Black or White

Not a day goes by without hearing complaints from those residing in The Gambia about how desperate the situation is there. They lament about flying inflation, lack of employment and opportunity, harassment, intimidation, abuse,  chronic corruption, fear, and all this is done through whispering because they think someone is listening. Sometimes they just sum it up as “Gambia easywut”. You hear these complaints from people from all walks of life. From high government officials, lawyers, doctors, artists, business owners, petty traders, fish sellers at the market, and of course, the unemployed. Basically, across the spectrum! I would not be surprised to hear that Jammeh himself has uttered “Gambia easywut” a few times!

Folks are looking for every opportunity to flee and will risk their lives in doing so. A back way travel package sells like hot cake, especially around Christmas. I guess they are trying to escape the arrival of the “Semesters” and their swagger? The “Swagger parties” are on and in full swing as we speak. Groups are chipping in £20 or $50 each and throwing parties daily, while those struggling to afford “tapalapa” are enviously watching and wishing it was them. Amid all this, they also hear a panoply of stories about different adventures in the west from the semesters. At least for a couple of weeks, a semester is the envy of those they left behind as some make promises, most of which will never be delivered. Is there glory in such? Is this success?

On one hand, semesters are flocking to the smiling coast while most in the smiling coast are frowning. They are buying up kabaa ndombo, ditah, solom solom, koni, gerrteh saaf, kobo bu laka, and all those other little things that are now almost a luxury for the locals; even Talapia (wass) has now become scarce and a semi-luxury item. Semesters are sponsoring  Benechini Penda Mbye festivals, attaya sessions, pejeh shawarma, and throwing VIP swagger parties. On the other hand, too many locals are looking for a way out by any means necessary, and the back way numbers is a testament to that. Gambia ranks on the top in the region percentage wise in back travel. The Atlantic Ocean has swallowed too many Gambian youths and their promises and talents washed to shore as corpses hardened by rigamortis.  Senegal has also become a cradle. 

And the irony to me here is: While Gambians abroad flock for a life of temporary fantasy and party “semester style”, permanent residents are looking to escape their daily realities of crushing poverty, flying inflation, lack of employment and opportunity, harassment, intimidation, abuse, corruption and fear. 

So this brings me to my question: Is Gambia black or white? Gray maybe? Howma sah! 

Battle Of The Sexes

Picture courtesy of  http://chicorita.com

Should men and women be treated differently?  When rephrased, this question is actually asking if men and women are equal.  This question is not new and has been grappled with by thinkers in the past, present, and I’m certain in the future as well.  It is a very delicate and sensitive subject.  The world has been dominated by men probably since time began, and is still dominated by men.  But will it continue to be dominated by men? I guess time will tell.

However, let’s take a moment and go back in time to see how philosophers responded to this issue. The social status of women in ancient Greece was a very limited one to say the least.  In an era where women were little better than domestic slaves, there were few supporters of any kind of equality for them.  One of these rare supporters, surprisingly, was none other than the great philosopher Plato.  This was unheard of in Greek society - or any other society for that matter.  A woman in ancient Greece was typically always under the control or protection of a man.  In the Republic, Plato argued that women (at least those in the upper classes) must be assigned social roles, in the ideal state, equal (or approximately) to those of men.  Plato's position in the Republic is based upon his view that, "…women and men have the same nature in respect to the guardianship of the state.” First he compares the apparent weaknesses of women to men and how women (and men) each have individual strengths and talents.  For this reason, the woman then has equally, with the man, the same qualities which makes a guardian.  He suggested that the same education which makes a man a good guardian would make a woman a good guardian.

A generation later, Aristotle (Plato’s most famous disciple), had exactly the opposite view regarding women.  He believed a man to be an inherently better leader than a woman - the male is by nature fitter for command than the female - and the male is by nature superior and the female inferior; to Aristotle, the male was a ruler and the female was merely a subject.  Aristotle basically said that a woman should be obedient to the will of her husband/men.  He took a rather strict view of gender roles even comparing the male/female relationship to that of a master and slave.

