Smart Town Revisited (Part One) By Baba Galleh Jallow Unlike all other towns, life in our precious little Smart Town was always normal. Not even the greatest of storms and tornadoes could disturb the smooth musical rhythm of life in our little town. Come hail come wind, come rain or shine, our little town remained calm and serene, its life patterned along age-old traditions and established norms of peace and respect. Peace on Earth, read the great white banner at the entrance to our little town. The small streets of our little town were paved with air and marked by rows and rows of beautiful thorn bushes, sharp and pricking to the touch, which grew freely and lent an added tranquility to the atmosphere. This meant that when our common townsfolk walked our common pathways, they had to stiffly hold their arms by their sides to avoid getting seriously pricked, or their garments caught in the brambles. Here and there were big trees under which were erected big wooden beds that served as meeting places for the learned among our common townsfolk. There under the cool shades of those mighty trees, they would discuss every subject under the sun and carry on their learned debates, day in, day out. Society in our little town was divided into several distinct strata. Right at the peak of the social pyramid perched our most prominent bigwigs, the fat-potbellied moneybags and fake paperbags who controlled the strings of all our bulging purses and drove around in brand new Pajeros and other expensive cars. These were the Homo Beevys and Homo Rattys, the Homo Luhatis and Homo Jelyebs, the really great names whose mere utterances activated the juicy glands of our common townsfolk. Nicknamed the untouchable homo tohotoho, these our most prominent bigwigs led a life of ease and plenty. They led what was commonly known in our little town, as ‘pramboyal divestyles’ even though none of them was really a diver. The favorite past time of our famous moneybags and fake paperbags was to ride their fattened mares at the golden dusk of our little town, waving their flywhisks at our amazed common townsfolk as they trotted gaily by, and letting out small shrieks once in a while, so as not to be mistaken for wicked impersonators. For of late, some of our dishonest townsfolk with no money and little brains had taken to riding stolen mares along the streets of our little town, pretending to be our untouchable bigwigs so as to be able to dupe one innocent victim or the other. But now, with their special shrieks, the real bigwigs could be easily distinguished from the fake ones, for these could only make strange noises with their coarse and unpolished voices. A rung down the top of our social ladder were our less prominent bigwigs, the Homo Wayhas and Homo Sachas, the Homo Diyamus, Homo Lambalehs and Homo Degalas whose defining characteristic was their nearness to the real moneybags and their expertise at the elusive science of maratu. They made up the administrative cadre of the prominent council of our little town. Owing to their fabled garrulous cleverness and nimble minds, they were also the chief advisers to many a giant businessman in our little town. These had no fattened mares to ride in our golden sunsets, but they owned beautifully painted lil’ donkeys, which they loved to slowly ride before our famous moneybags, cracking their leather whips and waving gaily at our distinguished ladies, often to make easy way for their prominent bosses, often to catch a small glimpse for themselves. Their favorite past time was to hang around our prominent moneybags, listening to their tall tales of gallantry and exploits, and giving advice where needed and even where not needed. They were truly, the most spectacular lot in the social cocktail of our own very smart little town. Next on the social ladder, almost parallel to our less prominent bigwigs, were the quiet ones of our little town: the Homo Norpicos and Homo Mofiseshs, whose defining characteristic was silence, but who nevertheless contributed immensely in making our little town what it was: A lively hub of exciting activity that was the pride of the centuries and all of the other towns in the neighborhood, big or little. These silent ones were men and women of great wisdom and experience. However in our little town, survival, in our true sense of that word, demanded more than wisdom and experience. To be in the real swing of things and perfectly in line in our little town, you needed more brawn than brains, more muscle than experience, or so it really seems. That was why our gentle Homo Norpicos and Homo Mofiseshs decided, at some sad point in time, to withdraw into the background and watch the never-ending drama in our little town with guarded interest. Once in a while, they groaned and sighed and shook their heads and sadly smiled, and flicked their tongues or made a small guttural noise to emphasize their presence; but they otherwise remained very quiet, and simply watched with saddened eyes. They were always misunderstood and no longer felt comfortable in our little world of facts, facts, and more hard, undiluted facts and iron figures where well, you really had to know the hard facts and iron figures or withdraw into your melancholy world of silence. 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