Koto Momodou,

Kudos for a well-written and compelling piece. The
commentary was engaging and amusing at times. Gambia
needs a modern literary philosopher culture, and I
can't think a better person than yourself to blaze
those trails.
Again, as the hip hop crowd would say, Big Ups to you
bro.

Abdou


--- Momodou S Sidibeh <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
>
>                                            The
> Fisherman's Tale - 2
>
>
>
>
> Immediately after the presidential elections last
> October, there seemed to be widespread assumption
> that the struggle for popular power was over and
> that since the main opposition UDP conceded defeat,
> it was just appropriate to congratulate the winner,
> close ranks behind our respective national assembly
> members, put an end to the bilious inter-party
> quarrels and get on with the urgent task of
> nation-building. There was widespread fear that the
> disappointments of the opposition parties could
> generate fierce and ugly recriminations of massive
> vote rigging prompting leaders to declare the
> elections as unfair. But what happened seemed quite
> unpredictable.  Not only did the opposition not
> condemn the elections as flawed or unfair,
> supporters of the victorious party went on a rampage
> beating up political opponents as the government
> itself summarily terminated the employments of civil
> servants thought to be sympathetic to the
> opposition. This heralded the opening of a new and
> ugly chapter in Gambian politics.
>
>
>
> The electoral campaign had throttled into high gear
> since the APRC government repealed decree 89 - one
> of its most notorious - that banned the old
> political parties and some politicians of the first
> republic from active politics barely three months
> before the presidential elections. The move threw
> the whole political spectrum into confusion, as
> parties pondered alignments and strategies that
> would on the one hand deliver them from oblivion
> while on the other hand ensure that their combined
> strengths aggregate to an electoral overthrow of the
> heavy-handed, bad boy of Gambian politics. This
> proved to be a task more awesome than the parties
> themselves imagined.  The NCP, PPP, and GPP were not
> only faced with the problem of resurrecting
> themselves from a submarine existence, they had to
> do that with an organisational vigour and
> administrative clout that would create for them new,
> distinct, respectable, magnetic identities. All
> three parties quickly realized that the voter and
> supporter topography had been greatly altered and
> that managing new rivalries became more pressing
> than administering an all too obviously rickety
> coalition.  PPP and NCP, major rivals during the
> first republic were supposed to temporarily stop
> crossing swords to join hands with the UDP, a party
> whose mass base is largely composed of old diehard
> supporters of the former two.  It was also supposed
> that PDOIS, waging a lonely campaign on political
> morality and ethical economics for more than fifteen
> years against the entire political establishment
> would suddenly coalesce with a group consisting of
> lackluster politicians of dubious integrity and with
> momentarily suppressed mercenary whims.
>
>
>
> The whole idea of this coalition was based on a
> mathematical formula which supposed that the entire
> opposition's collective dislike of APRC rule was
> greater than loyalty to their own identity,
> political platform, individual ambition, deep-seated
> personal rivalries, and historical inter-party
> tensions between them; all of these variables, taken
> together, command more importance than most people
> believe.  It would have required a miracle, under
> the circumstances, for a coalition to be readily
> built on the framework of some tactical alliance in
> time for the elections.
>
>
>
> A quick look at the structures of and the
> decision-making process in all mainstream political
> parties in the Gambia would show that they all are
> quite undemocratic. Yet without reservation, we
> expect that once voted into power these very
> undemocratic parties must produce governments that
> operate according to constitutional edicts, promote
> and defend civil liberties and operate
> representative, responsible and accountable
> governments. Because members and supporters of these
> parties do not engage in any form of rigorous debate
> free from persecution mania and pathological
> jealousies, where national issues are interrogated
> and prioritized on that bases, affiliation with a
> party is generally not the outcome of the contest of