Fast forward to 2015, the debate about gender equality is still raging.  While significant strides have been made since the days of Plato and Aristotle, the inequality between the sexes still persists.  For the feminists and their supports, “equal” doesn’t mean “same” – it means that men and women should be given the same opportunities, such as being offered the same jobs, assuming the same skill level; offered the same pay amount, assuming the same quality of work; and given the same ability to live a life free of fear and sexual harassment.  Although laws are on the books now to try to rectify some of the equalities between men and women in the work place, the rest of society has to also do its part in the social arena.  Some things you just can’t legislate laws for, it will take a shift in societal attitudes.  Our attitudes determine what we value and how we treat each other.

Despite being a product of a culture where women were and still are seen as less than men, my views on the issue have always been progressive.  My take on the issue, from a very young age, has always aligned with that of Plato.  Not that I was a young philosopher, or even remotely close to one, but I’ve always believed in basic fairness.  Growing up in The Gambia, like much of the world, women were always in the back seat when it came to decision-making at almost all levels, but at the front seat of taking care of the household.  Their duties weren’t official, but they were the hardest. Additionally, for a good number of women, they had to compete with a second, third or even a fourth wife in their marriages.  Luckily for me, this was not the case in my immediate family, but it was the reality for some of my friends and neighbors.  Even though this practice is sanctioned by the culture and I knew it, these inequalities still don’t sit well with me.  To quote Aristotle "…the worst form of inequality is to try to make unequal things equal." But as clearly articulated by today’s feminists and their supports, “equal” doesn’t mean “same” – it means that men and women should be given the same opportunities, that's all. Wish someone told Aristotle that!

Now that I have two daughters of my own, I have become even more of a believer in the equal treatment of men and women, not just in the work place, but in society and in general.  I see talent in my daughters that would rival any boy their age, and I hope with time my advocacy will intensify.  I’m a strong believer that talent has no gender and should not be assigned one.

My Peace

My Peace

You feed my soul and elevate my spirit

A permanent rainbow in my clouds that has no end

Your gentle ripples bring me endless tranquility

Your majestic waves carry me through the ups and downs

My Peace

With you my mind is sharp and my heart is receptive

You free me from contention and keep me gratified

You keep my heart dancing and my smile twinkling

Your presence motivates me and keeps me sane

My Peace

A safe and comforting space free from turbulence

Free from toxic vibes that pollute my mind and soul

My cocoon when the weather is inclement

For all these, I will forever cherish and treasure you

My Peace!

Hit By A Bus

Today I was hit by a bus

My body is numb and my bones are shattered 

The pain is excruciating and I feel it deep within 

My blood is rushing and my heart is working overtime

Today I was hit by a bus

A bus overloaded with our childhood memories 

Things we used to do and things we used to say

Places we used to go and people we've met

Today I was hit by a bus

Carrying conversations we used to have and plans we used to make

Laughter we used to share and jokes we used to make

Soccer games we played and all the trouble we got into together

I am saddened, weak and empty. Blindsided by the news of your passing, my head is still spinning and my knees are crumbling. But memories of our lifelong friendship will pull me through, for that's all I have left. Actually, what we had was more than a friendship, we were family. Rest in peace Pa! And may you be rewarded with the highest heavens. Until we meet again.

A tribute to Pa Salieu Jaiteh

A Struggling Artist

In the wake of Musa Ngum's passing, there has been much chatter about the lack of support Gambians give to their own. Is this a new revelation, I wonder? We have always known that Gambians are stingy with their support when it comes to their own and flamboyantly generous when it comes to others, especially Senegalese.

Gambians will climb a stage to shower Wally Secka with money, giss len ma style, and post a video of it. They will do the same for Titi, Thione, Assan Njie or any one of the Senegalese artists too. They will brag about being Wally's or Titi’s number one fan and the gift or gifts they have in store for them when they roll into town. Now change Wally's or Titi’s nationality to Gambian and they get jack! This is something we are all aware of and have been for the longest time. Nothing new here!

But now that Musa Ngum is no longer with us, everyone wants to own and celebrate him. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but it would have been much better while he was alive and struggling as an artist. Good thing though Musa Ngum loved and enjoyed his work, so regardless of the lack of support from his own, I’m sure he’s still proud of his achievements as an artist.

Rest in peace Musa!

