Saul J,
Thanks a ton. But forgive me if I simply take the insinuation about a book
as a compliment. Unfortunately, I cannot manage to be uncontroversial coming
all the way from Kaatong.
Cheers,
Modou
----- Original Message -----
From: "SS.Jawara" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, August 16, 2002 5:49 PM
Subject: Re: The Fisherman's Tale - 2
> Modou:
>
>
> Well written. I will be expecting to see these documents in a book form
> and i hope you will persist keeping watchful eyes on Gambian politics on a
> surface with an instrument such as your pen. Some of your ideas might be
a
> little controversial to me, but it is how you perceive things.
>
> A skillfully written document!
>
> Thanks for sharing!
>
> SS.Jawara
> Stockholm, Sweden.
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Momodou S Sidibeh" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Thursday, August 15, 2002 5:04 PM
> Subject: The Fisherman's Tale - 2
>
>
>
>
> 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 government repealed decree 89 - one of its most notorious - that banned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. Every, single, day. The permanent struggle
for
> rice begins here; a struggle that, because it is biologically more
> compelling than any other, determines all kinds of allegiances.
>
>
>
> The Struggle For Rice
>
>
>
> Gambian women have remained food crops cultivators for as long as we can
> remember. Working in the fields all year round, intermittently switch form
> the rice fields to the vegetable gardens during planting seasons, modern
> Africa has survived thanks to the back-breaking toil of our mothers and
> sisters. Since the commercialization of Gambian agriculture in the 1920s,
> men invariably proved their manhood by concentrating on groundnut
> cultivation directly and indirectly sustaining the colonial economy while
> funding a feudal system that fed a backward patriarchy. They remained
> pauperized ever since and no wonder, they could never understand why, on
> their own land, houses and huts they constructed should have to be paid
for
> as yard or hut tax to the colonial administrators. The anarchic and
violent
> character of Gambian Islam had, by the turn of the century, began to
> subside; and by the time Musa Molloh was banished to Sierra Leone in 1919,
> people on both banks of the river had settled into a relatively peaceful
> coexistence with the colonial administration. Groundnuts, sorghum, and
> millet being major cash crops were cultivated in cleared fields while
> cassava and maize, mostly grown for the local market remained important
but
> secondary. Cultivation of "findi" once important to the Gambian diet,
> seemed to have disappeared since the late sixties perhaps because its
> production is quite labour-intensive, and because it had to give space to
> cash crop farming. (That trend seems to be reversed now). Thanks to this
> sustained agricultural production, Gambians never suffered the kind of
> widespread famine that was prevalent during the past centuries throughout
> the Senegambia region. On the other hand seasonal hunger, caused by
> intermittent poor rainfall and drought occasionally plunged the entire
> country into harrowing food shortages that in turn forced entire
communities
> to live on the rim of chronic malnutrition. The hungry season in Gambia is
> chronicled in a number of history books. In the rural areas people fed on
> grain stored in granaries until the next harvest. But depending on the
size
> of the previous harvest, they may have to borrow food and even seeds for
the
> next planting season when diets cannot be sufficiently supplemented with
> fruits, edible roots and leaves. Eventually, farmers end on getting
indebted
> to petty traders and private groundnuts merchants, who made their wealth
> from this trade and interest rate hikes tied to loans to farmers. Momodou
> Musa Njai, Anton Tabal, and many others made their wealth in part by
> capitalizing on the hunger endured by Gambian peasants.
>
>
>
> Farmers got a better deal on these loans when the cooperative union was
> formed after independence in 1965. Gambian diets were further subsidized
> through the school feeding program that brought crack wheat, powdered
milk,
> canned beef and kangaroo meat, powdered eggs and vegetable oil to the
> schools. Not only students dined on wheat "benachin" but many teachers,
> especially head-.masters, stole a lot of this food to feed their families
or
> otherwise sold it at the black market. But food was also donated by
> international agencies to relieve hunger in the country. And when it
arrived
> it found politically designed ready-made channels for its distribution.
