Book
Title: A Week of Hell, 378
double-spaced pages
Author: Papa
Faal
Review by Lamin
J Darbo
Having finished reading
A Week of Hell on 02 May, Kukoi Samba
Sanyang (may the God of infinite mercy forgive his sins), would have had the
opportunity to read my thoughts on the seminal events that indelibly etched his
name in the national memory. More urgent matters intervened to place the actual
review on ice. His untimely and sad passing has no bearing on my view of A Week of Hell, Papa Faal’s very limited recollection, and even narrower
perspective, on the events that broke out on July 30 1981, but whose actual
triggers were to be found in The Gambia’s post-independence governance of the
decade prior. Astounding indeed was the day a civilian outmanoeuvred the
collective state security system of Sir Dawda Kairaba Jawara’s (Sir Dawda)
Gambia, and overthrew, if only briefly, his progressively decaying PPP
government. Whatever training and support he got from “rogue” governors in distant
African lands, Kukoi was the complete outsider whose pomp and ceremony, his
presidential prize, if you like, was snatched by neighbouring Senegal after a
clearly successful overthrow of the partying, thieving, and generally decadent
PPP.
Just out of the Gambia
High School Sixth Form, and working in the very temporary position of a
temporary reporter with Radio Gambia under the tutelage of Lala Hydara, I
overslept on Kukoi’s big day, and missed work, without punitive consequence.
Perhaps the military-type music being played by the putschists acted as a
lullaby and kept me in bed until about midday. Kukoi’s choice of music must
have had a similar effect on the “little boy that speaks Toubab”, aka Saul
Saidykhan. We both slept through part of an extraordinary morning. I finally
woke to the pleasant news of the overthrow of the decadent PPP government. What
disappointment then at Senegal’s quelling of Gambia’s first successful
experiment with a forceful overthrow of a so-called democratically elected
government! The point here is to simply underscore that having completed the
highest stage of academic training then internally available in the country, I
was old enough to remember the terrain then prevalent, and to form an
independent view of its efficacy as far as the public good was concerned. It is
regrettable that Papa Faal glorified that public life, almost completely
dismissed its pervasive decadence, and in the process unjustifiably accentuates
his misplaced central contention that Kukoi was just a common criminal.
In A Week of Hell, Papa Faal recounts Life in a Family (chapter 1), Day
of the Coup D’etat, at Chapter 2, The
Rumor. Chapter 3, Seeking Refuge,
Chapter 4, Our Capture Part I,
Chapter 5, Our Capture Part II: Maa and the others, Chapter 6, Our Capture
Part III: Sheriffo Jawara, Chapter
7, Arrival in Kembujeh, Chapter 8, Terror in Kembujeh, Chapter 9, Terror at Depot and Radio Gambia,
Chapter 10, Road to Nyanibereh,
Chapter 11, The Rescue, Chapter 12, The Return to Normalcy, Chapter 13, The Round-up, Chapter 14, Returning Home, Chapter 15, and The Trial, Chapter 16.
In trenchant
condemnation, Papa Faal confidently highlights Kukoi’s “incoherence”, and
“irresponsibility”, and unequivocally depicts him and his fellow
‘revolutionaries’ as “illiterate, drunk and overambitious bandits” who were
“devoid of humanity and humility”. To him they were “juvenile”, a “gang of
thieves”, a “sorry and despicable” bunch of “lunatics” and “cowards”. Lamenting
the “more than five hundred citizens murdered” in the breakdown of law and
order occasioned by 30 July, Papa Faal laments the attendant human and material
destruction, and calls them “... the consequences of an irresponsible criminal
like Kukoi” (p335).
On the deeply American
concept of patriotism, Papa Faal quotes George William Curtis for the
proposition that “A man’s country is not a certain area of land, of mountains,
rivers, and woods, but it is a principle, and patriotism is loyalty to that
principle” (p 80). Fighting to overthrow Sir Dawda’s PPP government must never
be equated with Kukoi’s lack of patriotism. In the eyes of numerous Gambians,
many in leadership positions in that government were themselves not patriotic
in light of their heedless looting of the national treasury, thereby creating
the perfect conditions for a Kukoi to emerge. In any case, the George William
Curtis quotation originated with Cicero, that sage of ancient Rome, and the
contention was for an expanded franchise, not about patriotism, as that concept
is understood by the flag-waving citizen propounding the mantra ‘my country
right or wrong’.
