When I Was A Wrestler

In Bakau, if it wasn’t one thing, then it’s another, and sometimes it was wrestling (aka borey). They would fence the Bantaba right in the heart of Bakau Dingko kono with a sakett, and voila, you have your arena. The Bantaba was located at an intersection that had a big tree with huge surface roots, and on normal days, you would find people sitting on the surface roots using them as benches – they were that huge. The space was wide enough to temporarily fence a section of it with sakett, and still allow room for passing traffic and pedestrians. The sand at the Bantaba was soft like tissue and perfect for wrestling. 

On such days, pure normalcy would drift into excitement, and later lapses into festiveness as the showdown draws near. Tickets were sold at the gate with the usual haycho, Gambian style. The wrestlers would dance to the drum rhythm of the beat of their respective cultures as they gear up to lock horns. The wrestling matches where mainly between the Fulas and the Jolas, and occasionally a couple of Balantas. The teams would sit across from each other, and the Balantas usually sat with the Fulas. 

The wrestlers (mborrs) came in different weight classes, but for some reason, the bigger mborrs tend to have more juju. However, the smaller mborrs were more exciting to watch because their matches were fast a furious – with less juju! There were some mborrs who would wrestle each other most of the time and the audience liked to see them pair, but sometimes it was hard to tell who was going to be locking horns with whom, until you see them dancing their way to the center of the arena. They would then start performing their various rituals and humbal tuti preceding to their showdown.

The organizers had a free entrance policy for kids, provided they brought a bucket of water for the mborrs to rinse themselves off after their tussle. I believe this was the policy in other arenas as well. So on days when I couldn’t afford the fare, I would grab a sewo plastic from home, jarr yoni ganaw, and fill it up at the pompeh mbeda at the junction of Jallow Kunda ak Secka Kunda. From there, I only had roughly seventy to a hundred meters to walk to the Bantaba arena. Once in, I would try to sit as close as possible to where the buckets of water were placed because the proximity was crucial, if you wanted to keep an eye on your bucket and away from sacha kat yee – I had to return it home.

Once the action started, I became focused and attentive, learning the tricks – tricks like galgal fayti, lippi, busulu jalang, worr ndombo, kalang, mbass, ak ennu baychi. One of my favorite mborrs was called Borbor Dinding (I am convinced he was a Balanta), and he looked more like a sasuman than a mborr. He was slender, but infinitely skilled. His style awkward, but effective. He would quickly turn around and have his opponent behind him, which is generally considered a compromising position, but not for Borbor Dinding. That was his strength and part of his game plan. He would then let his opponents struggle to bring him down before swiftly flipping the script on them and bringing them down instead. That was his signature move, and it always worked. Rumor also had it that he used to moonlight as a Mamapara tam. Hamnga rumor time mi ndo rek!  

As always, as soon as the event ended, it was time for the “mbojo mbojo” mborrs like myself to enter the fray, size up each other, and practice our moves. I was good at everything but ennu baychi, my skinny frame wouldn’t allow me. Nonetheless, my victories there were many, and it was always fun. We also used to borey at school, during break time or after studies in the evening, and our matches can be so random sometimes too. We could be walking and having a conversation, and all of a sudden have the urge to lock horns. We were some unpredictable wrestlers for sure.

I remember walking with a classmate/friend (name withheld, but he might be reading this piece) after studies one evening and found a nice patch of fine sand diggi Bakau School, so we decided to borey. We gently sat our books on the side and began to tussle. I went in for a quick lippi followed by a busulu jalang with him landing on his head. There was radio silence for a moment before he started moaning and groaning, then said in a very soft voice “woyayoye wonanaa suma puruhh bi.” At first I thought he was joking, but when he couldn’t move, I got scared. For a swift second, I believed I had committed murder! Soon after, to my relief, he quickly recovered and we were on our merry way home.

I was also once challenged, after a string of wins during break time under the big tree at Bakau School by an older kid in primary six (name withheld, but he is in Norway now). I believe I was in primary four then. I went for the mbass move on that occasion, and he was down in a jiffy. Once everyone started laughing, he wanted to turn it into a fight, rek maneh sirr daw! I have since retired from wrestling after I left Bakau School, but if you would like to challenge me, you can rewind the hands of time and meet me at the Bakau Bantaba or diggi Bakau School. Ironically, though, I never consulted “Marabout Janneh” for my wrestling, I relied purely on skill and agility. Barra sewna y wenge la. Rendeng! When Gambia was nice. 

Things Fall Apart

After the fall of Goloh, Gambia reached euphoria and the excitement hit a crescendo. Promise filled the air and the political capital was flowing. The entire world was in admiration and they praise sang Gambia better than all our Jalibas combined. Gambia was smiling and on the rise again. 

