The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, casting a harsh light that seemed to magnify the intensity of the midday heat. The sand beneath her feet, scorched by the relentless sun, bore the faint impressions of footsteps—evidence of the journey she had taken. Each step left a fleeting mark, quickly erased by the shifting sands and the dry winds that whispered through the barren landscape.
In those days, few could afford the luxury of wearing shoes. The Baldeh family was not among the fortunate ones. Their feet, toughened by years of walking barefoot on the unforgiving terrain of the Fuladu region of Casamance, carried them across the hot sand, enduring the burn without complaint. Shoes were a distant dream, something to be admired from afar but rarely owned.
She moved with the weary grace of someone accustomed to hardship. Her bare feet carried her over the uneven ground, the heat rising in waves around her, distorting the horizon. The weight of the day’s labor hung heavy on her shoulders, yet her pace remained steady, driven by the knowledge that home was near.
As she approached the mud-walled compound that housed her family, the familiar sights and sounds offered a brief respite from the oppressive heat. The midday sun was unforgiving, its rays beating down with an intensity that seemed to scorch the very air, but she had grown used to it—had learned to endure.
Neneh Dado’s heart raced as she neared the compound. The sound of unfamiliar voices and the sight of footprints in the sand told her that the visitors had finally arrived. She was returning from the market square, where she sold vegetables she had grown and seasonal fruits from the trees in the yard. The anticipation of what she would find filled her with excitement. This was a new chapter in her life, living in The Gambia, away from the constant scrutiny of her family and the whispered judgments of the village women.
The entrance to the compound was a simple wooden door, weathered by years of exposure to the elements. She pushed it open and stepped inside, where the shade offered a momentary relief. The walls of the compound, though crude and humble, stood as a sanctuary against the harshness of the world outside.
Inside the compound, the air was cooler from the shade provided by the different fruit trees, the sun’s ferocity softened by the protective embrace of the mud walls. She paused for a moment, allowing herself a deep breath, the familiar smells of home filling her senses—earth and sweat. Her family was there waiting.
Neneh Dado had her own reasons for wanting to leave the village in Casamance. She had borne the burden of being a barren woman in a place where a woman’s worth was measured by her ability to bear children. Over the years, she had consulted all manner of traditional healers and spiritualists, hoping for a change in her circumstances. But despite her efforts, she had endured three failed pregnancies. The last one had brought her the closest to motherhood—a stillborn daughter who had reached full term. The memory of that loss still haunted her, the ache of it lingering in her heart.
Yet, in all her suffering, Yerro had never once criticized her for her barrenness. He loved her without conditions, a rarity in a world where a woman’s fertility was often seen as her only value. It was this unconditional love that had given her the strength to leave everything behind and start a new life in The Gambia. But in the months since their arrival, the loneliness had been unbearable. Despite herself, she missed her co-wife, Borogie, and the children. She missed the feeling of being part of a family.
So when she saw the trail of footsteps leading to the house, her heart swelled with hope. Perhaps this new life would not be so lonely after all.
“Where are the visitors?” Neneh Dado called out, her voice tinged with excitement and a hint of urgency. The anticipation in her tone broke through the lazy rhythm of the afternoon, stirring the air that had settled heavy and still within the compound.
Everyone was engrossed in conversation, laughter and chatter weaving a comfortable web of familiarity. They were so absorbed in their exchanges that no one had noticed her enter the compound. The sound of her voice, bright and full of expectation, seemed almost out of place amid the low murmurs.
She stood at the entrance, her eyes scanning the gathering with eager curiosity. Her heart quickened at the thought of meeting the visitors, who had been the topic of much speculation and discussion for days. The visitors were rare in these parts, and their arrival was an event that stirred excitement and curiosity in equal measure.
But now, faced with the sight of her family and friends, deep in conversation and seemingly unaware of her presence, Neneh Dado hesitated. She took a step forward, her excitement momentarily dimmed by the realization that she might have to wait a bit longer for the introductions she had been so eager to make. The laughter continued, warm and inviting, but it was clear that for now, she remained unnoticed.
She cleared her throat, louder this time, hoping to catch their attention. “I said, where are the visitors?” she repeated, her voice now carrying a playful edge.
