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The Gambia: A narrow look at where we come from and where we are going
Saturday, 12 February 2011 03:58
By Mathew K JallowA grey monitor lizard scampered effortfully up the steep, sandy embankment towards the top of the bushy cliff where wild brush and lazy palm trees swayed gently in the cool ocean breeze high above the secluded seaside bungalows. Far to the right, below the deep blue sky, the mighty Atlantic Ocean, seemingly weighed down by the scourge of a long gone history, appeared uncharacteristically tame and placid for the time of year. Below the cliff, at the edge of the sandy beach, on an exquisitely laid-out bamboo table, and on a freshly cooked plate of groundnut stew
adorned with well-cooked juicy chunks of meat, visible spirals of smoke drifted upwards invitingly. In both presentation and appearance, it looked like a meal fit for a king; or more appropriately still; a meal fit for the boss’s friend. A broad smile sculptured my face into a sense of satisfaction as I looked up to thank the waitress who promptly turned to walk gracefully away towards the open bar. In an instance, and for no particular reason, my attention promptly shifted towards the wide expanses of the mighty ocean just as the waitress disappeared behind the swinging kitchen door. Far out there in the misty distance, below the vast emptiness of space, where the melancholic blue horizon touched the frothing ocean waves, a strange serenity; peaceful and mesmerizing, captured the divine reverence of the moment. It was a picturesque revelation of nature in all its glory; as if it was the majestic creation of the genius of a master painter; Rembrandt, Salvador Dali, Pablo Picasso, or better still, our own master of imagination; Momodou Ceesay. I stared at this blissful divinity of nature far out sea, thoroughly overcome with a curious sense of fulfillment. My soul had found its home where the mystery of the universe collided with the awesome power of nature in all its mysteriousness and splendor. In one brief moment, under the distant hazy horizon, where the infinity of space and the vast expanses of the ocean converged in an awe-striking matrimonial fusion, the wonders of nature, complex and unexplainable, overwhelmed the mystery and the magic of poetic imagination. And as I watched intently, curious, bedazzled and lost in thought, a whiff of soothing, cool breeze suddenly brushed against my face as I chewed on a mouthful of tender chunks of meat buried in aromatic sauce and mixed with djollof rice and a copious complement of beans. At that moment in time, I could not think of a better place to luxuriate in self-satisfaction and contentment. Behind me, in the distance, amidst the crazy rush and bustle of Serekunda, my friends, acquaintances, co-workers; some lawyers, bankers, corporate executives, public service executives, and judges, gathered in our customary camaraderie to enjoy hot, spicy grilled meat, drowned with pints of cold, refreshing Julbrew beer at our usual hangouts; the friendly, smiley Chan Khan-Jallow’s Bus Stop Shops. But now the afternoon was hot. I was hungry. And for me there could not be any better place on earth to be than Leybato Bar and Restaurant. And by the time my friend, owner Saikou Demba, emerged from behind the kitchen door to engage me in our usual small-talk about the news of the day, I had already finished eating the delicious lunch, which only Leybato Bar and Restaurant could create so masterfully and so magnificently. For a few brief moments, as I sat there and relished every moment, my troubles and pressures of work receded gracefully into my sub-conscious; into hidden memory. There was a lot to be cheerful for. It was Friday afternoon. I had a long weekend ahead of me. Life was good. This blissfully depicted scenario, once the true nature of our country now seems so remote, so unreal; as if it was only a mere figment of the imagination, conjured up in the dark recesses of my mind. But the good times were real; once the embodiment of the post-independence renaissance of a nation; the interface of civility and empathy, where people did not go to die; but to live, to hope and to dream. That was Gambia then, but this is Gambia now. Today, The Gambia is a nation in need of a soul; a nation whose character and temperament, once so full of promise, is now baptized in the blood of its citizens and consecrated to the will of Yahya Jammeh. Ours is a nation whose wretched transformation has challenged the consciences of good men and good women the world over; people who refuse to subdue to a sense of fatalism born out of fear, which has done much to corrupt the judgment of our fellow citizens and tame their primordial instincts to survive. From the swarm of colorful birds chirping incessantly amidst the solitude of the forest of far away Koina, to the rolling ocean waves continually dissipating into nothingness; swallowed beneath the sandy beaches of the ancient town of Gunjur, our country’s cries of