By Alagie Saidy-Barrow
I just got back to this side of the world, and I must confess that I’m rather encouraged by the brazen opportunism I see all around me. I’m deeply touched and proud of how we embrace duplicity and spinelessness. I see regression everywhere, and I could not be prouder of our Government that was imposed on us. We have certainly mastered the virtue of pretentiousness; praises be to the ancestors. Our people continue to suffer while colorful characters with kubayjarra plans wander about promising Elysium. But to get there, the people must be starved, through corruption, of their most basic needs. It’s called African politics! Pee on them and tell them it’s manna from the heavens.
Promise, there is about to be another meal, and people are lining up to get their share of the proverbial cake made of the blood and pus of the suffering masses. I don’t know where you are or what you’re up to, but please hurry home before the meal tickets run out. I am already in The Gambia. If you cannot come home, I urge you, strongly, to align yourself with the projected winners. If you’re confident that it will be one particular political party, then by all means, shoot your shot so everyone knows you are aligned with that one party. When the dust settles, the mantra will be, “Promise did a lot for the party; he deserves a front position in the line to the national cake.” You can freely partake in the cake decorated with the blood of the stillborn.
If you’re not too confident about any particular political party winning, then mire and align yourself with neutrality if you must, but have one foot in one of the political parties you feel may win. Make sure you have a benefactor (preferably a man) in all the influential parties and align yourself with them in private while honoring your duplicity in public. Your friends and family will see through your duplicity, but that is what it takes to make it. Duplicity will propel you to a good job and government contracts. I know what I’m telling you, Promise. I’ve seen it. Duplicity will land you on the boards of lucrative entities. You will enjoy. It’s a time-proven hustle. You can claim to be working for the people while living far better than those you work for. It’s called government work! No one will hold you accountable in government. Cue the IEC and its moribundity!
Promise, I saw your cousin Cherno, and he is living handsomely. He told me he’s with the status quo because it is their time to eat off the national cake. He’s even bought a property in Dakar. Cherno’s glass is half full. If he has his way, things will remain the same. Gambia will continue to regress, but he will continue to progress, and when it’s all said and done, Cherno said that’s all that matters: His progression! He told me, “Mmajiki, when it’s all said and done, our politics is mostly a hustle. A hustle for wealth, for power, and prestige. A hustle for government positions for many. Few politicians are in it for the people. Many are there to get rich or die trying. And once in, politics and power become a matter of life and death for them. That is why you see some UDP members cannibalising the party. They see the wins of others as a loss for themselves and those they anchor their fortunes to. You would have seen similar events within the NPP. Don’t mind the political hubris and silly jargon about accountability or public service,” Cherno insists. What makes me sad is that Cherno seems to be right. I asked him about his one-time idol, Yaya Jammeh, and Cherno laughed out loud. “Jammeh lost his marbles. That man has gone crazy. His delusions of grandeur and relevance have been too painful to listen to through his WhatsApp audios.” What shocks and saddens me is how people who once revered Jammeh openly speak so negatively of him today. And Jammeh hasn’t changed, but their fortunes have changed. There is a new benefactor in town.
Promise, when you arrive here, you’ll see what Cherno means, even if you can’t agree with him. I asked Cherno what profit he would gain if he lost his soul while trying to gain the world, and he told me, “Government position; you never know its worth until you get one.”
Then I met your childhood friend Kenbugul. He said he was touring the country to ensure everything was all right. He’s hidden behind tinted windows, and he observes the suffering from afar. Kenbugul said he’s in it for the people. Like many, he lives well while the people slowly die. He has a property in Dubai but keeps it a secret. I realised he’s very calculating. He wants to ensure his name is not forgotten when opportunities are divided. He’s a smart fella, and he understands the game of duplicity. Kenbugul will go far because he understands duplicity. Cue the ministries highlighting their various projects and the silent ministers who claim to be technocrats while stealthily promoting the status quo. Duplicity will take you far, especially if you have no spine and can glide through any administration!
Promise, I also saw your ex-girlfriend Mansata. She’s an activist of sorts now. Activism is her only source of income. Cherno told me that, like him, Mansata is just another hustler. She cares more about finding funds and popularity than the causes that such funds support. She’s on 16 days of fighting gender violence. Cherno said he understands Mansata gotta eat too, so he isn’t hating on her game. Not everyone can eat from the palms of a politician, you know. That’s why many want to be closest to them. Some find their commercial calling in activism. “People do get rich from being activists, so please give Mansata a pass”, Cherno insists. I was at sixes and sevens because Mansata seemed very concerned about women’s affairs, even if it meant nothing to her. But you should see her with those women screaming Kill the boar. I thought I was back in Soweto. She markets herself very well, on the suffering of those she claims to be helping. Mansata will also go far. She understands meaningless activism mired in self-aggrandisement. She claims that she’s changing lives.
At Kow Junction, I ran into Karanta. You know Karanta, the short and light-skinned kid with funny-looking ears who lived across the street from you in Bundung. He’s all grown now. I saw him in a suit and tie, the mark of those who had made it. He’s a journalist now. Or that’s what he calls himself these days. And he insists he’s one of the best. My heart sank the more he talked glowingly of himself and his reporting for international media houses. His accent is a sound to behold. He doesn’t sound or look Bundung. If you want to travel far in the Gambia, be fake! Faking it gets you to make it far!
Promise, this letter is getting too long, and I know you hate reading long letters, just like the many folks you share this colonial space with. You know, many of our African minds are still steeped in the open manholes of the colonisers. Our thinking is limited to what we were miseducated with, and we hate to rebel for our freedom. We must not only be grateful to the colonisers for controlling our minds or the ridiculous-looking blond wigs our learned ones proudly don, but we must also be grateful that we continue to dutifully abide by colonial guidelines and feed our people through eleemosynary. We hate rebellion because we claim to be peaceful. We call what obtains “peace”. Hungry and poor people can never be at peace. What those who lord over the hungry and poor call peace is nothing but subjugation. But let me not disturb your fleeting negative peace, Promise. I’ll stop here for now, and I’ll write to you about my visit to the UTG. Your heart will sink when I tell you about their politics. The future is bleak, Promise. The minds of those students need to be overhauled! I’ll write again soon. So long.
Yours in the African Dilemma,
The Lost One
