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. 
Why otherwise would our little town be called smart town?

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