Nanditeh sonut...

‘Ehwoo’ (awareness) is blissful, because it’s a state of mind, not necessarily the state you mind. All the tossing and turning at night, being overly troubled by what people think, spending recklessly to keep up appearance, pretending to know it all that you are too rigid to adapt yourself to your social environment are all signs of ‘ehwadi’ (the opposite of Ehwoo).

That’s why while I was obsessing with ceremonial prestige and my (perceived) intellectual superiority, my boy Skinny will go to the Tijania Fashions, buys stuff for five and resells them to me at ten, and he will be like: “Star, I saw these diplomatic stuff and I knew you’d love them.” Then he’d wrap the deal with: “Intellectual nga, belahi.”

Now he has his own shop and drives a BMW, and I, a piece of shit; a Vectra 1995, 'howma' 2002 probably 1988 Model. And no, I’m not blaming Skinny for any wrongdoing. As a matter of fact, I admire his ingenuity. He turned me into a permanent consumer, and himself, an entrepreneur… ‘defa ehwoo.’

I think she can be mayor...

Gambia - June 29, 2012, referring to Muhammed Jah, BBC wrote an article titled: “The Gambian man who made millions without a business plan…” and it got us all wowed and proud of a brother. He certainly had ideas; that’s a businessman’s primary capital. He didn’t just think it a Wajib to blueprint his plan. Now, relating his to my point, and for some of you who cannot even manage a picnic, if M. Jah’s was likely, why can’t Rohey Lowe become mayor for Banjul on her already existing party line?

Anyway, you know what some mentally liberated people call some of these manifestos: ‘public declarations of the same shit.’ Yeah, I know, that’s not a nice thing to say. Let me be more polite and ask: from 19 O’long to date, is there any political proposal you saw that wasn’t as unoriginal, superficially plausible, and misleadingly attractive as it was soon forgotten like a typical New Year’s Resolution? But you still think it’s a life-and-death thingy?

When are we going to stop indulging the scheme of the elite – can’t you see you’re being caused to believe that society should be ruled by those who meet their ungenerous standards? See, my grandfather was an immediate post-colonial MP. He wasn’t college educated, but he did more for his constituency than all his successors combined. So, if Madam Lowe wants to blueprint hers, fine, but to me, if she wants ‘Benachini Perch’ for Banjul, she doesn’t need some formula to tell her okay madam let’s do this:

Chop the ingredients. Add oil. Heat. Add garlic. Wait till brown. Remove the chunks of garlic. Add the onions. Keep stirring. Mix in the pureed pepper. Add salt. Add water. Mix in the tomatoes. Stir in tomato paste. Cover the pot. Is it coming to a boil? Sprinkle in the rice and more cups of water. Reduce heat to simmer. Add water and spices as needed. Don’t forget the cabbage. Wait for the rice to cook.

And that was ‘Benachini Perch’ for the benefit of those who cannot cook. She doesn’t need all that… she ain’t no robot. She can cook. Real cooks know their recipe by heart. We only need to trust her on this. That’s what Obama was talking about when he was talking about hope… and faith. Now we have all seen what happened when America went for El Diablo because he had a ‘platform’ of ‘Making America Break.’

Mitches...

Where I come from, they say: “gohrr, susi johm jogay, dara desatu fa” - when a man loses his sense of worth, he has nothing left. Me... I say when a guy loses his man code, he’s what Kevin Hart calls a mitch. And if he’s as selfish, then he’s a mieech - that’s a portmanteau of mitch and leech. OASN, this is why, today, we have more mitches snitching than bitches ditching and that itches like, where do stitches go when you need one – grrr, hitch!

In the past, if you rat out on a brother, or you don’t see his sister or ex- as off limits unless he’s cool with it, you get yourself a bottle of whoopass after dinner. Today, all that’s permissible. When I was a boy, when a hangout gets busted and X caught with a joint, Y goes all out to bail him out. He doesn’t, in his bid to delegate the code say he’s lost his ID, like most today will say: ‘chaa, star! Mann suma ID card ba reer.’ Mtcheew, that’s why I ride alone - usually!