AM v. FM – The War of the Meter Bands

Here are the two words that have dominated the Gambian discourse lately: Relevance and Expose. I hear them a lot and have been trying to contextualize them.

First, let’s explore their meanings in English. 1. Relevance:  Relating to the matter at hand; practical and especially social applicability.

2. Expose: Make (something) visible, typically by uncovering it; leave (something) uncovered or unprotected, especially from the weather.

Second, let’s explore the Gambian/struggle meanings. 1. Relevance: A. Having “imagined” authority/importance in the struggle. B. A vocal individual or group claiming to want change in Gambia but not practicing what they preach, and pretending to have the answers for Gambian's problems. 

2. Expose: A. To put someone else’s dirty and soiled laundry in the street and throw some into the River Gambia and let it float away; say negative things about them and their family members. B. Destroy/Tojal.

Those who think of themselves as "relevant" in this struggle, tend to dismiss others who they feel are trying to question them by declaring them "irrelevant". And once there is an actual conflict (aka hulo), then the next step is to "expose" each other, Gambian style. 

In the past couple of weeks, we’ve witnessed the Gambian versions of “Relevance” and “Expose” taken to higher heights, both online and on the radio airwaves. Mann dama waru sah! We now take pride in "exposing" each other with our sidekicks and a cheerleading squad to assist. 

Honestly, it has been a whirlwind for me! As I watched the war (AM V. FM) unfold and climax (or has it?), I was in total dismay not knowing what to think or feel. Kitchen sink here, toilet bowl there. Guy yee di jamanteh rek! 

Is this what the struggle has degenerated into? Is this what we are fighting for? Is this our vision for a better Gambia? Don't we have issues to talk about? Better yet, what do we want?

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

In this struggle, I see two schools of thought: 1. Those who want Jammeh to go by any means necessary and that he alone is the problem. And to them, getting rid of him will make our roses red and our violets blue again. 2. Those who want a better Gambia and society and want Jammeh to go, but also think that a change of attitude is highly necessary. Among those who are visible and vocal, the former is larger than the latter. 

If you are part of the first group, you are sowing seeds of weeds and telling yourself that it's roses. And if you are in the second group, you want our roses to be red and violets blue again. 

The param param, naw tak ak saganteh will not change our situation, but a change of attitude will. Our attitude determines how we treat each other, what we value, how we handle ourselves, and how we handle what we are entrusted with. 

If we don't shake our present attitude off soon, the "Mary-go-round" will never stop and our dizziness will persist!

Push And Pull

What does it mean to be a Gambian? I’m sure the answer to this question will vary, depending on who you ask and their experiences. It’s definitely not about dem heew, dem ngenteh, leka benachin, yaye chewing gum or saga ndey, because they do that in Senegal and other places too.

But regardless of what it means, one thing is certain, we must evolve as a people, especially for those who have traveled and seen other places. Traveling is what opened up the world and allowed the human race to share ideas and best practices, and now the internet has taken that to a new level. So there is really no legitimate reason, in my view, for us not to evolve in the way we do or handle things.

Our Gambian culture should not stop us from evolving, because we are not the only ones with a culture. Others have cultures too, and it didn’t stop them from evolving. Japanese culture has always been tight and rich, and it never stopped them from evolving as a people. In fact, it has gotten even  tighter and richer, as their evolution continues, by dropping some of their detrimental practices and picking up new and benign ones along the way. The evolution of a PEOPLE heavy depends on their willingness to permit their culture to evolve.

Heycho, njaykalantu, ak ngerow has always been part of Gambian culture, as far as I can remember. Luneka nyu haycho, njaykanlantu wala ngerow! Malo nyu haycho, taxi nyu haycho, deewleen nyu haycho. I can vividly remember standing in line to buy saku malo at Bakau NTC , and I was second in line that day too. But as soon as the doors opened, I found myself in the back of the line. Haycho bi neh kurr. I probably ended up being the 100th person to purchase saku malo that day.smh

When the junta took over power back in 1994, there were rumors of “haycho neka” president, and Jammeh won that one. Since then, mungee neka di ngerow. Struggle bi tam, ken demut bah len!

Wish we were able to let go of this detrimental aspect of our culture and substitute it with “collaboration and good intent”, it will place us at a much better place as a people and allow us to compete globally.