As adapted in Imperium, by Robert Harris, Cicero
“denounced as nonsense the logic which
said that a man who lived on one side of a stretch of water was a Roman and
that his cousin on the other side was a barbarian, even though they both spoke
Latin”. In the famous words of Cicero:
Rome
is not merely a matter of geography. Rome is not defined by rivers, or
mountains,
or even seas. Rome is not a question of blood, or race, or religion;
Rome
is an idea. Rome is the highest embodiment of liberty and law that mankind
has
yet achieved in the ten thousand years since our ancestors came down from
those
mountains and learned how to live as communities under the rule of law”
Against
the overall tapestry of public life then extant, and on which an informed
verdict must be reached, was Kukoi properly branded a common criminal?
On the evidence, the
answer is an emphatic no! It appears that Papa Faal’s concept of democracy, and
the rule of law, is rooted in the mere organising of periodic elections that
were then overwhelmingly won by a do-nothing and utterly corrupt government
like Sir Dawda’s PPP. This is an abuse of the notion and principle of “a
democratically elected government” (see generally pp 55-59 on the curse of
coups in Africa). Only a few days ago, the US President, Barack Obama, and
poignantly, on African soil, repeated his refrain that periodic elections do
not equal democracy. In circumstances where the instruments of public coercion are
monopolised by the state through its police power, the perverse doctrine of
so-called legitimate change as achievable only through a non-existent
“democratic” route must be rejected.
No matter the argument
against coups, or other forceful changes of government, the critical task for
the anti-coup camp must of necessity address the central question of how to
remove coup-producing conditions from a nation’s public life. In The Gambia
pre-Kukoi, those coup-producing conditions were, anomalously, an integral part
of the daily fabric of public life. Anomalous because Sir Dawda was himself
quite a restrained leader with no serious track record of unearned flamboyance,
either by him, or his adult children. A few years in exile, and he was
practically broke! But there was no question he allowed rampant corruption to
define his government, and as the man responsible for the public purse, with
the ultimate mandate to steer the ship of state from dangerous waters, his
abject failure to rein in the “rapacious mafia” that practiced economic
malfeasance on an industrial scale in such a small country meant that his
culpability was sealed.
According to Papa Faal,
the internal causes of coups in Africa relate to “authoritarian rule and
corruption, tribalism, nepotism, poor governance, weak institutions, and
political instability which are themselves mostly external causes” (pp
60-61). Rather extraordinarily, he
posits that the causes of “the Gambia’s 1981 coup d’etat has not been well
documented” (p. 61). In his view, “the opposition parties had levelled
unfounded charges of corruption against the Peoples Progressive Party ... right
after the country became a republic” (p. 61). Subsumable in “corruption”, and,
or, “poor governance”, are the existential national threats of “tribalism”,
“nepotism”, and “weak institutions”. In any polity where these predominate, the
system self-undermines. Rampant corruption was the single issue that ultimately
sunk the PPP, but Papa Faal may be excused for not recognising this blatant reality
at his tender age in 1981, and may be his antecedents as a member of the
extended Jawara family. Over time though, he deprives himself of any excuse for
failing to recognise the overwhelming evidence of runaway corruption in Sir
Dawda’s PPP government.
Papa Faal’s perspective
notwithstanding, the PPP era was inseparable from the widespread corruption
that took such firm root in the country, and i the process popularised the
philosophy that ill-gotten gain was something to flaunt, and celebrate, as normal.
