Study hard, whatever you do make sure your WASSCE results show FIVE credits including MATH and ENGLISH”.

Those were the words of my favorite Aunt when I was in high school. Those words meant you had to be more than a good student or just passing exams.  Those words were the difference between achieving the Gambian Dream as I know it and just being another neighborhood kid wondering the streets of Jollof. The Gambian Dream was very clear to me and everyone like me back in high school. Go to school, get good grades (including Math and English), apply for a British/American VISA, and get the heck out of the country as soon as you can. Any extra day/night spent in Jollof after high school was considered overstaying. 10 years later the dream is still the same, if anything else it is more real today than ever.

Not everyone can show a hefty bank statement to the consulates at the UK and US embassies.  Not everyone can afford to travel to the UK/US, nor is everyone going to have a good grade in high school including MATH and ENGLISH.  A VISA is a privilege, not a RIGHT, meaning some people just going to get denied point blank period just because. May be you are not convincing enough to the consulates, may be they can see through your BS and they know very well that your trifling behind is not going to study, may be you are just unattractive looking to the consulates, or may be the consulates had too much caffeine that morning and were in a not so happy mood. Whatsoever the case may be, you got my point, not everyone is going to make it to the UK/US….Then what…?

Too many of those rejected VISA’s or who don’t stand a chance to secure a VISA, for them not achieving the Gambian Dream was not an option. They will either experience it or die trying even if they will have to do it The HARD way also known as the BACK way. It is easy for me to just chill in my favorite coffee shop in the US and just type #SayNoToTheBackWay. The one question that left me stoic is that what would I have done if getting out of the Gambia wasn’t an option? Do I have the moral sincerity to question those who are willing to experience this Gambian Dream even if they have to pay the ultimate price? I honestly don’t know….!

In the early 90’s brothers used to sneak in to Cargo ships (dodge ship) voyaging back to Western countries and many Gambians lost their lives during these journeys. Then in the 2000’s brothers get on boats (similar to canoes) trying to sail their way to Spain, few got lucky and many not so much. Recently they are taking the HARD way (Back way) and everyday news of Gambians dying on their way to seeking greener pastures keeps filling my timeline on social media. My point is, shot one door and people will seek for other ways in pursuit of this vague dream. When people are hungry they will do whatever it takes to eat.

Let me divert your attention here for a minute. Visit any American strip club and I am convinced that you will find a person throwing one dollar bills at a naked lady and screaming that he is living the “American Dream”. America define a simple straight forward dream which states that “All men are created equal” and that they are “Endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights” including “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” This dream is well defined and understood by all the people of the United States of America. This philosophical definition of the American Dream is the traditional social Ideal of the US, where every citizen is guaranteed equality, democracy, and material prosperity as long as they remain law abiding and hardworking.

But in the Gambia we don’t have a dream like that. We don’t have a country that is spoiled with opportunities for the youthful population to take advantage of. Not everyone is going to make it by simply been hardworking or law abiding citizens. Success and poverty is like a monarchy in the Gambia, it is passed down through bloodlines. We don’t have a defined Gambian Dream that majority of the people believe in. What we have instead is “Babylon” by all means “Necessary”.

In his annual 2014 humanitarian letter, Uncle Bill Gates predicted that there will be almost no poor countries by 2035. I thought either he is losing it due to old age or he has never been to Africa. That’s not the kind of dream I am talking about, that dream is too farfetched. What we need is just a simple basic dream. We need a dream that does not depend on the mass exodus of our citizenry out of our country in search of GREENER Pastures.

Fellow citizens I think it is time for us to outline a more realistic DREAM for ourselves. I am not speaking of a fairy tale VISION2020 that even the visionary people who envision it do not believe in.  We need a dream that will be the national ethos of the Gambia in which freedom includes the opportunity for prosperity and success, and an upward social mobility achieved through hard work. What we need is just a simple dream. A dream that will see children getting quality education and healthcare and college graduates getting jobs and earning a decent salary rather than using their college degrees as a tool to make their VISA applications look more attractive. A dream that if a person spends the better part of his/her life working he or she should get a good retirement package that will see them well off to their grave. A dream that will make available a sustainable medical delivery with trained doctors, and infrastructures, to keep people healthy and working. A dream that will improve the people’s lives socioeconomically and politically. And a dream that will PLEASE include NAWEC giving us 24 hours water and electricity supply. Is having such a dream for the Gambia too much to ask?

