By Momodou Malcom Jallow
Gambian-born Swedish member of Parliament
In the heart of West Africa lies a nation wounded by hope and betrayed by its leaders. The Gambia—small in size, but immense in spirit—once stood as a symbol of democratic rebirth after the fall of Yahya Jammeh’s iron-fisted regime. But nearly a decade later, that promise has eroded into a familiar pattern of corruption, elitism, and ethical decay.
The latest scandal to shake the Barrow administration reveals a disturbing misuse of public funds. More than D3.6 million, drawn from the pockets of struggling Gambian taxpayers, was spent to transport the President’s mother and her entourage to Dakar for a medical check-up.
According to Minister Mod K. Ceesay, this was a “legitimate expenditure”—a phrase now permanently stained with irony. He further claimed the funds did not pay for medical treatment but for per diems and travel costs of drivers and security. The mother of the President, he emphasised, deserved “respect at the highest level.”
But what about the mothers of the nation? What about the old women who lie on the cold floor of Edward Francis Small Teaching Hospital because no beds are available? What about the sick and vulnerable women and girls who, after being examined, are handed a list of unavailable medications and told to “go and buy it at the pharmacy”—a place many can’t afford to step into, let alone buy medicine from?
I know this pain intimately.
My beloved mother and father passed away at that very hospital. I have sat under the mango tree outside the hospital with other grieving relatives, shielding ourselves from the blistering sun as we watched our loved ones cling to life in a broken system. I have seen sick women lying on the bare ground, abandoned not by their families, but by a state that has refused to treat them as citizens worthy of dignity.
How do you justify this?
How does a government sleep at night while its people—the very citizens who voted it into office—suffer and die needlessly due to a collapsed healthcare system?
It is neither legally defensible nor morally forgivable to siphon taxpayer money to send the president’s mother abroad while the vast majority of Gambians are condemned to die at home from preventable diseases. The administration’s priorities are clear: self-preservation, not public service.
Whistleblowers Are Not the Problem. The System Is.
Instead of expressing shame or committing to reform, the government has chosen to pursue the person who leaked this information. Mod K. Ceesay announced an investigation—not into the misuse of funds—but into the whistleblower who dared to expose it. This is not only grotesque; it is unlawful.
Under Article 67 of the Anti-Corruption Act 2023, whistleblowers in The Gambia are protected. International conventions such as the UN Convention Against Corruption, AU Anti-Corruption Convention, and ECOWAS Protocol on the Fight Against Corruption, all affirm the right—and the duty—of individuals to expose corruption and malpractice. That this administration ignores those obligations while claiming to be the “most transparent since independence” is a staggering act of hypocrisy.
Let us be clear: whistleblowers are patriots. They are doing what the state refuses to do—defend the public interest.
A crisis beyond numbers
This scandal is more than a matter of figures or accounting. It’s about life and death, hope and despair, truth and betrayal. In a country where nurses go unpaid, doctors are overworked, and ambulances are often just dreams on paper, to spend millions transporting one woman across borders while thousands suffer without aspirin is not simply unjust—it is inhumane.
What adds to the insult is that the President’s mother is no more or less deserving of care than any other mother in Brikama, Basse, Bundung, or Barra. If she deserves world-class healthcare, then so do all mothers. The real solution is not to fly her out. It is to build a health system in The Gambia that can care for her and for every other Gambian woman—old and young—who walks through a hospital door.
Where is the justice in a government that ensures life for one, but death for many?
Corruption by any other name
Mod K Ceesay and others in the administration continue to describe this abuse of public funds as “legitimate.” They claim opposition parties are stirring distraction. They speak of protocol breaches and confidentiality. But they say nothing of the crumbling hospitals, the unemployed youth, the increasing suicide rates, or the deteriorating morale of an entire people.
In a desperate attempt to justify the misuse of public funds, Minister Mod Ceesay argued that, in Gambian culture, a mother is inherently part of the “first family”—as though cultural sentimentality should override constitutional responsibility. This line of reasoning is not only intellectually bankrupt but dangerously misleading. Culture is not a legal framework, and it should never be used as a shield to justify the abuse of public resources.
As the late Dr Chuba Okadigbo wisely stated:
“If you are emotionally attached to your tribe, religion, political leaning (and in this case, your culture) to the point that truth and justice become secondary considerations, your education and exposure are useless. If you cannot reason beyond petty sentiments, you are a liability to mankind.”
Governance must be rooted in justice, law, and accountability—not in selective appeals to tradition when convenient. Anything less is an insult to the intelligence and dignity of the Gambian people.
Even when local government councils are placed under scrutiny, it often appears as a political sideshow—a way to divert attention from the stench at the top. When those in central government remain untouchable?
Meanwhile, public outrage grows, not because of political gamesmanship, but because of exhaustion. Gambians are tired of burying loved ones because their hospitals have no oxygen. Tired of being told that suffering is normal. Tired of hearing about “reform” while elites fly past them in tinted convoys.
The people must rise
The real power lies not in the State House but in the hearts and hands of ordinary Gambians. This moment is not one for apathy—it is a call to action. We must demand:
· Full disclosure and investigation of the D3.6 million expenditure.
· Immediate end to any and all persecution of whistleblowers.
· Independent audits of all public expenditures, in every sector.
· A national healthcare investment plan that prioritises maternal and reproductive health, hospital infrastructure, and medicine accessibility.
We must dismantle the culture of elite impunity—where a select few live above the law while the rest of the nation bleeds silently.
Let us no longer ask, “What can the government do for us?” Instead, let us declare:
“The government works for us—and we are watching.”
Let us speak for the voiceless. Let us remember every mother who died too soon; every child denied care, and every father who watched helplessly as his family was turned away. Let us fight not just for a refund of stolen dignity, but for a rebirth of conscience.
Because the people deserve better.
Because the dead deserve justice.
And because The Gambia belongs to all of us—not just to the privileged few.