The Move

The address was 64 Dobson Street, Banjul, and the laughter and screaming of children could always be heard from far away. There was lots of yelling from the adults too, as they tried to quiet us down so they could hear each other in their private conversations. The houses were in close proximity and freely accessible to all living in the compound. Our mood and the games we played were determined by the weather. The aroma of delicious cooking always filled the air in the evening as each house prepared dinner. Don't follow your nose because you may end up in each house. 

My mother's call for dinner sometimes landed on deaf ears, depending on which house had my favorite meal for dinner. After a day of restless playing, there was nothing like churaa gerrteh ak sowe, fried fish with gravy, or oyster sauce (aka sauce si yohoss). You could always find me at the house that had either of these for dinner.

I was skinny, a little tall for my age, and very hyperactive. Good thing I didn't grow up in the West, methylphenidate or dextroamphetamine for ADHD is what the doctor would have ordered. Playing outside was my profession, and I perfected it. Over all, I was a happy-go-lucky kid, but dangerously audacious. With an unfettered curiosity, I was frequently getting admonished for doing something I had no business doing - always the first to get into trouble! I cannot begin to tell you the amount of play time I lost for sitting in time-out. I wish I could get some of that lost time back and cash it in, now that I have kids of my own and life has gotten hazardously busy.

My dad’s bicycle was my favorite toy, and I would always steal it for a joy ride around the neighborhood. Crowds would always gather as I rode around the block, with most wondering how I was able to ride an adult bicycle with such ease. Of course, this meant trouble every time my dad found out. With a frozen face and screaming his head off, he would rush into the street looking for me. Not that he was upset that I was riding his bicycle, but the fact that I was riding it in the street with cars flying by. Njeff rek! Ultimately though, things worked out in my favor, I compelled my dad to buy me my own bicycle.  

I was nine or ten and had spent the past two summer holidays at my uncle’s in Bakau and had always enjoyed it there. The soft mornings always lurked outside like a temptation, a call to wander aimlessly in the air and that I could never resist. A medley of bird sang delightful songs of freedom as they jumped from one branch to the next and picked away at fruits. With their vibrant colors dazzling to the eye and sweet songs pleasant to the ear, you couldn't help but appreciate nature. But I was not sure about permanently moving to Bakau because the possibility of being separated from my dad was a thought I didn’t want to entertain.

Bakau was different from Banjul – Banjul was vibrant, while Bakau was quiet and operated at a much slower pace. I was used to commotion, and the proximity of my cousins, uncles and aunts, was going to drastically change with a move to Bakau. These were the thoughts inundating the valleys of the mind and gusting through my brain when I was alone, and not knowing how to process them frequently left me emotionally dizzy. The culture in Gambia is such that children are never included in any family decision making process; they are only informed of decisions, if they are lucky. 

It was a breezy Banjul Saturday evening; and the breeze was shaking the tree leaves with a passionate hissing, as I walked home. That was the day the news landed on me. I can vividly remember. In a soft voice and measured words, my dad informed me that I was moving to Bakau to stay with my uncle the following week. Unbeknownst to me, a farewell party was planned for me on that following Saturday. All my uncles and aunts came bearing gifts. I had mixed feelings. I was happy and excited about the abundant gifts, but a bit apprehensive about the move itself. But I never had a choice in the matter. As I sorted through the gifts after the party, my young life was flashing right in front of my eyes. I sat there reminiscing about all the little adventures I had and how I would miss everyone. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night, with my head saturated with thoughts and my eyes wide open. Lying in the dark, I was trying to envision what my immediate future was going to be like. 

Although Bakau was only eight miles away, it was quite a distance for a nine or ten year old, especially back then. That night, in my vision in the dark, Bakau became even further. I dreaded the sun light for I knew it meant a long term separation, something that was foreign to me. As expected, the sun came out and I felt my dad standing over me while I was still in bed. My eyes were closed but my soul was wide awake. I pretended to be asleep just so I could hear him call out my name to wake me up. Breakfast was silent that Sunday morning; I sat at the breakfast table slowly nibbling on a piece of bread and lost in thought. My dad kept saying something to me, but I only heard his voice and not a word he said. 

