Baba,this is what kay have to say.is that a fair analysis?
---------------------------------
While peeking at this link above, I came across Baba Galleh Jallow's article 'The Sheeks and Goats' which caught my attention. It is a very interesting article and a good read too. It is another of Mr. Galleh's witty socio-political satires. This is not in the mode of Dana Milbank's 'Homo Politicus' though. It is also an easier read than many of Galleh's previous writings I have read.
The author appears to be referring to the corruptive dealings of Gambian authorities and the subsequent socio-economic hardships facing the ordinary people. The author depicts an impending doom over the country as evident and as a result of a strange collaboration of the political elite as represented by Sumbul Ali (may be Jammeh) and the religious elite, the Sheeks (perhaps an improvised corrupted word for Sheiks). The religious leaders/elite have vacated their noble and sacred duty of standing for the truth and became willing participants to corruption and sycophancy. Santafara might have some take on this also. They became the 'goat holders' for Jammeh to 'milk' the Gambian people and their economy. With a twist of irony and mystery, Galleh asserts that "every goat was milked,...male or female...for the people of Hum were all milkable". You cannot help laughing at this point, I guess there is some humor here too.
The name of the country "Hum" itself sounded like some strike of biblical dissaster. For the people of "Hum" the end of times is here because of the unimaginable happenings in the country. Perhaps this is Galleh's central message of the article- a warning of some kind of an end-either of Jammeh's order or whatever hope is left of the Gambia. "A corner of the sky would start rolling and folding like a carpet over their heads...".
Thanks guys.
Baba Galleh Jallow <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
The Sheeks and the Goats
By Baba Galleh Jallow
These were strange times in the land of Hum, everyone agreed. There was
little doubt that these were the end of times. There had been talk of the
end of times many times before, when times looked strange and unnatural. But
all those times had come to pass. Now, there was just no doubt about it
because things never seen and never heard of were happening before the naked
and tear-filled eyes of the bewildered people of Hum.
The great consternation and resounding hue and cry in the land of Hum
bounced back from the skies and drove all the birds from the land. The trees
now stood naked and leafless, the rivers devoid of fish and crabs. Even the
toads in the swamps and ponds had hopped away from the deafening noise
raised by the distraught inhabitants of Hum. Scenes of people beating their
hands and heads against walls and tree trunks and angrily pulling their hair
in the streets were common sights in Hum these days. The more religious of
the people of this amazed land sought refuge in endless prayer, raising
their hands to heaven, and banging their foreheads on the ground, repenting
for their sins before the sound of the great bugle boomed, announcing the
end of days, and before the cackling of the great fire from the east came
and consumed them. Terrified folks gazed at the skies with tear-filled eyes,
wet faces, and running noses, looking for the first signs of the skies
beginning to fold, as they must at the end of days.
This great consternation in the land of Hum was caused by quite an unnatural
phenomenon. Over the past few years, the spiritual guardians of the people,
the venerable sheeks of the land upon whose holy shoulders the moral edifice
of society rested had been willfully reduced to mere goat holders for Caliph
Sumbul Ali. The enormously wealthy Sumbul Ali had recruited the most
prominent sheeks of the land and paid them fortunes to abandon their
traditional roles as guardians of the people and become instead his royal
goat-holders. The sheeks now spent their days and their nights holding still
the goats of Hum, as their generous patron indulged in his most favorite and
hallowed pastime – goat-milking. The venerable Sumbul Ali spent his entire
days and nights milking the goats of Hum. The pious sheeks likewise spent
their entire days and nights holding goat. It was a strange spectacle.
Every goat was milked, whether it was a male or female goat, for the goats
of Hum were all milkable. What shocked the people of Hum was not Sumbul
Ali’s fanatic goat-milking per se, but the enthusiasm with which the pious
sheeks plunged into their roles as goat holders for Sumbul Ali. At every
milking session, five to six sheeks, their boubous wrapped and firmly tucked
around their waists, vigorously pounced on the goats and pinned them down so
that Sumbul Ali would milk them to his satisfaction. Another couple of
sheeks would roughly grab the mouths of the noisy goats so that their
bleating would not violate the gentle sensibilities of Sumbul Ali. Yet
another sheek or two would spread their palms or hold their pious caps just
under the goats’ backside to make sure that their droppings did not roll
anywhere near the venerable person of the spotlessly clad Sumbul Ali.
When the business of goat holding and goat milking reached a fever pitch and
Sumbul Ali gently grunted and repeatedly belched with satisfaction at the
barrels of milk safely stowed away in his enormous milk tanks, his
excitement inevitably rubbed off on the loyal sheeks. At such moments, to
make sure that their share of the milk would be particularly generous and
their overtime checks particularly smiley, the sheeks would often break out
into Sumbul Ali’s favorite song about the kind and gentle caliph whom God
loved so much that He gave him enormous herds of willing goats that he could
milk all his life and even beyond. Sumbul Ali particular loved hearing the
part of the song that told how God loved this caliph so much that He
appointed the best among his people to be his loyal goat-holders. Sometimes,
during short breaks when Sumbul Ali’s fingers got tired of forcing the milk
out of the goats, one or another of the sheeks would suddenly improvise a
heroic poem which he then recites in a pious and melodious tone amid
unfailing ululations and shrieks of passion from his fellow sheeks.
Sometimes, a sheek or two would suddenly see the light, feel the spirit,
prance up, and swirl round and round like the dervishes of old to the utter
satisfaction of the cool-eyed Sumbul Ali and the utter amazement of the
ordinary onlookers of the land of Hum. Those sheeks who fell ill and did not
have enough energy to physically hold the goats nevertheless dragged
themselves to the goat-milking sessions to recite specially composed poetry
or sing Sumbul Ali’s favorite song about the great caliph whom God loved so
much that He gave him the best among his people to be his loyal
goat-holders.
It was this strange spectacle of the goat-holding sheeks that convinced the
people of Hum that the end of days had really come. It was this strange
spectacle of the guardians of the people, the custodians of their great
traditions of truth and nobility turned into singing and dancing
goat-holders for the callous Sumbul Ali that convinced the people of Hum
that the sound of the feared bugle would soon boom, that the roaring of the
great fire would soon cackle in form the east, and that one of these days, a
corner of the sky would start rolling and folding like a carpet over their
heads, and all the dead of the distant ages would rise from their graves,
and the final judgment would be held.
Yet, the sheeks were so engrossed in their lucrative business of
goat-holding that they seemed totally oblivious of what was going on around
them. They were totally consumed by the delightful specter of Sumbul Ali
milking the goats, by the mouth-watering prospect of getting a generous
share of the milk, and the even more delightful prospect of holding those
bristling smiley checks in their pious fingers, or stuffing those bulging
wads of new smiley bank notes into the great pockets of their generous
boubous. For such delightful prospects, yes, they will grab and hold the
goats down so Sumbul Ali would cheerfully milk them to his endless
satisfaction. And yes, they would sing and compose pious poetry for Sumbul
Ali, and they would gladly sing and dance the days and nights away. Were
they not God’s pious favorites? How could they enjoy the great honor of
being the great caliph’s loyal goat-holders if God wasn’t pleased with them?
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