Some may argue that Gambia “Du Dem”, fair enough and I can sympathize with their frustrations. Maybe we will get there maybe we won’t. But until we have a DREAM of our own, a dream guided by attainable goals that every hardworking citizen can achieve if they remain committed and consistent, a Gambian Dream, we will continue in the situation we are in today (Babylon by Force). With a Gambian Dream, we can align our system towards the attainment of this dream, only then will everything fall into place.

We all need to go to sleep and dream, not wake up until we can all clearly see this dream. A dream that can unite us, one we can all work together to achieve. Once that dream is set, then we can work hard to put it into reality.  I know I need one, how many of you are with me on this one?
Gambia Dafa Dem by Force Even if We Gonna Push it Com Motor Bu Paan.

It’s that time of the year again. Never gets old. 15 years on, the pain and agonyof one of the darkest days of our nation’s history remains fresh in our minds. The massacre that went unpunished, persistent ache and sadness of the families and nation with no closure. We pray and mourn.Like every recurring April and year, we’ll continue to hold Jammeh and his administration accountable. They’ve slaughtered Gambians and drive over the blood and spirits of innocent Gambians in those Kanifing streets EVERYDAY like nothing ever happened.

Yaya loses no sleep over it yet we’re having Gambians continue to play politics with the Gambian predicament with nonsense talks of ‘peaceful’ and ‘reconciliation’ chess match.

I penned this piece last year and I’m republishing it as it still represents my feelings and position today. While you are at it, here is what President Jammeh said on April 16, 2000 as he addressed the nation, after he refused to cut short his visit to Cuba. Allegedly, he’d ordered the security forces to ‘kill the bastards’. Upon return, he’d promised full investigations only to reject the Commission and the Coroner’s Reports respectively, and indemnified the killers.

*****************************************

INDEMNITY? HOW ABOUT YOUR CONSCIENCE? 

On December 15, 2012, a former Bad Boy Rapper G-Dep walked into a Harlem Precinct, turned himself in after confessing to a cold case murder. G-Dep owned up to killing a young man on a botched robbery on October 19, 1993.

Twenty-three summers and winters ago this year, a New Jersey man, Steven Goff, turned himself to the police for the stabbing to death of a teenager in 1990. A body that would be found 6 months later in December, 1991. It was so badly decomposed that the cause of death could not be established.

What do these two scenarios have in common? Two people who have taken innocent lives with no witnesses at the time. The perpetrators could have gone to their graves with the crimes bosomed in their chests but their consciences were never to let them be in peace. They have wronged God, the victims and their family. As a matter of fact, their souls that had lived all those years were being eaten up excruciatingly gradually, that were forced to come plain.

WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO ORDERED THE BRUTAL KILLING OF UNARMED GAMBIAN SCHOOL CHILDREN? 13 YEARS ON, WHERE ARE THOSE ON THE GROUND WHO PULLED THE TRIGGERS OR WITNESSED IT? They cannot possibly be of an undisturbed conscience all these years. Who is going to do the right thing and tell the truth?

Conscience is that one faculty that however dangerous and/or evil a man is, could hardly succeed in cheating. You may attempt drinking, smoking or praying them away but the horrendous wrongs you commit would haunt and torment your conscience till the day you die. Now whether that haunting would push you enough to free your conscience of the burden by confessing may depend on the degree of the wrong. The case of April 10/11 in the Gambia is not any different.

On Monday, April 10, 2000, one after another, students dropped. Some took their last breath in those virgin streets of Kanifing others in ambulances and chaotic rooms of Hospitals and Clinics. The smell of Gambian blood blended with tears of unbelief and despair muddied our clouds. Innocent unarmed students were slain in broad daylight. Within a very close proximity, heartless uniformed men masturbated their weapons discharging live ammunition into crowds of children. Their only crime was peacefully assembling in protest for justice for two of their colleagues; a male student allegedly tortured to death my firefighters and a girl allegedly raped from a Junior School in Brikama-Ba. The sameness in these two cases was SCHOOL CHILDREN and MEN IN UNIFORM paid to protect and serve State and People. A Calculated and a very responsible student body, GAMSU, exercising due diligence, had been in consultation with the necessary authorities to have the accused be brought to justice. Realizing that the Government was stalling on any efforts to do what was right, GAMSU applied for a permit to stage a peaceful congregation to show solidarity with their own. A permit request that the Ministry of Interior denied. Determined, that peacefully concocted assembly of students in Kanifing (NOT even Banjul) was to go ahead. The rest was/is a sad history.

14 years on, NOBODY with a conscience would own up to what happened on that day. From the Head of State to the private soldier or police constable on those Kanifing streets that pulled the trigger. 14 years on, they replay the events of the chaotic moments of seeing our brothers falling down from the bullets that escaped their AK-47s. 14 years on, some or most of them have kissed their children goodbye to school/work and welcome them home daily, knowing that they had robbed other parents the joy of parenthood and denied the country of potential resources.