> ideas. Some other forces must operate to determine
> political allegiance and influence willing
> compliance. Deciding forces in Gambian politics have
> to do directly with how power is exercised. These
> are some of the forces I would like to discuss here.
>
>
>
> The Struggle for Rice
>
>
>
> Approaching it from the east, from the direction of
> Bundung, the new SerreKunda market, with its
> imposing brick façade, stands out as a mammoth
> insignia to a nation desperately reinventing itself.
> Its gray, high walls bemoan a replica of the Mile
> Two prisons, fearsomely confining all its contents,
> including air and light. Yet its smooth curves and
> corners that look like mock minarets suggest a Dogon
> architecture imitating the mosque of Jenne freed of
> her wooden splinters that serve as supports during
> repairs to the building. The overall impression is
> that of strict confinement subdued by religious
> undertones.
>
>
>
> But this abstract impressionism is quickly whisked
> away by the captivating decor of colours and
> materials that dress up the walls. You see rows upon
> rows of imported baseball caps, Karl Kani jeans,
> Tommy Hillfiger jumpsuits, huge sports trunks, Fubu
> t-shirts, Reebok sneakers and an assortment of
> Nike's air jordans, all  manufactured in the slave
> factories of South East Asia, the outsourcing
> el-dorado of the "superbrands". Hand-woven leather
> bags and sandals, mostly from Senegal, also compete
> for space with Dutch wax clothing, and a curious
> supply of plastic toys, Gambia's ubiquitous mades-in
> Hong-Kong. This decor hanging ten feet up the walls
> is an extension of space that the tables cannot
> provide on the outside. So you opt for the inside
> and you get zapped. Instantly. The yelling and the
> laughter, the pungent smell of "netetu" and dried
> fish is hopelessly dissolved by the fragrance of
> local incense and the heavy whiff of perfumed
> clothing; the shrills of bargaining duos, the
> infectious smiles, embrace and laughter from
> surprise encounters, and the constant blare of the
> latest mbalax tunes from scores of competing
> cassette players, the unbearable heat, and the
> abominable dust all militate against your sanity.
> You don't only have to stand the tiff at the
> butchers' but his licensed arrogance as well. He
> carelessly tosses a chunk of meat and bone onto the
> scales driving the weights up. The he quickly
> supplements the ritual by capping your dinner with
> bits of tripe and tells you, one kilo, twenty
> dalasi, take it or leave it. Like the fishmongers,
> being nice to customers is an unheard of luxury.
> Demand for meat and fish is permanently high just as
> supply is permanently low. This is the only place in
> the entire marketplace where you do not negotiate.
>
>
>
> Everything else is for bargaining: you negotiate
> your steps, pace and space, the price of peanut
> butter, a mound of bush spinach, bitter tomatoes, or
> even a meter of mosquito netting. You can bargain
> for a fairer price for bitter-cola, a cup of palm
> kernel oil, cuts of shea butter or a tiny piece of
> smoked cat-fish, or sea snail. The place is
> dangerously crowded, with thousands of women,
> Gambian women of all shapes and sizes, in their
> Friday bests laundered and perfumed to make you
> dizzy; throwing you momentarily off balance with
> gleaming smiles that expose gray-black gums. Their
> distractive beauty, and the sophistication of the
> market place makes men hopeless shoppers. Because
> the Gambian personality disapproves of anonymous
> humans, many assume that part of the market
> population that remains unfamiliar must include an
> unknown quantity of jinns; conveniently forgetting
> that they are themselves, per the same reasoning,
> members of that club of jinns in the eyes of those
> to whom they remain strangers. The market is not
> just a place of old-fashioned economic transactions.
> It is also an important venue for social
> interaction, with a sophistication that beats any
> stock exchange anywhere. You do not just have to get
> food for the family, you have to cook the best that
> your purse strings allow, procuring your ingredients
> under conditions of extreme and deafening chaos,
> while maintaining your sanity to be all smiles even
> when your husband comes home expecting a bowl of
> dinner for which he clearly did not provide adequate
> fish money!
>
> Every single day, women troop to the market to
> negotiate the daily calorie intake of oversized
> families.
=== message truncated ===


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