And this was the case even during the earlier years of the Republic. When the
Special Criminal Court Bill was tabled in Parliament in 1979, two full years
before Kukoi’s onslaught, then Attorney General M L Saho argued “It is not
alarming to say that this country will be destroyed if this cancer is not
arrested now. Me make no apologies for this Bill ... No stone would be left
unturned in the fight to protect the interest of the public from the rapacious
mafia within our society” (see p. 298 of Journey for Justice, by Hassan B Jallow). This was a high level
Cabinet Minister speaking, but Papa Faal contends there was no evidence of
corruption. In 1980, still pre-Kukoi, “one Member of Parliament expressed the
view that more stringent measures such as hand amputation ought to be
introduced” to stem the tide of runaway corruption. “A Parliamentary Secretary,
addressing Government accounting personnel, was reported by the Gambia News
Bulletin of 10th July, 1980 to have suggested the firing
squad for embezzlers” (p. 298 of Journey
for Justice)
It was in this climate
of mass disaffection with a do-nothing government that Kukoi emerged, and after
which Fafa M’bai, then Attorney General, shepherded the Evaluation of Assets
and Prevention of Corrupt Practices Bill which became an Act of Parliament in
1982. As if the PPP learnt nothing from
the tremendous sympathy for Kukoi, it went back to business as usual and in the
process created a new free zone for unbridled corruption. Fafa M’bai was
hounded out of office and the PPP’s corruption empire remerged stronger than
ever before. No surprise then that the meritless partying was abruptly ended in
1994.
Recalling 30 July 1981,
the “little boy that speaks toubab”, aka Bakari, to his grandpa Lang Mariama,
now a much older, sober, and reflective commentator on Gambian public affairs,
contends:
... Since his re-emergence, I have observed Kukoi – his
postings, his reaction to
questions, insults, condemnation, criticism, taunts, or
non-reaction to them. Kukoi
will forever be one of the most controversial figures in Gambian
history. In the eyes
of many, he is a criminal, a murderer, and a coward, and will
always be one. My own
opinion of Kukoi is kinder.
First, I find it heartening that Kukoi has shunned Yaya Jammeh
and his open ethnic
baiting politics. Anyone with eyes to see, or a heart to accept
the truth knows the fastest
way to progress in Gambia today is to jump on to Yaya Jammeh’s
anti-Mandinka
bandwagon. Countless people have been, and continue to be,
rewarded handsomely
for no other reason than the fact that they’re playing that
dirty game.... And If Kukoi
were your average Gambian, he’d be by Jammeh’s side now pounding his chest for
being “vindicated,” or “celebrating our time to enjoy,” as they
“move the country
forward.” No matter what one thinks of him, this is commendable.
Also, I believe Kukoi, as misguided and naïve as he was
(remember his appeal
to Libya, Cuba, and Guinea Bissau to send him help ON RADIO
GAMBIA
when the Senegalese army started parachuting in,) had his heart
in the right place.
He was a young man in too much of a hurry to right what was
obviously wrong with
Jawara’s governance style. Like I stated before, Jawara is a
very decent man –
intelligent, honest and upright at the personal level. But as
government leader, he was
simply too ineffective, too square for our round hole, to put it
mildly. Jawara did not
seem to understand that it wasn’t enough for him to merely
do his own primary job,
which he did well to the letter. The problem was, it was also
his job to watch his
underlings, and to bring down the hammer where they’re found
errant. In this,
he failed miserably. Jawara simply couldn’t put his feet down to
do what needs done
to stop the shameless plunder of our common weal by his
appointees.
And truth be told, the anger and frustration that propelled
Kukoi into taking up arms
was very widespread among the youth in 1981. So, Kukoi was not
an exception.
In fact, it was those same sentiments that Yaya Jammeh was to
tap into in 1994.
Kukoi had simply beat like-minded others to the punch... (July 30th, 1981, by Saul
Saidykhan, and published by Maaafanta
in July 2012)
Without
question, Saul Saidykhan is right. Former Attorney General M L Saho was right,
and the Parliamentarian who called for “hand amputation” was also right about
corruption. So too was the Parliamentary Secretary who called for the “firing
squad” as a way of dealing with corruption by public officials in Sir Dawda’s
Gambia!
As
for the alleged trauma of Papa Faal’s immediate family, there is no compelling
evidence to suggest anyone was particularly committed to harming them. The
melodramatic narrative around the so-called refuge and capture at Busuranding
sounds somewhat removed from reality considering the author’s tender age at the
time, and his Hollywood-style recollection of events. Notwithstanding all that
allegedly occurred, no one was hurt, and without credible explanation, the
family were effectively placed in protective custody with Pa Sanjally Bojang at
Kembujeh (see generally pp137- 151).
