Smart Town
By Baba Galleh Jallow
Our little town was a veritable cocktail of spectacles, miracles, and, well,
talkatles, if you know what I mean. Any of our common townsfolk could swear
to you that if you want to see real life adventures not from Sir Rider
Haggard or any Bruce Lee movies, all you need to do is come to our little
town. Not only come to our little town, but come to the big tree in the
middle of our little town where our common sages meet to discuss matters of
cultural philosophy and argue about the great exploits of our common
ancestors.
You know, what is mot amazing about our little town is the caliber of
geniuses we have among our ranks. Great folks like Dr. Homicus Medicus, who
could boast of an unlimited number of academic credentials under his belt
and who could conjure the very angels of heaven under his feet if he so
desired. Dr. Medicus is so popular in our little town that at least one out
of every hundred of our common townsfolk could swear by his name in the
morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening and still call for more. Of
course, our gallant Homicus Medicus himself would argue that ninety-nine out
of hundred townsfolk actually go to bed singing his name and wake up singing
his name and walk about singing his name in a constant chorus of praise that
sinks to the crust of the earth and rises up to the seventh heavens. And you
know what, most of our common townsfolk are inclined to agree with him,
because good old Homicus Medicus is just plain old smarty.
But then all by himself, Dr. Homicus Medicus would have soon bored our
common townsfolk to death and they would have either emigrated from our
little town or stuffed their ears with wool to keep all the funny noises
coming from his side from polluting their sacred sensibilities. The reason
they keep loving our little town is that there are so many other great guys
on the swing in our common streets. On a typical workday, folks could add
sugar to their spice by simply sitting beside the road and watching the
streams of gallant bigwigs sail by. What makes this spectacle worthy of so
much interest is that the bigwigs do not simply sail by in their flamboyant
outfits. They also make it a point to loudly espouse their exotic
philosophies and erudite expositions on perennial questions on the meaning
of truth and justice, of life and death, of honor and dishonor, and many
such topics of vital interest. Mostly, our common townsfolk noted, those
closest to Dr. Medicus usually espoused the most erudite philosophies and
displayed an unusual level of expertise in what became known as the
wiri-wiri tactics of persuasion and preservation.
Consider for instance the case of our famous Homicus Fenikus. Now Mr.
Fenikus was not only a well-respected guy in our little town, he was also
well known for his expertise in wiri-wiri tactics. And he is always quick to
tell all doubting Thomases that what comes after wiri-wiri is jaari-ndaari.
And if you do not believe him, go check it out yourself. But what makes Mr.
Homicus Fenikus really special is his ability to tell amazing stories about
his perceived opponents. Which is why if you are a stranger in our little
town, one of the first pieces of advice you get from our common townsfolk is
‘beware the ides of Fenikus.’ For our gentle friend Homicus Fenikus can
literally build a whole castle without touching a single brick or plank of
wood. And he will build this castle so magnificently that our common
townsfolk can only stand there and stare, open-mouthed, and marvel at just
how ugly or beautiful this castle is, as the case might be.
And then there is the incomparable Homo Solomal of the sliding gait. Homo
Solomal is so unique in our little town that our common townsfolk called him
Mbahal on account of his ability to throw so many spices into the mix and
handle them so well that they come out just fine and ready for consumption.
For Homo Solomal was not only a great philosopher and a patron of the arts;
he was also a great craftsman and master wordsmith himself who, if he were
really in the mood, could tell you that what is not really is, and what is,
is really not. Or he could just appear on the scene one fine day and tell
you that if you wanted to reach the skies, all you need to do is fly. And he
would challenge you to prove him wrong. And of course, none of our common
townsfolk could ever prove him wrong. All they did in the face of such
magnificent erudition is hold their mouths and wildly stare and call him
Mbahal. At which point the infallible Homo Solomal would loudly sigh and
raise his hands and wonder why he really was so smart. But hey, is he not
part of the reason why our little town is nicknamed Smart Town? He sure is.
Thank God for the likes of Homicus Medicus, Homicus Fenikus, and Homo
Solomal, alias Mbahal. They are the proverbial apples of our eyes. Try
telling our common townsfolk otherwise and you will find yourself swimming
in really hot soup. Go Medicus! Go Fenikus! Go Mbahal! Nyangkatang!!!
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