, I was so ‘Banjulled’ out I remember telling ex Mayor Pa Sallah Jeng I was interested in his job when I interviewed him!
Now, years on, I find myself defending London with the same gusto to non Londoners who are on about the crime wave, the expensive transport system and how us Londoners are not only unfriendly but we always are in a hurry. Don’t always believe statistics, I tell people. Yeah, we have the most expensive train fare in the world but that hasn’t deterred visitors flocking to the Smoke. You would be hard pressed to hear unaccented English spoken on a bus from Marble Arch to Shepherd’s Bush on any given London summer. I know because I have been on such buses in summer.
Last weekend I got a new London ‘accusation’ to defend. I was conversing with two girls from Manchester who have been living here for two years but have never drank tap water as, according to them, it is not safe to drink and even if they do drink it, they will have to boil it!
Last time I was this stunned, a co-worker was care freely working on a joint in view of all during work hours.
I argued I have lived here for a while now and only have bought bottled water twice. Okay, London tap water did taste funny the first time I drank it but, years on, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish Banjul and London tap water if you put a gun to my forehead. Those northern ladies weren’t budging. They warned me to take my health seriously and cease drinking tap water. Suffice to say I talked myself parched but I wasn’t able to make them try a glass of tap water. I put it down to that north and south divide. Southerners think less of their northern cousins and vice versa. But those two ladies boycotting our water like it is plagued? That doesn’t hold water!
Smart move
The English love glorious failures when it comes to sport. Cast in point, Italia ’90 is still talked about like it is a major highlight when they finished fourth. So, when I read that the British Olympic officials are looking for the Olympic team to finish fifth in London 2012, blaming it on increased competition from abroad, I put it down to a new approach of glorious failure: aim low, finish low rather than aim high and finish low. This after a record £550m was spent on the team for 2012. This after the team finished tenth in Athens in 2004 and an impressive fourth in Beijing in 2008, where they landed 47 medals, including 19 golds.
I’ve read lots of thriller novels so can see right through some plots. And I saw right through this one.
It was a ploy to downplay the Olympic team’s achievements over the last two Olympics which, in a way, would propel the team to higher heights and thereby take pressure off the sportsmen and women.
Nice, wise approach.
Maybe the FA should take up this approach rather than talking up England’s chances at every blasted major tournament only to be home well before the final. Wayne Rooney is under pressure by merely tagging him ‘white Pele.’ Excuse me? Er, where are the World Cup medals and thousand plus career goals? Rooney will never earn the right to be mentioned in the same breath as Pele. The closest is Maradona and you have to, er, use a different breath in the same breath. So much was expected of this current bunch of players and they delivered zero. England fans are still spitting feathers at a dismal World Cup outing. No wonder tickets for the friendly game against Hungary have been slashed to £20 for adults and £10 for children, a strategy by the FA to win back the fans trust.
The English are a forgiving lot when it comes to their own stars. Diego Maradona is still loathed on these shores for you-know-what twenty four years ago. Still, I doubt whether Wembley will be half filled for the 11th August friendly. Morale is that low over here. So low I wish I had a spare £100 lying around so I could bet on England not winning the next two World Cups and two European Championships. I would have taken a brazen approach and betted on them never winning anything ever but I have to go sometime, right?
Food for though…
One of my dreams in life is to author a thriller best selling novel and good enough to be mentioned in the same breath as a James Patterson or Harlan Coben one. Even if I fail to do so, I would have achieved, simply because I dare to put myself in the company of two greats.The problem is me. I’m a lazy writer and hate research. I can hold my own in doing a research for college projects but when it come to doing a research and basing a book off it, it becomes Greek. The sole reason why all the fiction stories I’ve done, nothing extra could be gleaned off it. I had thought writing a medical thriller like Karin Slaughter would simply be researching the part you want and let the rest slide. E.g, if a character dies of a heart condition, all you need to do is get a heart condition, heavily medicalize with er, medical terms and Bob’s your uncle.
Then I met Jeffery Deaver last week and he blew that approach right out of the water for me.
He told us fans gathered for a talk and book signing in Central London that he takes a year to write a book, as he has to drop a book a year, which is the contract he has with his publisher. He spends eight months to do his research and four to write the first draft, have it sent away, he gets it back, work on it, finishes it, hire copy editors to chop and change before it finally makes its way to his publishing editor who gives it the final once over and okays it to be taken to print.
I shuddered at doing eight months of research. In that time, I could have churned out an anthology of thirty two chapters, editing as I go along and have it on the shelf while he is still doing his research.
Then I realized that’s what makes him an international writer, having books translated into twenty five languages, millions of copies sold and many made into films. And that makes me just what I am: brilliant ideas, bad researching skills and still off a shelf. Failure to change that would make me the thriller writer that never was.
Hahatai…
In 2001, Liverpool won the FA Cup, the UEFA Cup, the Super Cup and the Charity Shield. Chelsea magazine interviewed an Everton fan on how he felt seeing his bitter rivals winning those trophies. The Evertonian replied: ‘what trophies? I didn’t notice, I turned my telly off!’
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It's infact NOT possible/practical that all can belong/subscribe to same issues & ideas in any healthy & democratic society. Divergent views & ideas are impetus for improved developments for societal advancements. Especially in one as corrupt & criminal like ours under the Kanilai predator.
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