Meanwhile, Mariam and Muhammed Jammeh are ‘enjoying’ 24-hour days of armed protection as children of the first family. Some of the ministers and top Government officials have whisked their children out of the Gambia to study, live and work abroad. What is even more hurtful is that, never have the Government in these long, hurtful and agonizing years showed remorse. There was never any State candle vigils, no public holidays or national prayer days in honor of the murdered children. In fact, the last time there was ever any reference to these events from the State after the bogus findings with all blames thrust at the students for being unruly, rebellious and suicidal, was when they INDEMNIFIED the security officers. I remembered holding onto The POINT and FOROYAA Newspaper editions detailing the irrational reasoning by the Government in not only failing to let justice take its course, but protecting the criminal(s) who ordered the shooting and those who pulled triggers. Indeed shameful.

14 years on, the unchallenged audacity, the preposterous arrogance and machete callousness of an executive to have the Head of Government continue to say that the children killed themselves is scary. Late last year, the Vice President was exonerating herself when she said she was not on the ground, didn’t know what happened but only went on National TV to “say what I had been asked to say”. This was before any investigations could have been done. Well she was the #2 and her boss was out of town. A few weeks ago, the President was having audiences with WAEC officials and said because they have chosen to do away with corporal punishment, students grew unruly and indiscipline. So who is standing up for our school children when the government is putting them in the line of fire?

The Gambia Government is not one of ample testosterone to assume responsibility of its shortcomings. This Government is that 14th Century egomaniac African Man who sees accepting wrongs or inabilities as a weakness and signs of impotence. That is why they find it easier to always apportion blame – thus the constant firing and recycling of low and high-ranking public servants while the heads of affairs remain eunuchoid.

President Jammeh and his regime cannot be any hypocritical than their dealings with the Gambian students. Much of his regime’s infidelity had been towards the students because he is aware and afraid of the insurmountable capabilities of a learned and educated group. Anti-Democratic agents operate that way. So it wasn’t a surprise when they set out for the systematic demise of a vibrant body that clenched its fist in defending their comrades. Venomously they poisoned and annihilated GAMSU by christening NAPSA. The financial inducements and scholarships principally to mute one of the strongest civic bodies into being a closet so bare as a pet cemetery. Our students have been legally prostituted and politicized. Handouts given with the right hand while the left snatched their ostensible innocence. Something, among other things, I’d tried campaigning on when I ran for the University of Gambia Students’ Union Presidency in 2002. An election I’d come to lose.

In retrospect, that massacre of the children in school uniform was the virginal try of this administration at testing the Gambian people’s level of tolerance and resolve for it was the first open assault on a non militant or political group with brute force. When nothing came out of that from any quarters, random outrageous acts followed suit. The culmination of the little ‘justs’ that we brushed off, gave birth of the various magnanimous alleged state-sponsored crimes up to Imam Baba Leigh’s abduction.

Sooner than later, however, those enjoying the blanket amnesty with the so-called Indemnity Clause, ought to know that they haven’t eluded the wrath of requisite justice. Not in the sense of witch-hunting, but for fairness and justice for our murdered children that thus far went unpunished. UNTIL THAT TIME, WE POUR OUR HEARTFELT SPIRITUAL LIBATIONS FOR THE DEPARTED SOULS AS THEY REST IN PEACE. And for their families to continue garner the strength to carry on as this time of the year snails by yearly.

Continue To Rest In Peace!

Gambia marks its 50 yearsof independence this year but 15 years ago, when the country was 35, some ofher children paid a heavy prize when they stood up on April 10th-11th to say noto impunity. I wrote the piece below in 2013. It took me 13 years to put that fateful day in writing.

Gambia 2000-2015: “With REPRESSION established as a standard feature, FEAR has become my shadow,” AiDa.

“It ended with a Commissionof Inquiry, with the state culprits given a blanket amnesty. It ended there, the last roars of innocent and angry children, dead, maimed, sexually abused……it ended…..with a sickening silence for some, an appeasement for others, a lingering suspicion for many …15 years on…..we still remember:”

Read full below (I added info from Gainako.com on cause of death):

“Gambia: April 10, 2000- I remember…15 years on”

“It ended with a Commission of Inquiry, with the state culprits given a blanket amnesty. It ended there, the last roars of angry and innocent children, dead, maimed, sexually abused……it ended…..with a sickening silence for some, an appeasement for others, a lingering suspicion for many …13 years on…..we still remember.”