By mid-day, our house was filled with well-wishers and a few more gifts. Almost everyone had a word of advice for me (“neekinaa sambata njie”), but I was too emotionally scattered to listen. Later that afternoon, a rented taxi pulled up to our house and my belongings were loaded into it. With my dad sitting in the front, I entered into the back seat with my numerous gifts and random belongings as everyone waved good bye. Overwhelmed with emotion and my eyes soaked with tears, I fought hard to hold them back as the taxi departed. Looking through the car’s back window, I watched the other children chasing the car and the house fading away in the distance. It was now official, I was moving to Bakau and my dad was moving to London. The following day, I joined a soccer and tree climbing team. 

The Thione Seck 100 Million Euro Saga

(Image from seneweb.com)

They say “there is nothing new under the sun”, but I dispute that! Thione Seck’s claim that he was contracted by a Gambian promoter for 100 million euros, to do an international tour in five continents with over 100 dates is new under the sun. Gambia as a country does not have 100 million euros to her name, and I don’t believe any Gambian promoter has a quarter of that in their name.

Jammeh is said to have a net worth of 1.8 billion dollars, which is more than 100 million euros, but he is a president not a promoter? Or is he? He does pay Senegalese artists to perform in his frequent jamborees and shower them with cash, but does that equal to being a promoter? Excuse my -ignorance, my knowledge of the music business is limited. 

Here’s is what I don’t get: After nearly 40 years in the business, Thione still can't value his talent? 100 million euros for some Raam Daan? In his song "Halis nehna", Youssou only wanted saaku halis. But Thione, on the other hand, with a far more inferior talent, wants aye saaku saaku halis? Put all the Senegalese artists together and they are not worth a 100 million euro show. How can one always talk about God but value only money? And, who in their right mind will accept 50 million euros in cash for advance payment and keep it in their house? I’ve never seen 50 million euros in cash, real or counterfeit, but my imagination tells me that it’s a boat load!

Funnily , Thione seck said he was surprised by his arrest because he was just doing his job by receiving half of the contract money in cash from a stranger. Really? This is how he does business after all these decades?

After all these years of taking cash, gold and benachin from Gambians, I guess the well has finally dried up. But Thione still wants more, so Mr. Promoter got creative. If Thione can’t tell when he’s being dragged in the bushes with his experience, then it’s time to hang his boots, and change “Raam Daan” to “Daw Daan”, because it’s time to run for the hills!

Reckless People

Hired fired hired fired and hired and fired again

Arrested shackled paraded humiliated and jailed

They return consciously seeking more thrill of shame

Consumed by fear bearing gifts and praying for emperor

How vain is blind and detrimental loyalty to the soul

Conscience on vacation and decadence filling in

Reckless hopeless miserable they've been dragged by the tail

Bodies bruised battered and burning like a heatwave

Aching souls and bleeding conscience dot the landscape

Still they carry the burden under the heat and dust

The wheels keep spinning leaving the audience violently dizzy

Night becomes day man becomes God and wrong becomes right

Dreams become nightmares and burn like raging fire

Visions gloomy truth disappear and spirits melt away

Youths recruited and given bow and arrows as weapons

As child soldiers they run around shooting poems and essays

Self- swayed their egos swell and they spit rapid fire 

Misdirected shots keep hitting the wrong targets 

High on banti yomba and residing in cloud nine

A penitentiary enclosed by rings of smoke 

Lost in space they drift away in the absence of gravity

Bag full of devalued currency screaming aling domo aling nyeemi

Shrewd investment or a shockingly bad one?

Young and doing big things or digging big holes?

Thirsty but the wisdom well is dry to the bone

Who will rescue and rehabilitate the child soldiers and reckless people? 

Gambian Turns 50

The idea of fighting for Independence, gaining it, and self-rule sounds pretty romantic, right? But as Gambia celebrates 50 years of Independence, I'm not looking at the "romantic" aspect, but the "reality" aspect instead. Where are we after 50 years? That is the question. 

Some argue that we should all be patriotic and celebrate Gambia for her beauty and culture in her 50th year of nationhood, and not ask questions or utter unfavorable comments. But is that what celebrating our Independence means? 