In Truth I Trust

Here’s what I think: away from what the propaganda is projecting on him, Hon. Halifa Sallah is one of The Gambia's finest minds. Yes, winning is definitely not his political party’s familiar territory, but he’s an intellectual, incontestably, and a transformational leader. So, if he’s not a building block to be treasured, he’s no stumbling block to be unloved - the President knows that.

Even if you don’t ask me, I’ll say this: if The Gambia were a creed and politics a crusade, the infidels and heretics to go after would be the many pseudo-intellectuals on social media, divisive-advocacy groups, picky-liberals and not-so-sociable socialists you see all over the place trying to pitch the man against the status quo, as if goading him into some battle for leadership. 

Make The Gambia great again...

It's always good to hear fine minds like Uncle Baks Touray speak. His memory is up there, and he's so generous with it. Invariably, I've heard the man remind us of how great we used to be, our exemplary performance in athletics, the arts, economic comfort, and buoyant moods.

It's like before oppressed people, we were blessed people, truly. And if Olof Njie is right neh kui yoot'a nayha jangal tooflee, we can make The Gambia great again, and not the Donald Trump typa great - if that guy could, he'd change the Official US Motto: "In God We Trust" to: "In Diablo We Trust." But that's by the way.

What I'm tryna say is: we know better, we can do better, and we should do better. We just need to respect and appreciate each other, and stop pouring cold water on each other's achievements, emotions, ideas, and suggestions. Let's dead the bomboclaat specious convos and spiteful detractions, Gambia. It's so not us; it sucks!

Family is everything...

In the village of Niodior, an Island in Senegal, crime, especially family feud is almost zero, because even the smallest of children are caused to recognise their ancestral history and how they're many, perhaps different fruits, but of one tree. The kids there have a playtime song that reminds them of their ascending line of parentage, and it goes like this:

'Who are you? I'm Omar. Omar who? Tida's Omar. Which Tida? Aja Tumbulu's Tida. Tumbulu who? Ntu (Bintou) Ceesay's Tumbulu... etc. And interestingly, they all end up having at least one common (ancestral) denominator.

How many Gambians can count their lineage beyond the mother of their grandmother? See, that's our problem: the recognition of family is what's broken round here. So we fight against those whose welfare we should be promoting. Today, a typical Gambian family unit has shrunken to consist of two parents (a mother and a father) and their children, and we think that's Toubabeh, whilst the Toubabs are hijacking ours; look who goes to grandma's for Christmas and Thanksgiving.

So I repeat what I once said on here: we need to demonstrate tact and grace in dealing with one another, knowing that we (Gambians) are even more connected than it's inferred by the 'six degrees of separation' theory. And if we pay attention, that belief is made firmer anytime you go to some function and meet up with elderly folks and they introduce you to some family unit that you never thought you had any relation with.

The beauty of tolerance....

A nonbeliever to a Muslim scholar: why's your God showing off in Surah 55; I mean, was it necessary to remind us of His favours? The seemingly irked (Q&A) moderator interjected, but the scholar was like, let him. 

In buttressing his point, the asker gave this anology; said, why should I be amazed if Bill Gates gives me $1? The scholar was like: shouldn't the question be, why should Bill Gates give you a Dollar?

And because of the scholar's accommodating spirit, it became an intellectual discussion; the question so logically handled by the scholar that the asker was eventually ready to make the Sahada. That's what happens when a seeker's sincere questioning meets tolerance.

Swear down, if that were me asking an average Gambian preacher that kinda question, I'd be condemned to hell straight away, like: Subhanallah, brother you've lost your soul. I can't help you.

So by their scarecrow-like preaching, ask them how many converts they've to their credit and the answer is zero, except those non-Muslim friends and spouses of ours that we were able to convince by our own efforts - you know, just taken to the Masjid to render the intention official by reading the Kalima aloud.