It started at GTTI around 8am.

I was wearing a long beige dress with white dots. I carried four heavy English books, heading to GTTI for my morning English class. We were stopped at Westfield and no car could proceed. Students wearing uniforms got off the GPTC public buses as traffic came to a halt around GTTI as protesting students shouted and punctured the air with their angry protest slogans.

Despite the hiccups, I was still determined to get to GTTI, I wanted to get there and I did not know why. Maybe it was all down to curiosity. The Westfield to GTTI highway was peopled by swarming hordes of students and they were in no charitable mood. They screamed their anger, bellowed out insults directed at the authorities. Their bone of contention was justice for two students, a boy named Ebrima Barry who died after being tortured by Gambian firefighters, the other a young girl raped by security officer.

As I walked slowly towards my intended destination, some students who had worked themselves into a frenzy, began attacking GPTC buses as they reacted to a determination by the security forces to clear the streets of marauding youths. In fact news had reached us early on that Vice President Isatou Njie Saidy as the stand-in leader in the absence of the president who was abroad had ordered security officers to head to the GTTI flashpoint and restrain the students from staging what was intended as a peaceful protest. The police had earlier refused the students a permit to hold their peaceful march.

I did not see any fear in their eyes. They had simply lost it to anger and frustration. A boy donning Gambia High School uniforms underlined this newfound release from the clutches of anxiety by an inscription on the tarred road which read “We are ready to DIE”.

I never reached GTTI. The farthest I went was the Musa Njie&Sons Gas shop. By then, things had worsened as the violence culminated in running battles between the anti-riot police and the marauding youths. The latter had organised themselves into small groups to confront the jackboots of the state with rocks before retreating to muster more rage, numbers and missiles.

The faceoff was an uneven battle with students armed with only stones on one side and security forces using what the government version of events claimed were rubber bullets (the official account claimed students were armed with guns) on the other. It was a scene reminiscent of a distant but all too familiar scene of the Palestinian intifada I have been horrified to watch on TV over and over again. It was a stop-start affair until heavily armed soldiers descended on them without any sense of restraint and unleashed terror on any uniformed being on sight and within reach.

In their desperation to deal with a situation they were ill-prepared to handle, anybody wearing anything resembling a uniform and carrying anything close to a schoolbag were rounded up with brute force.

Some among the students able to scamper to the relative safety of the few residential homes around the GTTI trouble spot, at the heart of the industrial zone had to change into ordinary clothes. But even this did not stop the charge on them.

How security agents came to know that the students were changing from their uniforms to ordinary garbs fuelled suspicion that some intelligence operatives may have infiltrated their’ ranks and betrayed them to their armed pursuers.

Around 10-11am, some disgruntled Gambians who had little to do with the reasons for the students’ show of outrage joined the fray. That’s when things started to turn really nasty as looting and burning aggravated an already serious atmosphere of carnage.

All along, my hands were laboring under the weight of my heavy books, my movements hampered by my ill-timed choice of clothing, a long dress and high heels. My determination suddenly buckled under the heart-rending sight of the carnage as guns clashed with stones and left flesh and blood strewn on the streets. The human instinct in me revolted by the spectacle, forced me to head back to Westfield as I began hot-footing it home. Just halfway through, I spent more than 30 minutes around the vicinity of the Red Cross headquarters. There men and boys on one side threw stones while security officers (I refer to them as security because I cannot recall if they were soldiers or paramilitary although I could tell they were dressed in plain green) were few meters from me firing teargas canisters and “rubber” bullets.

What angered me was not only that the security forces were handling the protesters with unrestrained brutality. I was riled by the fact that one of them was filming the skirmishes, as a movie director would, taking one-sided shots showing the opposite side and never once brought his camera to focus on the activities of the soldiers.

People were busy throwing stones and disappearing in nearby houses around Westfield. When the stone-throwers got tired of this, soldiers moved towards the Serrekunda market in hot pursuit. There some kind of stability had prevailed as I continued my walk. I walked past the small Gamtel outpost straddling the Westfield junction on Kairaba Avenue. It was spared the fury of the skirmish and wasn’t torched yet. I saw students in almost all the streets I passed, with curious onlookers watching the disorderly scenes as they unfolded in their eyes.

As I walked along Kairaba Avenue, the protest took a violent turn for the worst as information got round that some people had been killed in cold blood. When I reached the GRTS offices, scenes of looting were already overwhelming the Kanifing post office. A paramilitary hapless enough to be left behind by his comrade got the beating of his life. I felt sorry for him, despite the angry feeling towards those of his kind. I was angry that thir response was totally out of proportion to the protest and no one to talk sense into them. There was an element of inevitability about the whole situation.

