Yundum to Soma, Sam to Jatta, February has had love in the air. Maximising that aura that love typically stirs, you may need to take such moments to bed for a bedtime literary romance.
I’m in love, in love with my pen – the pen that Sultan gave me as a gift, captioning it: “When the Pen gives D’Pen a pen as a gift,” in the verbatim of his Niuminka English. That love is on fire. I’m making love to that pen. And its reproductive outcomes of literary progeny inspires this title. So isn’t that sexy?
What’s the difference between whores and gigolos? Because the other one has balls whereas the other one doesn’t? Generally, most men are stupid, at least sexually, but not blind. For them, it has to either jut or swingle. That’s what does it for them.
What do Soma and Yundum have in common? Come on if you feel the similarity. ‘Nyelenkung bankuma’ is the mundane mantra for Yanks and I. I’m used to composing slogans of such nature ‘kabiring kunung’.
To understand the familiarity that Public Health Officers have with babies and boobs, you may simply need to look at the relationship between nurses and blood, importantly when they don comforting smiles of such nod. ‘Ekang feel leh’?
February has been a fallow period for me. I didn’t feel the urge to write anything albeit I’d occasionally do freestyles. I was enjoying myself, sitting afar and looking at my niche, savoring the fallowing. But during that period, I’ve had fun, nice moments with some people I hold dear.
From reuniting with Sultan at Jacaranda, passing by Kassim Oscar and the team at Star FM, meeting Yahya Barrow at Paradise Suites Hotel, having John Pele and Lang Laibo for a sumptuous weekend at home, late night sessions with Kissima, MS, and Omeruo during weekends; to night sessions with Beck and Saidyleigh, it’s been an eventful February for me hitherto. All the sanctuary.
Maybe you need to understand what we all largely have in common in this contemporary Jollof.
Whether it’s the love you’re looking for or the love you want to let go of, the level you’re embracing or the level you want to outgrow, the past you relish or the one you regret, The Gambia you were optimistic about or The Gambia you’re now despaired of; everyone is struggling at their own level.
If I’m already on bed with my pen, then no vendetta towards Jatta, no Sam Hill about Sam. I should be glad to be on a fine therapy. If I’ve already provoked your thoughts regarding this, it’s just a hook.
You see, men will always be men. Even though it’s largely believed that “all cats are grey in the dark,” men still prefer cats that have other qualities hotter than grey-dom. Hence, “the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.” Hence, ‘musu koyo saasa boro’. Hence, the bigger it appears from the back, the hotter it seems to appeal to men. So naturally, men are design to harbor such emotions. Maybe manly temptation is in the air.
Truly, preferences change with time. As a boy embracing manhood, I’ve wanted quite an ample of things that I no longer want. I’d be carried away by a lot of things that I now find trivial. Equally, my taste has evolved. Evolution is true, at least, I can relate it. But even with the evolution of my taste, I still harbor some fears.
Not that I fear women, I fear having the wrong woman. Mind you, the woman of your taste can turn out to be a nightmare you never envisage. Human beings and inconsistency are so entangled. So even your dream woman is more or less a member of that universal set of inconsistency. This is the reason to fret. However, it’s not necessary to fret the gizzard because “good things come to those that wait.”
Marriage is very sensitive. Decisions have implications. But reproductive decisions can sometimes be very ‘garaw deh’. It’s wise one thinks about them very well, right? Good.
But what deter young men from marriage? Cultural demands? Dowry? Wedding? What? Okay, now, tell me why young ladies betray home-based men for ‘semesters’ to marry them? Why are most men attracted to humble ladies while most ladies are attracted to richer men? When do men look down whereas ladies look up? Are there womanly perceived differences between vegetables and fruits?
Dear fellow men, those of you that are rich, as in economic sense, are the vegetables. And those of you that are not well off in the same metrics are the fruits. So apparently, bulk of women prefer vegetables to fruits, rich men to poor men. So, the earlier a man ready for marriage slaughters poverty, the greater the number of women readily available for his catch. So poverty is a clear risk factor for delayed marriages amongst men. You don’t need a social research for that. Choice is another.
Poverty is so prevalent in this Jollof that every Tom, Dick and Harry should be motivated to make it to the riches. But, interestingly, wealth isn’t under the sun. It’s in the shade instead. Well, there can be some money under the sun, but when it comes to wealth, that’s in the shade. If you want to understand this mystery, then you may need to remind yourself that those that work harder are those that don’t even get anything, only taking home scanty and dismal amount of money.
It’s March. And I can still remember Commonwealth Day commemorations. During my elementary school days, we’d observe it in style:
Students donning cultural attires and converging at the school ground, strolling Eastern Jarra Villages of Sutukung and Barrow Kunda in costumes and attires, girls making their hairs in rows and cornrows with some mint braided on that, boys also keeping it neatly at least for that day, those were the days when men were boys; when Lang Laibo was Seedorf and Ancient Man was a coy boy, when Njie B was crazily stubborn and Mpachakum was competing everyone for height, with Master bullying almost everyone in class, Kinfengo being that quiet; tearful ‘Gladdy Jabbi’, Famata and Aayi causing all the troubles, Sulayman Drammeh with the ‘daawulengo’ trademark, and Baba Laibeh terrorising anyone he could; those were the halcyon days – those were the heydays – those were the days of true remark and pure moments. Hello childhood, greetings elementary school, we miss the Commonwealth Day.
Have I digressed this far? Hmm, it’s my sexy pen. I informed you we are in love. And you know lovers sometimes go crazy. Lol.
Anyway, I love it so much, so much so that, even if it runs out of ink, I’ll be keeping it as a memento.
Batou Saidy holds a degree in Public and Environmental Health. He’s a Public Health Officer and a writer. He’s also a football fanatic and a Manchester United aficionado.
