Karamba,
Reading this brought back memories of Georgetown for me also. it is the place
where everyone in my family was born, except my brother Modou Musa, who was
born in Gunjur. My dad spent some thirty years or more in Georgetown buying
groundnuts in the dry season, and otherwise running a general store which
still stands on the banks of the River, just next to what is known as the old
slave fort, although the roof of the store had caved in when l visited back
in 1990.
l remember the hustle and bustle during the height of the dry season when all
the farmers would come to sell their groundnuts, and leave laden with new
clothes, blnakets and food for their families.l remember helping my dad in
the store, and l rememeber the main market and abbatoire which was a short
walk from our house, as well as the Musa family with their shops near the
methodist primary school.There was also the dispensary which was so well
scrubbhed, that the floors looked like mirriors, and the place smelled like
dettol.l remember my oldest brother taking us to sports day at Armitage high
school, and the excitement we felt at going to the big school.There was also
the ferry which crossed several times daily, transporting people back and
forth from the villages on the other side of the river, as the terminal was
right next door to my father's shop and our compound.
l remember when it used to flood and the water would come right up to the top
steps of the flight of stairs that went up to my dad's shop and our
house.People would take canoes to go to town, and us kids were very
frightened by the whole experience.
There were also the Kankurangs and the celebrations, and the evening dancing
to drums under the big cotton tree that used to be situated close to Jarra
Kunda.
l also remember how the adults would heard all of us kids to the river in the
evening for a swim, right off the wharf that was right infront of our house,
and my trips to the govenrment housing complex near the prison where one of
my older sisters, Yahuri and her husband, who was a civil servant lived, and
where also the Kontehs, Pa Kebba Konteh and his wife and children, Ndey,
Haddy and co. who were my childhood as well as high school friends, and
friends to this day they are. We swam and fished there, and all the fishing
rods were made by my brothers, older sisters and dad.l learned to be an
excellent swimmer there in Georgetown asdid all the kids in my family. It
is however amazing that when my older sister Amiekole drowned in that river,
l never again got into the water to swim. l visited Georgetown in 1990, and
stood to the side watching all the tourists going into the dungeon under our
old house, listening to stories about slavery that l never knew about while l
lived a very carefree life in that house. As l watched, l was standing there
trying to make out all the different rooms and which one belonged to whom,
and which one of them l was born in.l found and identified all of them, even
the abandoned well that was in the middle of the yard. This was not easy as
part of the yard has been used to build a government rest house, and this
had messed up all the old demarcation lines, and the house seems to have
sunk at least a few feet.Somehow though, l just could not reconstruct my
image of the town as l remembered it as a child.It seemed small compared to
what l remember, and there did not seem to be very many people around. It is
still amazing to me though, how much about my childhood in Georgetown l
remember, and the detailed memories l still have considering that l left the
place when l was 7 or 8 years old. That town holds many special memories for
my whole family, so thanks for bringing back those good old memories.
Jabou Joh
From it's source in the Futa Jalon highlands in northern Guinea to where it
empties into the Atlantic at the estuary, The River Gambia has epitomised the
very essence of the people that live on it's banks. Nowhere is that
illustration more vivid than in the island of Georgetown where every facet
of life has one thing or the other to do with this glorious body of water.
From the begining it was the critical component of the town's economy
providing year round source of fresh water that for decades sustained a
highly successful agricultural sector. Commerce also flourished primarily
because the river provided an inexpensive tranportation route through which
goods could be brought or transhiped either by barge or ferry. I remember
being at the wharf when big barges would anchor as the goods for Ellie
Milky by then the most powerful business man in town were unloaded . Us kids
would jockey for the priviledge of pushing the new bikes to the main store if
they were part of the consignment. The river also provided a fairly robust
fishing enterprise that greatly complimented our diets. For some reason the
occupational fishermen tended to be non natives mostly nothern senegalese.
They set out to fish in the evenings and would often stay overnight and by
dawn they would set their catch on the "beteng' . I also noticed that while
women are generally responsible for the food and it's economics , in
Georgetown it is the men who mostly buy the fish at the fish stall. I later
realised it had something to do with timing. Since the fishermen came back
early in the morning, most male heads of household just proceed to the fish
stand right after morning prayers when the prospects are good for a favorable
deal.
The river also provides an important form of recreation. Learning how to swim
is a rite of passage for every kid . Over the years different sections along
the river bank has self segregated to accomodate different sectors of the
society. The kids had their own section, as did the teenagers , females and
male adults. There were sections where people couldn't bathe because they
were the designated areas for those who fetched their drinking water from the
river out of preference over the tap water that was readily available. In the
rainy season when the river level increases , the elders would somehow
attempt to curb to much waddling into the water by the kids. They would
sometimes have the police enforce a time limit of the evening swims or they
would spread word that some fisherman has seen what he was sure was a "guest"
crocodile. The implication being that guest crocodiles are much more vicious
than ones that maybe native. Well ...like any overused threat it ultimately
lost it's luster and was no more a deterrent. I once had a friend remark to
me that a crocodiles' home was in the river!
Beyond the swimming i really enjoyed the recreational fishing especially at
the edge of the main wharf in the evening. The sunset is often spectacular
from that view as one looks at the contours of the meandering waves and
varieties of beautiful birds fly close to the mangrove swamps that hug the
river banks. In the horizon you can often spot the occasional fisherman
paddling his canoe as if he is making a rendez-vous with the birds flying in
his direction. I also liked to hang out at the ferry terminal especially on
weekends. I would watch as people played draft in between trips to the other
bank under the large tree. We would listen to football game commentaries over
the radio with Saul Njie and somehow pick sides on teams duking it out all
the way in Banjul. I learnt a lot from the terminal. It was my first window
into how government entities are to a large extent inefficient and prone to
corruption . They had way too many people doing essentially what three people
could do. The revenue collection and accounting was dismal with very frayed
supervision.
While Ellie Milky has fled to the much more condusive business enviroment of
Wellington Street in Banjul, and the humming sounds of power tillers and
irrigation pumps that once made the muddy plots blossom in a sea of green
have laid silent and given way to patches of reddish grass , and the small
family gardens that once dotted the river banks of the island and supplied
plenty of vegetables have shuttered because there is no one to to take over,
I take comfort in the notion that the river, our river would as it has over
the centuries lay in wait and ready to nourish the stomachs and soul of the
beleaguered people of Georgetown.
Karamba
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