>
>
>
> "Jawara maano" was an apt label for rice, flower, and oil distributed in
> rural areas on behalf of the World Food Program by the PPP government.
> Members of the ruling party quickly claimed that internationally donated
> food was forthcoming thanks to the wise intervention and love of their
dear
> leader Sir Dawda. While there had been incidents of denying opponents of
the
> PPP this food, it perhaps was not as widespread as used to be claimed; yet
> by labeling the food Jawara "maano", known members of the opposition were
> more likely to suffer the consequences of uneven distribution, if not
> outright denial. And like many things Gambian, policy implementation does
> not have to be officially sanctioned especially if the prevailing practice
> serves the political interests of the ruling party. So since the 1970s,
the
> decade of the first international oil crisis and the birth of the NCP, the
> struggle for political power became equivalent to the struggle for rice.
You
> not only are guaranteed a job, a government contract, an import license, a
> scholarship for your son, a bank loan. You are also slated to receive a
fair
> share of donated food. As far as I know, much of this formula remains true
> to this day.
>
>
>
> Barely months after seizing power in 1994, Yaya Jammeh "maano" arrived on
> Gambian soil finding a ready-made distribution network in the form of the
> July 22 Movement. Throughout the country, Movement militants controlled
the
> marketing of this rice, partly expanding and consolidating the APRC's mass
> base while strengthening the financial and administrative clout of the
July
> 22 Movement itself. Yaya Jammeh rice, even though it was of poorer quality
> as it contained a lot of pickings, quickly gained on market share largely
> because it was sold at a price well below that of other brands. But the
July
> 22 Movement, an instrument created to bring about a revolution for which
> there had not been any political or ideological preparation, and for which
> Gambian society was generally precocious could only survive through
> coercion. Through intimidation and using iron-fist methods, it laid the
> groundwork for the APRC victory in the 1996 elections, and was as a result
> the harbinger of what could be seen as the second revolution within the
> APRC.
>
>
>
> Yai Kompin Power
>
>
>
> The legitimacy that the '96 victory accorded the APRC was essential for
the
> party to consolidate its social base. Unable to sustain continuous
> intimidation of political opponents without instigating both local and
> international condemnation, the party simply reverted to using the most
> refined and tested method of winning allegiance, beating even the PPP at a
> game it previously excelled at, namely patronage. But because patronage
> required the presence of a figure from which all power emanates and around
> which all planet-politicians revolve, Yahya Jammeh had to become a Sultan
> extraordinaire. Lacking in revolutionary, traditional and even
> constitutional legitimacy, he had to make his power coterminous with that
of
> the state, exercising personal control over both the security apparatus
and
> the administration. From him extends an intricate web of connections from
> State House to the remotest corners of the country with nerve centers
> comprising of party militants, businessmen, technocrats, "yai kompins" all
> of whom must expressly demonstrate personal loyalty to the President in an
> unending chain of patron-client relationships. (Yai Kompin is a wollof
word
> that roughly translates to Mother of a local association, or simply
> chairwoman). In droves, former activists and power brokers of both the PPP
> and the NCP joined the APRC bringing with them social connections which
went
> on to expand and consolidate the latter's fledging network of supporters.
>
> One well-known former NCP yai kompin, previously a staunch vote canvasser
> for Jibou Jagne simply joined the Jammeh gravy train virtually carrying
> along the entire NCP supporter base in Serre-Kunda East. Like all other
yai
> kompins, she wields enormous social power, distributing kilograms of rice
> and sugar to all party loyalists. Tons of this food were received
directly
> from the President at the beginning of the last Ramadan. Employment
> opportunities, government contracts, presidential subsidies to pay for the
> Hajj to Mecca, and other benefits all are procured through this massive
> distribution pipeline - connections that web together party patrons and
> clients. In the run up to the elections they controlled local propaganda
and
> designed strategies for winning votes, donning to supporters hundreds of
> APRC campaign t-shirts. They harried and startled up UDP supporters from
the
> streets by blowing whistles after them and screaming "Yellow Fever" for
> their yellow colored garb; or they would scream verbal twits such as
"Darboe
> dolominna" (Darboe the drunkard). UDPians would usually retort with
"Jammeh
> daaba" (Jammeh the large-mouthed"). (These were the humorous sides of the
> electoral campaign that we missed).