There were broken glasses all along the avenue and I avoided this chaotic littering by walking in the middle, ( I had no idea why) and not on the pathway reserved for pedestrians. Nonetheless I could not get away from the destruction. My long dress got caught by small pieces of broken glasses. But I kept walking even though my legs were left bruised by the experience. Holding the long dress up, I still carried the heavy books, and hand bag and negotiated the road with my high heel shoes. They were all an assortment of burdensome things, inappropriate to carry on so ill-fated a day.

I felt so tired, the sun being very hot and quickly sapped the energy out of me as the environment around me taxed the emotions out of me. I was left regretting why I had to carry those books.

I knew the turn of events that day was going to be “bloody”. Then student leader Omar Joof, was in that English class I was to attend. Maybe I wanted to test fate.

Waking up that morning I had entertained some thoughts encouraging me to stay in the safety of my home but I didn’t. I chose to go but didn’t dress appropriately. While having my breakfast, I knew something amiss was about to happen, although I wouldn’t in my wildest suspicion feel it was degenerate to blood and tears. I had to live by mum’s rule which was that no one should ever leave the house without eating breakfast.

When I reached Radio One FM, the owner Uncle George Christensen (he was my mum’s good childhood friend) was standing in front of his house with some relatives and friends watching events unfold. An army truck was parked not far from where the Africell building is now located. It was crammed with young men, boys and even girls arrested. Uncle George and a woman he was standing with protested that the soldiers should not take away the girls, one of whom came to grief, crying and shaking like a leaf after she was thrown aboard the vehicle like a useless bundle. The soldiers it must be said were the picture of ruthless inhumanity. They betrayed no sympathetic emotions. They didn’t give a hoot. However, the clamouring for the girls release came to a head as more people joined in the protestation, demanding the girls to be released to avoid them risking sexual abuse.

Few years previously, some girls were reportedly abused sexually while under arrest after the government had forbidden “beach parties” after inter-house school sporting events. The incidents had occurred after troops had raided the beach arresting many, some of them girls.

Back to the present! I continued walking. It was calmer after Radio One, although evidence of earlier scenes connected to the protests like shattered glasses on roadsides, spent stones, cement, sand, were everywhere.

As I took the final bend and walked slowly home, I felt my chest heave up with anger that such carnage could happen in The Gambia of all countries. At that point I let my dress down. There was no need to pull it up. I no longer thought about it. I was now completely away from the scenes of desolation and despair. It was like my spirit watching my body walk, suffering under the oppressive heat of the scorching Gambian sun – my legs bruised and wobbly. I was like a robot, I moved but felt lifeless. By then I no longer felt the heaviness of the books and the long walk I took from GTTI to Fajara.

When I got home, there was an uneasy quiet about my neighborhood I did not like. It was eerily connected to the bloody struggles I had witnessed between students who felt genuinely aggrieved and the security personnel blind in the execution of their orders from above.

I didn’t hear the birds sing under the big trees along the avenue. Everything was silent, everyone was locked up in their homes. Going past the gate, the first thing I recognized was the sign of profound relief on my mother’s face. She had spent the whole morning on frayed nerves, anxiously waiting for news and living proofs of her children returning to her in peace of body and mind.

I thought about those mums and families that waited in vain that day, not knowing where their children were or whether they were even dead or alive. I cried in my brothers’ arms. In fact I could not help my screaming insults at those I held responsible for the incident. I was pained, in fact devastated that the security officers who are meant to protect us youths could be so ruthless and uncaring to our plight.

As long as I could remember in my life, that was the first time I understood what the meaning of despair was. I asked myself how people could let this happen and how God in all his merciful tolerance watched things unfold the way they did that day.

It was time to follow happenings on the radio and so we gathered around the radio. It was Radio One FM, which was airing a show about what happened. A government official came to the radio to lambaste the students saying “they had killed each other”. I was burning with a sense of hate for those who would do anything to crucify the students for everything that had happened, even their own deaths.

The following day, the protest reached the countryside, where students launched their own protests which were also repressed with the same brute force. That day parents whose children did not come back home did the round of police stations and mortuaries. I remember parents camping outside Fajara police station (Kombo station) to see if their children were holed up there. I heard warning shots being fired for some reason. I was angry they didn’t muster the courage to fight for their children. There was something wrong with letting the students fight for justice themselves.

It was just six years under President Jammeh’s rule and many had started feeling the burden of repression and restrictive climate. All of a sudden the new government’s prescriptive TPA mantra “Transparency, Accountability and Probity” were no longer finding any echo. They were fading whispers. That was how frustrated I felt.

