By Rtd Lt Colonel Samsudeen Sarr,
former commander of the GNA
I have just returned from the deeply emotional funeral of my beloved uncle and close relative, Mr Omar Jallow, held at his family residence in Bundung Kunda. The atmosphere was heavy with sorrow yet imbued with a sense of reconnection, as friends, neighbours, and long-lost relatives—some of whom I hadn’t seen or even heard from in decades—gathered to bid him a solemn farewell.
In the midst of mourning, I found solace in reconnecting with members of Mr Jallow’s family, especially his son, Alagie Jallow. Hearing Alagie speak brought back vivid memories—echoes of my late brother Abdoulie Sarr, who passed away in 2007. It was a flood of shared laughter, old stories, and the tender bonds that shaped our youth. May Allah, in His infinite mercy, grant both my uncle and my brother eternal peace.
The day also stirred memories of my childhood in Serekunda. I encountered familiar faces—old friends I hadn’t seen in over a decade—only to be met with heartbreaking news. Amadou “Chaka” Bah, my childhood companion, had passed away just last month, and his brother, Edrisa “Dubbi” Bah, preceded him by only three months. These were not merely neighbours; they were brothers in every sense. Our bond was forged in the dust and joy of Serrekunda’s vibrant streets. Their loss leaves a void that words cannot fill.
Yet, amidst this tapestry of loss and remembrance, a pressing concern weighs heavily on my conscience—an urgent threat to the safety and dignity of our community.
A close in-law who lives near the Kanifing General Hospital confided in me about an alarming development. The stretch of road between the hospital and the Kanifing Post Office—once a quiet haven for evening strollers, fitness lovers, and elders seeking tranquility—has become a corridor of fear and violence.
After 6:00pm, this once-peaceful route is now ruled by gangs of knife-wielding criminals. Operating in coordinated groups, they ambush unsuspecting pedestrians, robbing them of mobile phones and personal belongings. Those who resist are reportedly assaulted—some left bloodied and battered. The attackers often flee by scaling the rear walls of the nearby Alliance Françoise compound, disappearing into the night like shadows.
This is not just petty theft. This is a brazen, coordinated assault on public safety. Locally, this form of robbery is called “rapino”—a term my in-law used to describe these bold, lightning-fast, and vicious attacks.
It is entirely possible that the police are unaware of how perilous this area has become. That is why I feel morally compelled to sound the alarm. I therefore issue a heartfelt and urgent appeal to the Inspector General of Police, Mr Seedy Touray, to take immediate and decisive action of deploying patrol units along this corridor, especially during vulnerable evening hours.
Install floodlights to illuminate the immediate crime-prone area and maintain a visible and constant security presence there to deter criminal activity.
With Tobaski fast approaching—a time traditionally associated with increased criminal incidents—inaction would be nothing short of disastrous. The clock is ticking, and each night that passes without intervention emboldens these predators further.
I also call upon my fellow Gambians to be vigilant, proactive and report suspicious activities. Demand safety everywhere.
We must not allow our communities to become hunting grounds. We must rise together, united in defence of our peace and collective security.
