By Kebeli Demba Nyima
Once again, tragedy bleeds quietly into our national conscience. Omar Badjie of Mandinary is dead after a police pursuit ended not in lawful restraint but in a lifeless body rushed to the hospital. The village erupted; the police post was torn apart by furious youths. And still, the government pretends that this is just another “incident.”
I have said it before, and I will say it again: Adama Barrow is unfit to govern The Gambia. His bid for a third term is not merely a constitutional insult; it is an omen of gloom and doom for a fragile nation already drowning in mistrust and misrule. Only the selfish and short-sighted would cheer such a power grab, blind to the slow slide into lawlessness and bloodshed it guarantees.
Everywhere one looks, the security architecture is brittle, confidence in justice is hollow, and the gulf between police and people widens by the day. A president who cannot reform policing, professionalise security forces, or build civic trust after nearly a decade has no business extending his stay. To imagine him consolidating power for five more years is to flirt openly with anarchy.
Mark these words: if Barrow clings to this third-term fantasy, there will be more coffins, more shattered police posts, more restless young men who believe the state no longer serves them. Today it is Mandinary; tomorrow it could be any village or town where frustration has reached boiling point. A wise nation reads early tremors before the earthquake swallows it whole.
Gambia’s peace has always been delicate. To risk it for one man’s vanity is reckless beyond measure. Those who love this country should resist, peacefully but firmly, any attempt to entrench failure in State House. If we do not, Omar Badjie’s death will not be the last headline of sorrow. It will only be the beginning.
We all know the next step already. By next week, the government will likely announce yet another task force or commission of inquiry to investigate Omar Badjie’s death. Just as with countless past commissions, nothing will come out of it. No prosecutions, no genuine accountability, and certainly no jail time for those responsible. Our security agencies know this cycle too well: kill, cover up, form a committee, publish a report that gathers dust, and move on.
Victims of Kanilai’s protests, of the Sanyang tragedy, and of other brutal crackdowns still lick their wounds in silence. Their families were promised justice; none was delivered. Police officers and soldiers implicated in wrongful deaths continue to serve with impunity. This is not justice; it is state-sanctioned amnesia.
The best course of action for Omar Badjie’s family is to sue The Gambia, both domestically and internationally, for wrongful death. They must refuse to be placated by press releases and half-hearted inquiries. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, the Ecowas Court of Justice, and even the UN Human Rights Council have all been used effectively by other victims across Africa to seek redress when local remedies fail.
The silence of opposition parties and many civil society organisations is equally damning. Where are the protests? Where is the outrage from the groups that claim to defend human rights? Even the Edward Francis Small Center for Human Rights and Civil Liberties, run by activist Madi Jobarteh, and other once-vocal organisations have chosen quietism. There is a troubling pattern of cherry-picking outrage, condemning when it suits their politics and retreating when it does not. This killing is cold-blooded and it demands action, not whispers.
Look at the United States for contrast. When George Floyd was killed in 2020 under the knee of police officer Derek Chauvin, the streets filled with protesters demanding justice. The government, under immense pressure, prosecuted and convicted the officer, sentencing him to 22 years in prison. Departments were forced to review use-of-force policies, cities adopted body cameras, and a national conversation on police reform was reignited. America has far to go, but it showed that a democratic state can hold its security forces to account when public will is strong and institutions act.
In The Gambia, by contrast, we have neither accountability nor institutional courage. No officer has been imprisoned for wrongful death in the post-Jammeh era, despite repeated promises of security sector reform. If we continue to accept this culture of impunity, more families will bury their sons while the state sends condolence letters and forms commissions that do nothing.
If President Barrow truly believes in democracy, he should order an independent and public inquiry with prosecutorial teeth, not another toothless task force. Parliament should assert oversight and demand transparent reporting. Civil society should abandon selective activism and lead sustained protests until justice is done. And if the state refuses to act, the courts at home and abroad should be used to force accountability.
Until that happens, every Gambian should know: today it is Omar Badjie; tomorrow it could be your child, your brother, your neighbour. Peace survives only when justice is real.
