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Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh
Saturday, 22 May 2010 15:47
In this edition of Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh, Mr. Peters Jr looked at the recent imprisonment of gay couples in Malawi and argues why such
a way of life won’t wash in the Gambia; canvassing for England’s 2018 World Cup bid; what he thinks of Justice Minister Edward Gomez; what he learnt from the Chelsea victory parade; and…extremely hot buses!Please read on…
We are too far gone…
I read in the news this week about two Malawians who were sentenced to fourteen years imprisonment for being gay. The courts said they engaged in ‘unnatural acts and gross indecency.’
I also read a month or so ago of dead gay men in Senegal being exhumed.
South Africa was the first country on the continent to recognise same sex couples and there are fears or hopes (depends what angle you are zooming in from) that it would spread to other countries.
My take on the whole debacle is this: if two men think it is okay to widen their rear end, that’s their problem.
One thing I do know is this: gay marriage is something we won’t see in Gambian society circles anytime soon. Not in my lifetime, and I intend to stick around for a good while, God willing! Before you tar me with the homophobic brush (I got a lot on my plate than worry about two men getting it on), look at it this way.
We Gambians are too stuck in our ways of life to take a minute to usher in another totally different way of life. Marriage, from the Gambian perspective, in fact, from the African perspective, is about a couple coming together to form a life-long union and produce off springs.
Gay marriage blows that vital bit right out of the water, which is one reason I think it won’t take off.
If you look at it, Gambians have been doing the same thing for centuries upon centuries. Some homes still have a special drinking cup for strangers, some homes still put aside food for the unexpected stranger, we still put Pa and Ya before people’s parents, Tobaski is still every Gambian’s favourite feast irrespective of their religion, we still eat rice for lunch daily, Benechin is still the top dish for christenings and funerals, we still don’t talk back at our parents, we all love Youssou Ndour and we all know someone called Lamin.
Taking all this into perspective, I don’t see Dodou and Modou kissing their faces off along Independence Drive or Malick and Saihou, both attired in skinny jeans and shirts cut half way to reveal their navels, walking hand in hand on Kairaba Avenue, making hand gesticulations synonymous with women. It might happen, yes, but not in this lifetime as Gambians are too far gone for that.
An Own Goal!
Two weeks ago here in the UK, the FA put it a bid to FIFA for the right to host the 2018 World Cup finals. Two days later, the whole bid was thrown into utter jeopardy when a Sunday paper published that the FA bidding chairman, Lord Triesman, was on record for saying Spain and Russia, rival bidding nations too, were out to bribe referees in this year’s World Cup in South Africa so as to give an upper hand to Spain who will return the favour by backing Russia’s World Cup bid. Actually, it was a conversation with a friend that he made such allegations which, unknowing to him, was recorded.
The timing couldn’t have been any bad.
It is akin to meeting your wife to be’s parents the first time and someone play them a recording of what you think of her father’s rancid breath and her mother’s horrible cooking later.
The FA has swiftly gone on some damage limitation exercise by installing a new bidding chairman after Lord Triesman stepped down and UEFA president, Michel Platini, has come out to support England’s bid but FIFA insisting on an enquiry into Lord Triesman’s remarks won’t help the bid at all. As someone said in a paper, sporting figures can be called anything but cheats.
It got me thinking, was it worth it to pay the source of the story £100, 000 and for a whole nation to miss out on £3 billion, which is what the World Cup would bring on the retail level?
A careless conversation looks to have cost England the World Cup. If FIFA look at the whole thing from a financial standpoint, it is beneficial England hosts the biggest sporting event in the world in 2018. The body is already running at a loss in South Africa and a ball hasn’t been kicked in anger yet and Brazil in 2014 won’t be any great for the coffers, either. Thus, England 2018 should be a recoup. David Beckham, when handing over the thousand page plus bidding book, stated: ‘football runs in our veins and we have a passion for it’.
I can vouch for that, having seen it at club level and national level.