agony for political transformation, echo and reverberate loudly around a nation mired in desperate ambition to escape the tyranny that has so cruelly consumed its people. As a country, we have become compliant and docile to the point of servitude, but it does not end there, rather, sensing fear in us, Yahya Jammeh has pushed the envelope, and resorted to acts of violence and intimidation to secure the submission of an entire population. And like the cowardly tyrants in North Africa and the Middle-East, his frequent puerile rants and bluster, echo his shameful disregard for the people of our country. Today, a patchwork of highly driven interest groups, all young men and women, have excited a nation of 80 million Egyptians to rise up for the causes of liberty, economic justice, and the rule of law. This sweep of history, which has engulfed the entire Arab world, where tyrannical regimes now struggle to save faces amidst cries for long overdue justice, resonates emotionally with the peoples of our country, who, subjected for sixteen years to similar injustices under an overbearing megalomaniacal dictator, can take it no more. The once impossible milestone unfolding in the Arab world is perhaps a prelude to what may sooner or later come to pass in our part of the world. But the bravery exhibited by young men on the streets of the Arab world, did not arise out of a stroke of luck, rather, the efforts and organizing genius of a few young men and women, irritated decades of pent-up rage, to create the combustible combination that has swept throughout that part of the world. For us in The Gambia, the opportunities to form a critical mass as a bulwark against the tyranny of Yahya Jammeh, have come and gone more times than we can care to remember, yet we have continually failed to capitalize on Jammeh’s many tragic mistakes, in order to seek freedom and liberty for our selves and for generations still unborn. As tragic as it is, every time someone was murdered, each instance someone disappeared, and whenever someone was tortured, it created an opportunity to rid our country of Yahya Jammeh, instead, we have a history of cowering in fear and doing nothing. But now, the good people of the Arab world have shown us a pathway to regain our own freedoms; they have shown us how not to absorb the pain and agony in fearful silence; and they have shown us that the new frontiers of freedom and justice are within our gasp, once we recognize that dictators like Yahya Jammeh, put up veneers of invincibility, whose psychological subtext is at variance with reality. And like all societies undone by social turmoil throughout history, our own revolution will be figuratively blessed with the blood of our own martyrs; Gambians whose sacrifice must never be forgotten, and whose deaths must be an inspiration and a rallying point for our struggles against tyranny. Hopefully what is happening on the streets of Cairo, of Amman, of Tunis, of Algiers, and hopefully of Tripoli, of Mecca and Algiers, will rub off on us and other nations of Sub-Saharan Africa, so once again, we can reclaim and repossess our rights as a free people, entitled to live our lives free from fear, of intimidation, of terror and the loss of our lives. For even at this late hour, we have the ability to turn our past failures to rid our country of Yahya Jammeh into new opportunities; to draw a line on the sand and tell Yahya Jammeh the dying, the tortures, the witch-hunting and incarceration has to stop; that the dangerous weapons he purchased to slaughter our fellow citizens, is enough proof of his objectification of our countrymen; and represents a true manifestation of his lack of emotional attachment to our country and its people. Gambians have suffered enough shellacking and the time to demonstrate pragmatism by graduating from theoretical to practical aspect of our liberation struggle is now. The turmoil in the Arab world can be a catalyst for political change if we in our country can take courage from the revolutionary quest that has swept across North Africa and the Middle-East. The 30 years dictatorship of Egypt under Hosni Mubarak has fallen, and before it is said and done, more will follow the same path. And if this does not serve as a warning to Yahya Jammeh and his elk, then nothing else will. Egypt with the tenth largest army in the world and with the most sophisticated weaponry money could buy, could not save Hosni Mubarak from the peoples power. In the same vein, it is inconceivable how a group of rag-tag Casamance rebels can save Yahya Jammeh from the wrath of the Gambian army and its people. There is one caveat about our military; they fear Jammeh, they serve at Jammeh’s will, but they damn well hate Yahya Jammeh; everyone one of them who has the blood of The Gambia running through his or her veins, even those that he bribes to keep him in power. But the day of reckoning is surely at hand. “Surely the second coming is at hand, the second coming.”(Yeats).
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