This is a great start Rene. You capture the Kombo environment very vividly; makes me feel nostalgic. Good luck with developing it further.
Baba
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Date: Fri, 27 Nov 2009 16:46:41 -0500
> From: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: [>-<] Re: The Story Of Mam Biram
>
> [ This e-mail is posted to Gambia|Post e-Gathering by [log in to unmask] ]
>
>
> This is a story I am developing.
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> Mam Biram was very cautious, and took notice of everything
> around him, as he walked briskly on the sandy street of Ebou Town. He
> crossed the main highway going to Brikima. He was on his way home from
> the political bureau. This was his usual route, although he took the
> extra precaution of not using the same street every day. Some of the
> streets were poorly lit, and most of the other streets were in semi or
> total darkness, depending on the number of houses that had their lights
> on casting a shadow of brightness on the looming darkness.
>
> On the main highway going to Brikama, the street was crowded on
> both sides of the road, and underneath the electric light poles which
> stood a far distance apart, groups of women sat chatting excitedly in
> front of their displayed wares. They sold roasted peanuts, oranges and
> bananas, cassava and beans with palm oil gravy, and other food items.
> The Odeon cinema, strategically located in the middle of the street a
> half mile from the Serrekunda market, added to the excitement of the
> robust comings and goings of the gleeful people on the street. The
> street became alive with the honking of cars. The laughter and
> shouting, the bantering and noisy din, reverberated into the depths of
> the dark and humid night.
>
> As soon as he crossed the highway, Mam Biram quickly
> disappeared
> in one of the adjourning streets. He avoided the crowded sidewalks as
> much as possible, and most of the time wore a guise that made it
> difficult for people to recognize him. He exuded an aura of modesty and
> humility, in both the manner in which he dressed and the way he
> approached people, that generated a lot of curiosity and enthusiasm
> around him. His public persona was the face of a serious, committed and
> dedicated servant of the people, who was not afraid to say publicly
> what others would only utter in whispers. He exhibited a thorough
> understanding and mastery of the public debate, which earned him a
> reputable standing among his fellow citizens.
>
> Mam Biram fumbled with his keys in the dark, and clumsily walked
> into the sparsely furnished living room. He put the lights on. He
> sauntered into his bedroom and undressed, and then walked back into the
> living room. He made a steaming cup of coffee, and then sat in the
> brown leather couch. He stretched his right hand outward and picked a
> book from the books shelve in the corner of the room. He carefully
> flipped through the pages. There was a wooden mahogany table in the
> middle of the living room, and a portable typewriter sat discreetly on
> a writing desk by the bedroom door.
>
> Mam Biram sipped his coffee and started to read. He had a long
> night ahead of him, and a lot of writing to do as well. He was the
> editor in chief of the daily independent newspaper, The Nation, which
> served as a tool to educate about policy issues and other social and
> political matters. The Nation, also, was invariably the organ of the
> political organization he had helped to found, and was the
> quintessential vehicle of dissent that gave voice to the voiceless. Mam
> Biram used his unequivocal stance against the excesses and misguided
> policies of the government, to highlight everything that was wrong in
> the country.
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> Rene
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