First, let’s look at what Independence means. Independence is a condition of a nation, country, or state in which its residents and population, or some portion thereof, exercise self-government, and usually sovereignty, over the territory. Second, what does it mean to be patriotic? Patriotism literally means to have love and devotion for country, which is subject to interpretation, depending on who you ask.

If by “country” you mean nature – rivers, rocks, beaches, majestic mountains, and the like, then that’s not patriotism for me. That belongs to nature and almost every country has a nice collection of rocks, rivers, beaches and mountains or hills. If that is what patriotism means, then Gambia have precious little we can claim and show massive love for, because I have seen prettier out there. And would anyone give up their life for a beach or river? Certainly not!

Patriotism is not a blind trust in anything our leaders tell us or do either, that would constitute a “mindless goose-stepping syndrome.” Waving or posting the flag can be a sign of patriotism, but that’s only outward, so let’s not cheapen the term by suggesting that it’s more than just an outward sigh. I have seen and heard Gambians express a feeling of something we superficially call “patriotism”, so the question then must be asked – what is this thing, anyway? Is it so cheap that and meaningless that a simple gesture of waving or posting a flag makes you patriotic?

In my little book, I subscribe to a patriotism deeply rooted in the reasons we sought Independence and the idea of good self-governance, not culture or scenery.  Self-governance must include the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These are unalienable rights endowed to man by God. The role of government is to protect the peace, our property, and preserve liberties, and doing so with the consent of the people. It’s the right of a free people to resist a government that has become abusive and destructive, as part of the laws of nature. To me, this plays a huge role in the meaning of patriotism. 

But my question still remains: Where are we after 50 years of Independence? With that, I now leave you with the National Anthem.

For The Gambia, our homeland

We strive and work and pray,

That all may live in unity,

Freedom and peace each day.

Let justice guide our actions

Towards the common good,

And join our diverse peoples

To prove man's brotherhood.

We pledge our firm allegiance,

Our promise we renew;

Keep us, great God of nations,

To The Gambia ever true.

What About Love

Do you remember that someone in your adolescent years who made your heart thump and hands sweat? Seeing them became terrifying and exhilarating. Would you see them at school? See them in the street? You hoped and prayed. But when your wishes were granted, and you got a glimpse of them, it satisfied nothing; it only inflamed you even more. You pump your fist and smile when you are alone, when you’ve achieved nothing but a mere glimpse. Every time you summon your courage or confidence to talk to them, neither will show. 

Most of us have been in love or known people that are in love. Love is all around us. Love has fascinated people throughout history with its joys and sorrows, and has inspired songs, films, novels, poems and academics whose passion is to study human interactions and relationships. We’ve all heard stories about love and how the individuals involved were affected, whether positively or negatively. 

There are stories about people in love eloping and some committing suicide because family or society said no to their love. Romantic love has traditionally been seen as dangerous in India, because it’s a threat to a well-crafted caste system in which marriages are arranged to preserve lineage and bloodlines. While “love marriages” appear to be on the rise in India now, it’s often against parents’ wishes.  People have always killed and will continue to kill in the name of love. Love makes you bold, makes you shine, makes you run real risk, which you sometimes survive, and sometimes you don’t.

Anyone will be hard pressed to precisely define love; instead, it is better to loosely describe it in its various forms. Love is a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes of interpersonal affection. This can include an emotion of strong attraction and personal attachment in a relationship.

Based on psychologist Robert Sternberg’s triangular theory of love, in the context of interpersonal relationships, “the three components of love are an intimate component, a passion component, and a decision/commitment component.” Intimacy – encompasses feelings of attachment, closeness, connectedness, and bonding. Passion – encompasses drives connected to both obsession and sexual attraction. Commitment – encompasses the decision to remain with another, whether short term or long term. Intimacy, passion and commitment are basically the pillars of love.

The dosage of love one experiences depends on the complete strength of these three components, and their strengths relative to each other. Different combinations of these three elements will determine the stages and type of love one experiences; for example, the weight of each component changes over time as a romantic relationship progresses. A relationship based on just one of the elements is less likely to succeed than one based on two or all three elements. Although Robert Sternberg’s theory includes seven different forms of love such as nonlove, friendship, infatuated love, empty love, passionate love, companionate love and Fatuous love, this piece will only focus on passionate love and companionate love.