>
>
>
> All of this fabric of grass-roots support derives from a system of
> dependency that provides material incentives for the effective procurement
> of political power and privilege. And as more money is poured into the
> country in the form of aid and loans, this network becomes bigger and
> stronger even as the president also becomes more powerful. One only has to
> pick from the free flowing veneration gushing from National Assembly
members
> to understand that President Jammeh is quickly becoming a cult figure.
That
> is not just a danger to Gambia's evolution towards an inclusive democracy
> where human and civic rights are respected, but even those institutions
and
> individuals who could otherwise advice the President without fear on
matters
> of public policy may gradually lose the moral wherewithal to do so.
>
>
>
> Naturally, if Gambians are turning in droves to the president to show
> allegiance, one should conclude that he must enjoy some kind of
legitimacy?
> He has since July 1994 gradually earned legitimacy as a national leader
> because of development projects his governments carried out; and area
whose
> true impact seems largely misjudged by most of us in the Diaspora. But
> before going into that, I would like to briefly discuss the nature of
> poverty in the Gambia and how it impacts on thinking and values.
>
>
>
> Theory of Relativity
>
>
>
> The landscape is generally hot, ancient, and unchanging. Peasants continue
> to toil the land hoping that returns from agricultural produce would
surpass
> the previous season's. Once in a while heads of large families would
harvest
> handsomely, so that the old man gets a second wife, buys a new bicycle or
a
> transistor radio, cuts new school uniforms for the boys. But generally, it
> is never this rosy for most families. Unable to provide aluminium roofing
> for the house, they manage to barely survive during the coming rains.
Unable
> to save a penny after a lifetime of toil much of their time is spent
> worrying over the next meal. The economic conditions are almost the same
for
> the armies of unemployed living on the fringes of sprawling urban centers.
> Those who are gainfully employed are barely able to manage maintaining
> decent meals for their nuclear families as they subsidize relatives who
are
> much worse off. Scraping a living in the suburbs of Serre-Kunda has become
> an art form. Some would go to the market everyday without a penny but
would
> come home with sufficient condiments to prepare a meal; they steal from
the
> baskets of others in the hustle and congestion; others would go there
simply
> to eavesdrop on conversations about an actual christening ceremony just to
> scud to the venue for a free meal. My aunt tells me that some would openly
> beg or otherwise steal food at these ceremonies to take home to their
hungry
> ones. The latest trick is to barge into a compound pretending that you
were
> told about a ceremony. The unsuspecting inhabitants will simply rectify
you
> and direct you to the correct address! People are so poor they will do
> anything to survive. They would steal clothes you hung to dry; they would
> steal bricks you made for your construction work; some would even dare
carry
> away your meat stew from your kitchen! Those of us living overseas have
had
> the most original experiences of such social scams. You send money home to
> be divided, and dad would cheat mum of her share; your cousin who is
> supposed to finance your mansion will send you photographic evidence of a
> finished house only to find that there was nothing at all when you pay him
a
> surprise visit.
>
> A friend of mine shipped home a new car to be operated as a local taxi.
> Because of troubles with his own family he decided to let his
mother-in-law
> manage the business and handed her a savings book where deposits are to be
> registered every fourteen days or so. When he journeyed home with his
wife
> for a long awaited holiday, he decided to take a look at the savings book
> while in his car on the way to Brikama. Disbelieving his eyes, he summoned
> the driver to stop at the side of the highway. Squinting, he robbed his
eyes
> vigorously to take another look at the figures. His wife assured him that
it
> was right, 250 dalasi only! He got behind the wheels himself and drove
like
> mad to his in-law. Wildly waving the savings book he seized an axe chasing
> his half naked mother-in-law around the huge compound. The entire
> neighbourhood instantly filled up with amused spectators.