Besides, almost all the infrastructure is in place and revamping stadiums to meet world cup requirement won’t be a money guzzling project as the Olympics.
I know I sound like an unofficial FA bidding campaigner and I am. Football should come home and I want the chance to watch a World Cup match live…in Stamford Bridge.
Hopefully, fingers crossed, ‘Triesman-gate’ won’t slam out our bid when the winning country is announced in December.
Give me a break!
It is normal when you’re in Jammeh’s fold, you defend the indefensible. Nothing less is expected. But, when Justice Minister, Edward Gomez, jumps in, it takes the biscuit, as he is a very learned individual and ought to know better. Had he done a Rip Van Winkle, I would have let it slide but he didn’t. Gomez knows what’s on the ground but chose to say this at a recent gathering: “On many occasions sensational and fabricated stories have received a resounding and favourable echo from human rights institutions. I challenge anyone to prove that Gambia is not respecting human rights. My office is open.”
The names: Ousman Koro Ceesay, Deyda Hydara and Ebrima Manneh, Femi Peters springs to mind.
Next, the honourable minister will tell us the tooth fairy exists or he would look at us straight in the eye and say it snows in Soma.
Yes but…
The UDP held a rally last week and Ousainou Darboe spoke well of my jailed dad. How he was part of the struggle, how people go to jail before freedom was won, citing Mandela as an example and all other encomiums.
I understood all he was saying and where he was coming from but I also tend to disagree. I don’t want a Mandela-like situation for my dad. I know it is selfish but to blazes with the struggle if it robs me of my dad. I just want the man who sired me, gave me all his names, paid my fees and moulded me from a toddler to a boy to a man home.
That’s all I want.
Then the struggle or whatever it is can continue.
Vintage…
I went to Chelsea’s victory parade last weekend and it was humbling to be part of a history making crowd watching the team we support parade the Premiership trophy and FA Cup won after a long and trying season. We became the seventh team in history to win the double. What really caught my eye among the partying of the blue sea were some fans decked in vintage old Chelsea shirts. One had on a 12 year old shirt, one an 11 year old shirt and one had on a, wait for it, 16 year old shirt. That blew me away. Funny enough, it reminded me of my dad who was an expert at keeping stuff. All my ties I have, bar one, he gave me.
‘See this tie is 21 years old. I bought it in London,’ he would say as he gave it to me.
Now, that rankled me the hell out. I don’t like having ties I’m barely older than on my neck, but I had no choice.
Over the years, I think I’ve learnt from my dad as I got a ten year old Chelsea top, a pair of Paco Rabanne jeans and jacket my mum got me in December 1995, among other stuff. They still fit as I had them XXL even though I don’t don them anymore. Looking at them reminds me, despite not liking my dad’s tie speech, or whatever speech he has as he hands over an item, I have learnt something of value from him.
Taking care and appreciating one’s property.
Turn it off, please!
It is ‘ice cream weather’ says the forecasters but someone forgot to tell Transport For London bus drivers.
I got on the upper deck of a bus and noticed all the seats by the window were vacant and all the ones by the aisle were taken. I found it puzzling as the lower deck was packed with passengers.
Maybe they prefer standing, I thought as I took a seat by the window and began to read my novel. I was so into the crime novel I was reading but it wasn’t lost on me I was beginning to perspire freely, long beads coursing down my face, making reading a task. It was then I realised what was happening: the heating system was on which was why everyone in their right mind avoided the window seats like the plague. I vacated my seat in a hurry, almost knocking over the passenger next to me.
Window seats in winter are what we all scramble for as the heating system is right underneath the window. But in the sweltering heat of summer? Please turn it off!
For suggestions or criticisms, please email me at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
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Comments
If he were my dad, i would advise him to appologise to the Gambia for such unneccessary cpomments.... and leave politics because its not for everyone...
Apologies if i come across as anti-gay. That wasn't the tone i got when i read my piece.
Thanks for reading and God bless.
Dugana fi dugana faleh, please, concentrate on other issues u feel more confortable to defend if u want to be safe...
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