The children, still brimming with energy from their reunion with Yerro, turned and ran towards their stepmother. ‘We are here. We are here.’ they cried in unison.
They wrapped their arms around her so tightly that the wares on her head toppled over, and the basket of condiments she had bought to cook a meal for the family fell to the ground. The laughter that erupted from the group was infectious, and Neneh Dado found herself caught up in the joyous chaos.
She hugged the children back, their warmth filling the void that had been growing inside her since they had arrived in The Gambia. Then she saw Borogie standing a few steps away, holding the little boy, Buba, in her arms. Without hesitation, Neneh Dado walked over and embraced her co-wife, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. She took the baby from Borogie’s arms, cradling him close. The weight of the child in her arms brought a lump to her throat, a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost and what she might never have.
But for now, the sadness was overshadowed by the joy of reunion. It was a joyous welcome, and Caw Omar, who had accompanied his sister Borogie to The Gambia, watched on with relief. He had been worried about how his sister would be received. He knew the struggles Borogie had faced with her co-wife and her husband, who clearly favored Neneh Dado. The tension between the two women had always been a source of anxiety for him, and he had feared that Borogie’s arrival in The Gambia might exacerbate those tensions.
In fact, it was this very concern that had made their father, Samba Mawdo, so reluctant to let Borogie come to The Gambia. He had worried that, with his daughter out of sight, Yerro might unleash his frustrations on her and treat her unfairly. Samba Mawdo had seen enough of the world to know that distance could change people, and he didn’t want his daughter to suffer in a foreign land, away from the protection of her family.
But as Caw Omar watched the reunion, his fears began to ease. The warmth with which Neneh Dado welcomed Borogie gave him hope that things might be different here. Perhaps, in this distant land, the conflicts that had plagued their family in Casamance could be left behind. Maybe, just maybe, this new beginning would bring with it a change in fortune.
The house was filled with laughter and chatter as the family reunited. Yerro, still seated in the courtyard, watched as his children played and conversed animatedly with Neneh Dado and Borogie, the sight bringing a sense of peace to his heart. The journey to The Gambia had been long and challenging, but seeing his family together again made it all worthwhile.
As the day wore on, the family settled into their new routine. Borogie and Neneh Dado worked together to prepare the afternoon meal, the two women moving in sync as if they had always shared this space. The children, now fully acclimated to their new surroundings, ran around the courtyard, their laughter echoing off the walls. Yerro, still recovering from his eye surgery, rested in the shade, his heart lighter than it had been in months.
That evening, after the children had gone to bed, the adults gathered in the courtyard. The night was cool, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with a special brightness, as if they, too, were celebrating this reunion. Yerro sat with his uncle Ousman Bah and Caw Omar, the three men talking quietly about the future.
“There is still much to be done,” Yerro said, his voice tinged with both determination and exhaustion. “But with all of us here together, I feel we can face whatever comes our way.”
Ousman Bah nodded in agreement. “You have done well, Yerro. You have built a home for your family, and that is no small feat. Now, you must focus on healing and ensuring that your family is safe and settled.”
Caw Omar, who had been mostly silent throughout the conversation, finally spoke up. “I was worried, you know,” he admitted, his voice low. “I was worried that Borogie would not be welcomed here, that the old tensions would flare up again.”
Yerro looked at his brother-in-law, understanding the concern behind his words. “I understand your worry, Omar. But I promise you, things will be different here. We have left those old conflicts behind in Casamance. Here, we have a fresh start.”
As the men talked, inside the house, Borogie and Neneh Dado sat together, their earlier warmth giving way to a more serious conversation.
“I know things were not always easy between us,” Borogie said, her voice soft. “But I am grateful for the way you welcomed me… us, today. It means a lot to me.”
Neneh Dado looked at her co-wife, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “We may have our differences, Borogie, but we are family. And family takes care of each other, no matter what.”
Borogie nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She had been worried about how Neneh Dado would react to her arrival, but now she felt that they could truly start anew.
That night, as the household settled into sleep, there was a sense of peace that had not been present for a long time. The family, now reunited, faced an uncertain future, but they faced it together. The trials they had endured in Casamance had left their mark, but in this new land, there was hope for healing and growth.
To be contd.