>
>
>
> All of us have heard or experienced such stories of deceit. Gambians are
> becoming more desperate. Without remittances from family members living
and
> working overseas many more would be facing despair; people are worried
about
> their inadequate take home pay; worried about the future of their
children.
> They are permanently disturbed by the plight of neighbours and relations
who
> are worse off; about inflation eating into their pay cheques. Farmers are
> worried about the effects of failed crops as sporadic rains becomes even
> more sporadic, about unsold crops, their state of health, the plight of
> their tired wives, the spiraling cost of rice, candles, fish and medicine.
> Constant worry is their lifelong companion; their lives are giant
> experiences of long endless nightmares that are sparsely punctuated with
> heavy doses of traditional merry making! Their lives are so tasteless they
> compensate it with huge gulps of sugar and oil eventually falling prey to
> hypertension and diabetes. And if you have not understood Einstein's
theory
> of relativity, here is a humble help! Constant worry means pain for the
> great majority of Gambians. Because they are always in psychological pain,
> they experience time to be much longer that it actually is. Ten years in
the
> West becomes equivalent to twenty-five years in Gambia! So Gambians age
> quickly, growing much older by your next visit. If you live a sweet life,
> time flies for you. If you live a hard life, time crawls. (Just compare
> yourself with those childhood friends who have it hard in Gambia!). In a
> permanent state of despair and helplessness, people's moral fiber
gradually
> weakens, giving way to an encroaching tendency to commit crime, cheat,
steal
> and lie, to make life just a little bit more bearable. Thorough honesty
> becomes almost a stoical feat for which a very few are capable. A
ubiquitous
> complaint of overseas-based Gambians is the inability to find an honest
> Gambian at home! Many fail however, to make the connection that any kind
of
> morality is buttressed by production relations prevalent in society.
Gambian
> society, must also, in spite of its lauded biological closeness, be looked
> at along class lines. So this is the socio-economic milieu in which we
have
> to imagine the ascent of a leader who does not only promise development
> projects, but delivers much of it and thereby changing the ancient
landscape
> forever.
>
>
>
> The Infrastructure Debate
>
>
>
> At a personal level, I do not think any aspect of debate on APRC rule and
> politics has been as poorly conducted as that which pertained to the
> development projects governments of the said party carried out. Well
before
> the October elections and months after it Gambia-L pundits invariably
> addressed this issue with intellectually fraudulent and blowzy
doublespeak.
> It was easy to see that much of the debate, precisely because it was
> polluted with politics, turned out to be nothing more than clunky
> anti-Jammeh propaganda. What seemed unestablished at the onset was that
> irrespective of economic policies, development can hardly take place in
the
> absence of a functioning infrastructure. There must be a reasonably
> nation-wide and quality road network, telecommunications facilities,
> adequate utility supply (water and electricity), adequate primary health
> care, and above all an educational system geared towards producing a
skilled
> workforce. In spite of all its shortcomings, the Jammeh regime invested
> heavily and seriously in all these, producing under the circumstances,
> highly satisfactory results! Yet serious, well-meaning, well-schooled
> Gambians cannot bring themselves to say so! Of course, you can always find
> fault with the Jammeh regime, and it is perhaps true that it never got its
> priorities right. Moreover, schools without books or qualified teachers
can
> hardly be called schools; and clinics and hospitals without medicine and
> doctors may simply be well-lit charnel houses. But in a society where
> governments hardly built anything at all, new schools and clinics are seen
> by the poor not only as welcome dents in the empty landscape, but they
> figure that empty buildings are better than no buildings at all; that a
> university that produces half-baked graduates is better than no university
> at all; that paved roads are a very welcome departure from hundreds of
> kilometers of graveled pot-holes that powder your clothes and greasy hair
> with "coco puns"; dusty roads which together with leaded petrol fumes from
> dump away vehicles account for much of the respiratory illnesses Gambians
> suffer from. Perhaps many reasoned that commending the APRC government for
a
> job well done was equivalent to depriving the UDP or the coalition of
> propaganda scores. So it took our friend Mr. Asbjorn Nordam to remind us
> that the successful development projects do not belong to Jammeh or the
APRC
> but to Gambia! And now dear reader, my point is: if overseas based,
> educated, well fed, economically secure, active cyber dwelling Gambians
> cannot see the difference between what belongs to Jammeh and what belongs
to
> Gambia, how will hungry, poor, spiritually drained, pained, exhausted, and
> illiterate Gambians such as I described earlier, see the same difference?