Later “Ousman Sonko, Therese Ndong Jatta and Isatou Njie Saidy blamed the students for their indiscipline and for the deaths.” For years I thought that I hated these three for that statement, I only saw negative connotations in whatever they did. Now, I am no longer consumed by hate. It has drained me emotionally while it lasted. I have lost that. But I haven’t forgotten. I have been civil around them except for the VP who I have never met.

To this day I have the feeling that I sailed through what came to be known as April10. It seemed like a dream, walking around and not being seen by anyone – not stopped by anyone. I never really talked about it, but my heart remains heavy whenever I remember. However small this experience is, i was there and I witnessed what happened.

It ended with a Commission of Inquiry, with the state culprits given a blanket amnesty. It ended there, the last roars of innocent and angry children, dead, maimed, sexually abused……it ended…..with a sickening silence for some, an appeasement for others, a lingering suspicion for many …15 years on…..we still remember:

Abdoulie Sanyang, of Old Jeshwang died from a stampede and his death was an accident

Bubacarr Badjie, a student, aged 10, died of gunshot wounds from a high-velocity weapon

Wuyeh Fode Mansally, a student of Talinding Islamic Institute, died of gunshot wounds

Momodou Lamin Njie, a GTTI student, died of gunshot wounds

Calisco Prera, a resident of New Jeshwang, died of gunshot wounds

Karamo Barrow, a former student of the Institute for Continuing Education, died of gunshot wounds.

Reginald Carrol, a student of La Fourmi Institute, Kanifing, died of gunshot wounds

Omar Barrow, journalist and Gambia Red Cross volunteer, died of gunshot wounds

Momodou Lamin Chune, student of Latrikunda Middle School, died of gunshot wounds

Lamin A. Bojang, student of Nusrat Senior Secondary School, died of gunshot wounds

Ousman Sabally, student of Brikamaba Upper Basic School, died of gunshot wounds

Ousman Sembene, died of gunshot wounds

Bakary Njie, died of gunshot wounds

Sainey Nyabally, died of gunshot wounds

PS: The only person I knew out of the lot was Omar Barrow, a Red Cross Volunteer and journalist with Sud

FM radio in Banjul.

The PPP rally in Brikama, seen by many as the re-launching of the party, finally forced out what is seen as the inevitable UDP/PPP political conundrum. For all practical purposes these two parties are one of the same. The UDP came into being back in 1994, at the death bed of the PPP when the new players in town, the Junta made a deliberate calculated decision to ban the PPP and other parties that were seen as stumbling blocks in their desire to take over the country through the political route. The APRC after taking the reins of power through the barrel of the gun, all the established political parties were sent on a political holiday, and most notably was the PPP.

The entire PPP party structure, from “Yayi Compins”, youth groups and sponsors repackaged and created the UDP. The new party, UDP was fathered by the PPP and some members of the NCP elite party players. To sanitize the new structure from the negativity that the PPP was suffering from, a non-political lawyer who was also perceived at that time as someone who could not be tagged with the PPP label, or even a supporter of the party was brought in to lead. Again, it is a fact that during that period the PPP currency was at its lowest value, and no serious political counter to the Junta can be done without distancing from the PPP. The creation of the UDP was a direct tactical counter to deny the Junta’s their plan to monopolize the political space in the new Gambia.

After thirty years of the PPP, the Gambian people wanted something different, and with the wind of change blowing in every corner of the country, the Junta was able to capitalize on this yearn for change among Gambians and lay out every promises to create hope. The final nail on the coffin was the redrawing of the political terrain, and tagging the UDP as the new PPP, basically calling it same wine in a new bottle. During the twenty years of its existence, the UDP still maintains the party structure players of the PPP and the NCP. Even when the ban was lifted and the PPP was reinstated, some of its Yayi Compins and grassroots supporters have moved on and considered the UDP as their new home.

 The July coup has really left the mighty PPP in total disarray, some of its party leaders have retired from politics, a good number have already become comfortable in the new UDP party hierarchy, even the Maestro himself, Sir Dawda Jawara, the ex-president was invited back to the country and retired from politics. The little flicker of hope for the comeback of the PPP was in the hands of none other than Omar Amadou Jallow, the ex Agricultural Minister, who refused to bury the legacy of the PPP. After the lifting of the ban, a despondent party reluctantly made OJ the Interim party leader. OJ initially recognized the difficulty for the re- launching of the PPP as a fully fledge party, instead settled for throwing the party support to the leader of the UDP, Alh. Ousainou Darboe. OJ is regarded by most Gambians, one of the shrewdest politicians the Gambia has ever seen, and understood that the only way to effectively take the fight to the APRC is through alliances with other opposition parties.