Passionate love is also known as romantic love. Passionate love derives from a combination of the intimate and passionate components of love...romantic lovers are not only drawn physically to each other but are also bonded emotionally. A romantic relationship often starts out as infatuated love and quickly grows as intimacy develops.

Although love takes many forms, passionate love is generally present in the initial stages of every couple’s love life. It is the state of extreme captivation and the desire for each other. It is a stage of intense feelings of tenderness, elation, anxiety, sexual desire, and pleasing delight. Passionate love also causes physiological arousal, such as accelerated heartbeat, sweating, blushing, and butterflies, with a feeling of heightened excitement. These elements often dominate passionate love. New relationships are generally consumed by passionate love. 

New couples can never seem to have enough of each other. They avoid conflicts and ignore faults, all in the name of passion. Logic and reason always take the back seat when passion is in control.  Sweets and gifts power romantic passion. You will always hear “I will do anything for you,” “I will give you the world,” blah blah blah! But biochemists say this feverish stage of love usually burns out after a few years. Why? Don’t ask me, I’m not the expert here.  Perhaps the brain can’t maintain the intense neural activity of romance? Sounds reasonable to me! Without developing commitment, romantic love may quickly disappear into thin air.

Companionate love is a bit less emotionally intense than passionate love. It is defined by an intimate friendly affection and a strong attachment. It is founded on understanding, appreciation, thoughtfulness, and friendly affection. This type of love is observed in long-term relationships where passion is long gone, but where a deep affection and the element of long-term commitment remain. Gone is the “pitter patter” feeling in your heart when you see your partner! Companionate love entails the acceptance of your partner's shortcomings along with a genuine yearning to work through obstacles in a relationship. It takes commitment and nurturing to make such a relationship strong and gives it longevity.

When it comes to companionate love, because of the ease of communication in such a relationship, sex is said to be more familiar and secure with a deep knowledge and understanding of your partner, psychologically and physically. Lovers want stability and often desire and value friendship. Passion alone is not enough; being friends with your partner is critical in order for love to last. In a nutshell, companionate love can be interpreted as the affection two people feel for each other when their lives are genuinely intertwined.  With all the extra pounds and baggage time brings, a companionate relationship will still hold strong; even the arguments will have a feel of fuzziness to them, and a feeling of familiarity and comfort. 

Birds of the same feathers flock together or opposites attract? It is hard to answer the age old question as to why and who people fall in love with, but there are a few floating ideas out there that are very much valid. Proximity, similarity, chemistry, reciprocity, and physical attraction are known to play key roles in why and whom we fall in love with. Proximity brings people together by default. Being in the same geographical area brings people together and we often develop relationships with people whom we see regularly in the places we frequent. Having similar interests, values, beliefs and attitudes are other magnets that bring people closer together and can lead to a romantic relationship. 

With the brain being the main sex organ, chemistry is another agent. A rise in chemicals such as norepinephrine, dopamine and phenethylamine can create excitement and a sense of euphoria and draw people together. When people are shown a sign of interest, they tend to reciprocate, and thereby setting the wheels in motion for more interactions, which may in turn lead to a relationship. And physical attraction is generally where it all starts. You see, you like, and you approach. Though love may be universal, its cultural manifestation is not. For the Fulbe tribe in northern Cameroon, composure matters more than passion. Romance is frowned upon and men who spend too much time with their wives are taunted, and those who are weak-kneed are thought to be under a daring spell. So don’t expect to run into them at a flower shop, See's Candy store, or Victoria Secret. 

I bet we can all agree that falling in love is euphoric, fun, intriguing, and exciting, but it is not always all it's made up to be. The reasons people fall in love aren't always healthy or good for them, and sometimes falling for the wrong person can leave you emotionally and psychologically stranded. But at the end of the day, passion, which can usually be found in the earlier stages of a relationship, can diminish, but with commitment, it can turn into a healthy companionate love. In the end, this evolution that occurs in a relationship is a good thing and can be seen as a sign of a mature relationship. Personally, I believe it is ideal to have both passionate and companionate love in a relationship, given that both partners have the ability and the capacity. In addition, a strong balance between the two different types of love is something that every couple should strive to attain and preserve. Good luck!