> How?
>
>
>
> Not so long ago Buharry Gassama provoked a discussion on Gambia-L by
asking
> why the Western media seems always hell bent on providing visual images of
> Africa in the forms of grass huts and dusty cave-like dwellings, or
> something to that effect. Western journalists deliberately portray Africa
as
> dusty and primitive but their actions do not produce the intended effect.
> Those images are so disturbing and embarrassing to Africans that almost
all
> of us automatically desire to change them! And throughout our lives our
own
> background of relative material poverty compels us to alter the images as
> soon as we get the means of doing so. As a result, from Sweden and from
all
> over the West the first thing Gambians do is to commission the
construction
> of dwellings for our families and ourselves as a way to escape from that
> primitive imagery that we have come to detest so much. By our actions we
> seem to make the strongest possible statement, carved in stone and bricks
> (!) that our own development is coextensive with putting up huge mansions
> (by average Gambian standards) caring little whether or not the immediate
> neighbourhood is a colony of beggars. That way we unknowingly reinforce
the
> mentality that development, indeed, consists of putting up brick and
marble
> structures!
>
>
>
> Conclusion
>
>
>
> Then down the road comes Y.J.J! He preached revolution and altered the
> landscape. He rebuilds the airport to everyone's delight; he builds
> excellent second class roads, builds a university, hospitals, clinics,
wires
> up the country to the web, brings on television, and so on and so forth.
The
> poor, relying only on their memory immediately recognize that more
> government sponsored structures have been placed on the Gambian landscape
> during the last six years of the 20th century than the previous
ninety-four.
> Right here, the most important theoretical explanation that immediately
> comes to mind is Marxian dialectics. Changes in the environment, even if
> not directly caused by changes in the mode of production, can affect
> consciousness in ways so important as to be able to reciprocally affect
the
> very environment that changed it in the first place. Yahya Jammeh has not
> just shown that it is possible to "develop" the country. He has also
created
> a relativistic precedent that compels the performance of subsequent
leaders
> to be compared to what he did. And not only that.
>
> The development of the infrastructure of an underdeveloped country helps
> forge a national consciousness. Citizens become hopeful of the future and
> readily compare their progress with that which obtains in neigbouring
> countries. This induces a heightened sense of nationalism and many upbeat
> citizens will readily assure you that Gambia will soon become king of the
> pygmies. Those who are skeptical are readily billed as unpatriotic,
drooling
> doubters stubbornly unwilling to see the lights from Singapore. Progress
> made could easily get to the leaders head, and if external conditions are
> unfortunate enough, he might just crush the castles by provoking a
senseless
> war. Remember Issayas Afeworki of Eritrea?
>
>
>
> So what should we expect? Studying the deliberations and motions of the
> house of parliament since the 1970s one quickly learns that the most
> consistent issues raised by the opposition NCP deal with matters relating
to
> our country's primitive infrastructure. Questions about bridges and roads
to
> rice paddies, schools and clinics, ambulance services in the provinces,
> numbers of teachers and doctors, and agriculture related issues. These
were
> the issues that were invariably raised. Now that the APRC government is
> seen to be tackling these questions well, is there any politics left for
the
> NCP to pursue? And when Sheriff Dibba jumped fence, why should all the
urban
> poor, and flunkies of the old networks stay around as the gravy train
starts
> to move? The annals of Gambian political history is replete with soggy
cases
> of cross-carpeting. Swarms of independent candidates, members of the
> official opposition, without a twinge of compunction, simply rescind
> representation of their constituencies and join the party in power.