 The APRC has not only become very powerful, but ruthless to anyone who dare challenge or pose a threat to their existence. In his attempt to take the fight to Jammeh and the APRC, OJ has been tortured, sent to the notorious Mile 2 prison several times, but he refused to be silenced. From the outset, OJ understood that to effectively continue his fight against the APRC, he recognized the unpopularity of the PPP among Gambian people who were still riding the change agenda, so he joined forces by supporting the UDP in their quest to run against the APRC. On paper, the PPP still existed as a registered party with the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC), but after their leader for thirty years, Sir Dadwa came back from exile and retired from politics, and the rest of the leaders do not seem to have the will to fight for the recreation of the PPP; OJ settled for the title of Interim leader and continued his partnership with opposition parties, especially the UDP. However, OJ never gave up the legacy of the PPP , and even as he continues to work with opposition parties through building of alliances, he maintains the independence of the PPP that frankly did not have an elaborate executive, and the party structure of yester year was all gone – absorbed by the UDP.

 Over the years. most of the PPP campaigns are being waged through interviews and attending UDP rallies. In opposition circles, especially in the Diaspora, OJ has built a reputation of a fearless leader, and as the APRC begin to show its true colors as the worst government within the Africans continent, and whatever semblance of democracy the country ever had was all gone, the thirty year PPP rule was beginning to be seen as not that bad after all. The Diaspora that was the constituency that was adamant in their support to the new APRC back in the early days of the coup in 1994, and believed that the county has enough of the PPP, have begun to revisit the PPP legacy and were convinced that Gambia under the PPP was by far better than what we have now under the APRC.

 The Gambia has become a dangerous place for most Gambians: a good number have been sent packing and became dissidents, others sent to the notorious Mile 2 prison, a good number were either killed or gone missing. The human rights record of the APRC has become one of the worst in the entire world, and to majority of dissidents in the Diaspora, at least during the PPP Government; the Gambia was seen as one of the few countries in Africa with the reputation of having a culture of good governance.

As for the economy, what use to cost Gambians D8.00 to import goods from the outside world is now costing close to D45.00, and the entire Gambian economy is now under the tutelage of the autocratic leader. With this kind of transformation of the political dynamics, it became obvious for Omar Amadou Jallowa and his few PPP leaders that the political realities have shifted on the ground and the PPP legacy has become lot more palatable. Not so fast, you will hear from circles, and the reality is that the PPP party structure has been dysfunctional for the past twenty years and re-launching the PPP will no doubt brings rumblings within other parties, especially the UDP.

 Trying to bring back the hey days of the PPP basically means having to start poaching, and getting the Yayi Compins and grassroots supporters back in the fold from parties like the UDP to come back home. This exercise has not been easy and could even get lot worst. There is accusation of insincerity, untrustworthy, selfish and a whole lots of bad feelings that have begun to emerge among the party leadership of both parties.

 These two parties are in reality one of the same, basically relying on the same constituency, and in a real democratic environment this should be welcomed and very good for the country. But, with the political dispensation in the Gambia, and a possibility of the country becoming a failed state, the country cannot afford the UDP/PPP political conundrum. The country’s political reality is for a united front to take our country back, and build a new democracy that all political parties can compete to win the trust of the Gambian people. The PPP and the UDP should come to the realization that their only way forward is to form a merger of the two parties and come up with a new executive. This of course will be a temporary arrangement, that will make it easy for some of their supporters that are caught in this web and remove the distraction and focus on the APRC and Jammeh. With a new merger, selection of the executive and even selecting of a leader will jump start the first step of a needed alliance, and much easier for the formation of an alliance with the other parties. It is in the interest of both parties to make the move, and it will be in the interest of all Gambians to demand this move from the leadership of both parties. In the absence of that, we will continue to see what happen in Brikama to repeat in every corner of the Gambia. You can bet your bottom dollar that will be the ticket for a landslide victory for Jammeh and the APRC, in fact, Gambians in their numbers will not only boycott 2016 but the opposition parties as a whole.

As a neighbor it is only right that I congratulate you on your 54th independence anniversary from French colonial rule. Nothing is more worthy of celebrating to me (The Gambia) in April more than 04/04, not April fool day, not world autism awareness day, not world health day, not earth day, and not even world malaria day, but April 4th, the day my dear neighbor attained self rule I will also like to congratulate you for your breakthrough in March 2000 from a pseudo-democracy to a electoral democracy that produces a surprisingly free and fair election and the defeat of the ruling Socialist Party after 40 years in power.