A
similar incredulity surrounds the State House fire fight scene considering no
member of Sir Dawda’s family was hurt despite the utter intensity of the gun fight
that allegedly took place at “number one Marina Parade”. After an incredible
gun fight lasting some twenty minutes, “... Kukoi and his rebels were sure they
had killed everyone in the compound. They left reassured that their mission was
accomplished....” (see generally pp 70-74). Similarly, the nature of the fight
at “Sankung’s compound”, at Brikama, between the intervening Senegalese soldiers,
and the rebels, is difficult to comprehend. “The Senegalese forces directed
their unrelenting fury towards Sankung’s compound and almost turned the place
into smithereens. The fighting was so intense and severe that bullets were
riddling the house...” (p 122) And not a
soul hurt?
Another
aspect of the narrative that is somewhat baffling centres around the courtroom
scene where it is suggested Alkalie was directly examined by state counsel. “Barrister
Jones stood up and said, Your lordship, the state calls prisoner, Alkalie to
the stand” (p 363, but see generally Chapter sixteen, The Trial). This is somewhat unconventional, and in Papa
Faal’s adopted US, a criminal defendant may not be forced to give evidence in
his own trial.
Viewed
broadly, what Papa Faal, and his family ostensibly encountered was what
families up and down the main theatre of operations - the Greater Banjul area -
encountered in the tumultuous week commencing 30 July. The case is not made
that he and his family endured “a week of hell”. None of them were harmed,
either physically or emotionally and the talk of “post-traumatic stress
disorder” is just exaggeration. In any case, Papa Faal remembers “A Week of Hell”, whereas other Gambians
situated as myself remember teenage years of indelible misery from the corruption,
nepotism, and general mis-governance of Sir Dawda’s PPP government. Waking up
in Sukuta between 0500, and 0600, and taking three hours to be in Banjul for
school, whereas some of our compatriots took under half an hour to arrive in
Banjul in government vehicles, was an experience too difficult and humiliating
to forget. Neither in 1981, nor in 1994, did I mourn the passing of a decadent government
like the PPP.
Like
Lang Mariama’s “Bakari”, I too have a “kinder” view of 1981. He should sleep
well then, and maybe, just maybe, a more politically grown-up Gambia would one
day reflect on, and appreciate Kukoi’s true legacy in the annals of our nation.
Papa Faal is utterly mistaken about 1981. Kukoi stole nothing from the national
purse, and he did not harm a single member of the Jawara family, although the
opportunity was there in Sheriffo Jawara, Lady Chilel, and Sir Dawda’s own
children. 1981 would have created a field day for a common criminal, but on any
sensible analysis, that was not who Kukoi was. Although the deaths around 30
July were regrettable, this is the “collateral damage” incidental to executive
vandalism. A democratic mandate can be vitiated by executive vandalism, and within
a year of his election to the Egyptian presidency, Mohammed Morsi affirmed that
contention in spectacular fashion. No surprise that Egyptians in their millions
are celebrating his ouster!
Listening
to Papa Faal’s online interviews with Gainako,
and Kibaaro, I am not surprised at
the many Americanisms in A Week of Hell.
I recall phrases such as “game changer”, “collateral damage”, worried sick”, “for
Christ sake”, “stepped on the gas”, “generous servings”, and words such as “grabbed”,
“snitch”, “groceries”, etc. Even where he calls Sir Dawda his “great uncle”, Papa
Faal refers to his mother’s father, the “self-made” Sheriffo Jawara, and Sir
Dawda’s biological sibling, as his grandfather. A few consultations on this
point suggest that in The Gambian context, Sir Dawda is also Papa Faal’s
grandfather.
A
future edition of A Week of Hell can
do with further minor editing including at pages: 82; 130; 135; 239; 243; 248;
254; 258; 261; 265; 282; 285.
Among other outlets, A Week of Hell can be purchased from
Amazon
Happy July 4th
Lamin J Darbo
04 July 2013