> Commitment to an ideology or a cogent system of political beliefs never
> comes to mind. The ruling idea is simply that which extols sectional and
> personal advantage. Many reason that PPP has had its chance and shared the
> spoils of power. Now it is their turn to wine and dine. And true to its
> character, a sultanist order readily punishes those who fail to step in
line
> with the dear leader. This is one major reason why the UDP will become
> gradually disarmed and weakened.
>
>
>
> The struggle for rice, i.e. the poverty induced clamouring for economic
and
> social advantage through the acquisition of political power combined with
> the sense of hope that development projects generate are the principal
> reasons behind the APRC victory of the October 2001 elections. It is thus
> safe to assume that social values in Gambia are not reflected in her
> Constitutional edicts. We should not believe that because her draft
> constitution was fairly well debated and discussed during the period of
> transition in 1996, it must therefore rule Gambian political conduct.
>
>
>
> Epilogue
>
>
>
> The APRC, like the Rawlings coup in Ghana in 1981, has failed in its
> declared mission of bringing about a social and political transformation
of
> the Gambian polity. After its victory at the 1996 elections it made a
u-turn
> pursuing conservative and backward neo-colonial policies, subjecting the
> domestic economy to the interests of private capital and betraying the
> popular aspirations of the toiling masses of Gambian workers and peasants.
>
> We have witnessed on Gambia-L and even the local media, the stifling of
> progressive debate in favour of radical liberal chic thrusting a party
like
> the UDP as the true democratic alternative to an increasingly autocratic
> APRC. It promoted a revisionist politics that barely concealed its hope to
> resaddle into power the old and discredited political order that
hopelessly
> proved, for three decades, its incapacity to seriously transform Gambia's
> social formation.
>
>
>
> Progressive Gambians of all democratic persuasions must cease the time to
> redirect responsible discourse towards encouraging the Jammeh government
to
> carry out its good work of developing Gambia's infrastructure while
> criticizing it for failing to put up popular democratic structures that
> would eventually enhance the struggles of ordinary Gambians toward social
> liberation. We must as well vigorously resist efforts by the regime to
> undermine the authority and independence of democratic institutions such
as
> the judiciary and the press. Likewise, we should insist that the
democratic
> and Human Rights of Gambians be observed and respected and those
responsible
> for the massacre of students in April 2000 must be brought to justice; and
> that a reinvestigation be launched into the death of Koro Ceesay; and that
> Dumo and his co-detainees should be released from incarceration. Then just
> perhaps, as one thousand women ride along Kanilai Boulevard to the
> president's farm, it may occur to one of them that they could be earning a
> steady income, working on state farms geared towards growing and
processing
> fruits and vegetables for export.
>
>
>
> [Imperialist cultural dominance of which the educated elite are the first
> victims prevent us from thinking independently: Years ago, in a critically
> acclaimed documentary called the Roots of Music that ran on Swedish
> television, it was categorically asserted that the roots of all modern
> Western music lies in the Gambian region of the old Mali empire! Yet if
you
> telephone some major banks in the Gambia today, as you wait to get hooked
> up, the music you hear is not any soothing original classical Gambia kora.
> You hear old man Mozart in the background! Likewise the premier IT-company
> in Gambia calls itself Quantum (!), a name that is absolutely meaningless
to
> 99 percent of all Gambians. Happy are the victims of cultural amnesia.]
>
>
>
> Wishing you all a great week end and thanking you for your time.
>
>
>
> Momodou S Sidibeh,
>
>
>
> Stockholm / Kaatong.
>
>
>
>
>
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