The departure had been delayed, but for a reason that brought joy rather than sorrow. In the midst of packing and saying her goodbyes, Borogie went into labor, giving birth to a baby boy she named Buba. This child, her second son, was the answer to a prayer she had scarcely dared to utter after the heartbreak of losing her first son. Buba was a balm to her wounded heart, a new light in her life, and the embodiment of her hopes and dreams. In his tiny, innocent face, Borogie saw not just a son, but an ally, a protector, and a companion for life.
Her other children, delighted by the arrival of their new sibling, treated Buba like a cherished doll. Even Khadja Bobo, the cadet of the family, usually so prone to sulking and jealousy, softened in the presence of her baby brother. The house, which had been filled with the tension of impending departure, now rang with laughter and the playful sounds of children. For a brief moment, it seemed as if time had stopped, allowing the family to bask in the happiness that Buba’s birth had brought.
But reality, as it often does, soon intruded. Barely a month after Buba’s birth, it was time for Borogie to leave her family behind and set off for The Gambia. The thought of parting with his only daughter broke Samba Mawdo’s heart. He had always known this day would come, but knowing did nothing to lessen the pain. As the head of the family, he had to stay strong, but as a father, he struggled with the knowledge that his beloved Borogie was about to embark on a journey to a land unknown.
The neighbors gathered, offering tearful goodbyes and prayers for a safe journey. Their voices, thick with emotion, mingled with the sounds of children laughing and crying, creating a bittersweet symphony that echoed through the village. Borogie held Buba close to her chest, the baby’s warmth a small comfort as she tried to mask her own fears with a brave face.
The journey that followed was arduous, testing both body and spirit. The rickety car they boarded off the main road of Sareh Dembordor seemed barely capable of making the trip, its wheels creaking and groaning under the weight of passengers and goods. The road ahead, little more than a dirt path pocked with potholes and strewn with obstacles, offered no mercy. The dense, green vegetation and towering trees of 1960s Casamance closed in on either side of the road, as if the forest itself was trying to hold them back. But the driver, a small, wiry man with a voice as thin as his frame, was undeterred.
He was a character, this driver, with a knack for making the most outlandish jokes. His wispy voice carried through the humid air as he regaled his passengers with stories of co-wife rivalries, scandalous love affairs, and the latest village gossip. His humor was sharp, his wit quick, and his ability to poke fun at the absurdities of life brought moments of levity to an otherwise grueling journey. But behind his jokes lay an unspoken understanding of the trials his passengers were facing, a recognition that this journey was more than just a physical passage from one place to another.
Caw Omar, Borogie’s younger brother, sat beside her with a look of stoic patience. He had been asked to accompany Borogie and her children to The Gambia, and though he accepted the responsibility without complaint, it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. The other passengers, a mix of villagers and traders, laughed at the driver’s jokes, their laughter a welcome distraction from the rough road and the uncertainty that lay ahead. But Borogie and Caw Omar remained silent, their minds focused on the road ahead, on the new life that awaited them in a land they had never known.
The driver’s apprentice, a quiet, bulky man who rarely spoke, leapt from the vehicle whenever they encountered an obstacle. Whether it was a pile of cut firewood, a large boulder, or even a fallen tree, he would clear the path with methodical precision, ensuring that the vehicle could continue on its way. The roads leading to Kolda were less roads and more a series of barriers, each one a test of endurance and determination. Aminatta, Borogie’s eldest child, sat quietly in the back, her small face etched with a seriousness far beyond her ten years. She felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders, the burden of keeping her younger siblings calm in the face of the unknown.
For Aminatta, the journey was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. She was excited at the prospect of reuniting with her father, but the thought of leaving behind everything she had ever known filled her with a sorrow so deep, she could barely bring herself to speak. She was particularly close to her grandfather, Samba Mawdo, who had been more like a father to her than anyone else. As his “debo jarrga,” the bride of the village chief, Aminatta held a special place in his heart, and the thought of leaving him behind was almost too much to bear. She had spent countless hours by his side, learning the ways of their people, listening to his stories, and helping him with his daily tasks. The thought of leaving him behind filled her with a sorrow so deep, she could barely bring herself to speak.
Her mind raced with worries as the car bumped along the rough road. What would life be like in The Gambia? Who would braid her hair, now that she was leaving behind her friends and the familiar faces of her village? And most of all, how would she ever rebuild the friendships she had spent years nurturing? It all felt so surreal, as if the world she had known was slipping through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but uncertainty.
Borogie, on the other hand, seemed almost indifferent to the upheaval. Her eyes sparkled with an emotion that Aminatta couldn’t quite place—was it happiness, relief, or something else entirely? Whatever it was, it was clear that Borogie was ready to leave Casamance behind, eager to start a new chapter with Yerro in The Gambia. Her children’s concerns seemed to wash over her like water over stone, unnoticed and unacknowledged.
By the time they reached Kolda, the tension in the air had eased somewhat, replaced by the relief of having made it through the roughest part of the journey. They disembarked and transferred to another vehicle, this one sturdier and more comfortable, its tires humming smoothly over the newly tarred roads. The landscape began to change as they crossed into The Gambia, the dense forests giving way to more open terrain, and the road straightened out as if welcoming them to a new world.
At Siliti, they moved into another vehicle, which would carry them to Serrekunda. The drive to Serrekunda was far less taxing than the first leg of their journey. The tarred roads made for a smoother ride, and the children began to relax, lulled by the rhythm of the car and the warmth of the sun filtering through the windows. Aminatta, though still quiet, began to take in her surroundings with curiosity, the new sights and sounds of The Gambia offering a distraction from her worries.
They reached Serrekunda’s bustling market in good time, the noise and chaos of the town a stark contrast to the quiet of the village they had left behind. The driver pulled up near the big tree at the market, where the garage was located. As they climbed out of the car, Caw Omar exchanged a few words with the driver, who seemed amused by the prospect of taking them to Jeshwang. With a playful chide, he convinced him to drive them the rest of the way, a small victory that brought a rare smile to his face.
The drive to Jeshwang from Serrekunda market was brief, and soon they were weaving through the narrow streets of the neighborhood. As they approached their destination, an elderly woman named Mbassi, who had been sitting outside her compound, noticed their vehicle pull up in front of her gate. Acknowledging that she knew Yerro, she immediately offered to help. With a warm smile, she took Khadja Bobo, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep, and carried her gently on her back. Mbassi then led them through the winding paths that crisscrossed the neighborhood, guiding them to the house where Yerro lived.
As they stepped inside, a sense of familiarity and comfort washed over Borogie like a wave. It felt like coming home. Yerro, who had been sitting alone in the courtyard, looked up at the sound of their footsteps. The moment his eyes met Borogie’s, his face broke into a wide smile, his heart swelling with joy. He rose quickly, his smile growing even broader as he saw his family standing across from him.
“Baba!” Aminatta and her younger siblings cried out in unison, their voices filled with excitement and relief as they recognized their father. They broke into a run, their feet pattering across the courtyard as they rushed to embrace him. Yerro knelt down, arms wide open, and gathered them into a tight hug, their laughter and chatter filling the air.
Borogie, holding Buba into his arms, stood back for a moment, her eyes welling up with tears as she watched the reunion. It had been a long and difficult journey, but they had made it. They had reached their new home, The Gambia.
To be contd.