 As your best buddy from childhood, we have shared the same food, culture, lifestyle, and sometimes even the same family. I am so proud of you like a father feels towards an archiving son.

But something seems ironical my dear neighbor, there are overwhelming evidence of correlation between the economic development and democracy in Senegal and the lack there of in the Gambia. It seems like the more troubling and backward I become the more prosperous and progressive you become.

Is this a coincidence or what? Please do not take this personal, I am not jealous nor envious of you at all, ok that’s a lie, I am envious of you just a little bit, but no hard feelings it is all in good faith. You and I are practically one, you are me and I am you, sort of, right? Meaning my struggle is your struggle and your success is my success, right? Now you see why I may be confused by our current state in time.

 I am struggling, and you are progressing and neither of us is feeling the residual effects of the other party’s situation. But like I said, no hard feelings, I am very much happy for you. I heard that you and your family are having a BBQ to celebrate your independence and freedom but I didn’t get an invitation. I can even smell the delicious food and the flavor drinks. I think it is because you may have missed typed my address and the mail man sent my invitation to the wrong address…Right? That is it, or maybe the mail man stole my invitation, I never trusted that fool, I don’t like the way he looks at my younger daughter.

Either way I don’t believe that you will intentionally leave me out of your guest list especially during these times of difficulty in my household. Which reminds me, my house has been attacked by arm rubbers and they set it on fire 20 years ago and the smokes/flames are still burning. Amnesty International and her children even stopped by to assist. And UN also sent her oldest son to come and check on me. But you my dear neighbor, I didn’t see you.

I thought to myself maybe you didn’t know about it or saw the smoke. I am just giving you a heads up that one of the patios in your big mansion (Casamance) also caught some of the fire. I have a feeling that you are too busy with your own household problems that you barely notice what is happening on my end. But this is not about me; this is about you and how far you have come since childhood. You inspire me every day I wake up in the morning and look over to your house.

I am very proud of how your musicians, wrestlers, entertainers, religious leaders and political prostitutes are always granted invitations to my back yard by the same gang leader who holds me and my family at gun point for 20 years. They receive gifts (both material and financial) worth lots of money from Babili Mansa. Do you remember that chic with the big loppy juice? I think her name is Ndey Gaye, yep that is her name, she reported some time ago that her and her colleagues were given lots of millions for shaking it for the gang leader. I think that requires a special recognition because I and my children are starving.

 Our medical system is a failure. Our educational system is a shame. Our energy company is a disgrace. Our religious leaders are getting jailed. Our oppositions are getting intimidated. Our economy depends on western union. But for some reason, you my dear friend and your family have successfully manage to come to my back yard and collect money in lump sums all the time.

Your tourism industry seems to be booming as more western countries label my house as a dictatorial household and avoid it for security reasons. Many businesses are leaving my house and coming to establish their businesses in your house. Major NGO’s and donor institutions are now choosing Senegal over the Gambia. All this things left me wondering if I were you, will I ever be interested in the development of my household? Hmmmmm…scary thought. But again, no hard feelings, it is not your fault that I cannot put my house in order. It is simply opportunity cost. You are such a good neighbor after all.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends”. In this case I will very much remember the parties and the booty shaking competitions taking place in my own house that I am not invited to, but you my dear neighbor and your family are always listed on the VIP list. That deserve an honorable mention and once again congrats.

If my neighbor’s house is on fire I should not just sit around and say it is not my problem, my neighbors have to put out his/ her fire. A good neighbor will pick up his/her garden hose, plug it to his/her hydrant and help put out the fire. But he/she will not used the opportunity of a neighbor’s house on fire to BBQ and Grill his/her chicken wings and prime ribs. There is a saying that one man’s meat is another man’s poison. No truer statement describes our current relationship right now.

 I am not asking you to put out the fire in my house for me, I am only asking you to borrow me your garden hose and may be lend a hand. And if you cannot do any of that, please I am begging you for the sake of my young children do not grill your meat from the flames flying out of my house. That is not neighborly at all. And I repeat, I am not asking you to put off the fire for me nor am I saying that it is your obligation to lend a hand. What I am asking you to do is that if you cannot help put out the fire in my house and get rid of the arm rubbers, please do not come to my house to grill your meat with the gangsters who set my house on fire.

While you and your children are enjoying your chicken legs and lamp ribs, I and my children will be starving here and busy working to put out the fire. Once again, happy Independence Day and may God continue to bless Senegal and her children.

Sincerely Your Neighbor

The Gambia.