But the euphoria was short lived, poisoned by partisan politics. The Tactical Alliance shattered it all! The coalition went from a rock to a million pebbles. UDP was now the Big Dog and all the hungry bellies ran and joined them. Soon, their numbers hit the millions - rally, upon rally, blanketed by a cloud of dust. 

From the outside looking in, everything seemed wonderful and we were told that size matter. We even saw Darboe grab the mic 🎤and hit a few high notes when he performed the hit song “Darboe yay banko taa.” For the UDP congregation, the sun was shining and occasionally penetrating the cloud of dust and sending a ray of light their way, activating “kufang mode.” 

It was all about party politics now and a father and son affair. But as it turns out, the son is a “ding kurung”, and Gambia is suffering for it. That’s where we are now - ndam demut, ndam dekut, nyepp tork di horley. Nee lafa tajor. Running like a hamster and going nowhere!

Marabout Story

Prior to moving to Bakau as a boy, I only used to hear about Marabouts when adults talk about them, but never seen one; and if I did, I don’t remember. I am sure Marabouts used to come to Banjul, but I do not have a vivid memory of actually encountering one. We used to see the “Sasaboros” and run away because we were told that they kidnap people, especially kids, but I don’t think they are considered Marabouts. They were just hustling by selling some “boro”.

After moving to Bakau, there was a man who lived on our street in Conteh Kunda. His name was Janneh and he lived in the one room house at the junction by the pompeh mbeda. His house was part of Conteh Kunda, but built outside of the their fence at the junction. I am not sure how that worked, but the house was part of their compound nonetheless. The house was also located under the Taba tree (guyi taba bi). I believe Janneh was a renter there and would sometimes go back to sen dayka for a few months at a time. I never knew fu sen dayka neyka, and not sure why I never asked.

Janneh was probably in his late 50s or early 60s, small in stature, walked with a limp, and had a good temperament. He was always chewing kola nuts and smiling, and his smile was soft and inviting. Almost every evening, Janneh and his friends could be found brewing attaya in front of his doorstep, engrossed in conversation and occasionally snapping out of it to exchange pleasantries with passers-by (alli bay nyadee, sue mole lay?). Evenings in Bakau were always pleasant with a light touch of breeze softer than a feather, and Janneh and his friends always seized the opportunity to bask in it and sip their attaya.

Not quite sure how and when, but I found out that Janneh was considered to be a Marabout and said to have a Ginay. It was also said that Ginay bi lived si guyi Taba bi. Being that my unfettered curiosity has always haunted me, I soon befriended Janneh and was lightning his furrno for him sometimes for his attaya sessions (di opa opa yu tanga nak beh afferr bi yanja). I would also pass by occasionally just to say hello. I was intrigued by the Ginay thing for some reason, but didn’t know how to approach it.

I remember we once had a challenge game against Wa Police Line and I went to Janneh purr mu sanni nyu some nyan. Whether it worked or not, I had a good game that day, di dagasseh rek!⚽️😆. Moving to Bakau also introduced me to robi pecha (hunting birds 🦅) with a slingshot. We used to make them using inner tubes from bicycle tires, and they came in red and black rubber. The red one was the preferred one because it was a better quality - the rubber was more refined and gave you a better stretch. We used to call it “engine”.  Of course, it was more expensive, but well worth it.

My friendships with Janneh quickly grew and I became more comfortable asking him questions and making requests. I had asked Janneh to teach me a verse to recite when hunting petah (bedifin) with my slingshot so I can hit my target 🎯 because I was getting tired of missing. Here is the verse Janneh gave me “watakulun gebaru, seeran.” Dumakor fateh muk! I still don’t know what it means though. But hey, it was something to hang on to. I was soon reciting it while pulling my slingshot after memorizing it. I would pull to the max and recite, but once I release my slingshot, I would hit a branch instead and the petah would fly away. Not good! So I went back to Janneh to tell him that the verse he gave me wasn’t working. That’s when he told me that I had to recite the verse seven times first before releasing my slingshot. So I tried that a few times too, but by the time I am done reciting “watakulun gebaru, seeran” seven times, the petah would have sensed that danger was lurking and fly away. Smh. I don’t even know if I ever brought down a petah with “watakulun”, fateh na sah!

But I was not done with Janneh yet! I walked into his house one evening and started a conversation about his Ginay. I have heard of Ginays before, many times sah - Ginay bu gorr, Ginay bu gegain, Ginay bu amm kawarr bu gudaa guda, ak Jinay bu refetta refet! In that conversation, Janneh showed me a patch of sand in the corner of the house across from his bed and said that’s where his Ginay stands when he visits him. Apparently, the Jinay lived si guyi Taba bi just like rumor had it. Sitting there and listening to Janneh tell me the story of his Ginay, I was attentive and feeling tensed, but I was not afraid. As a ten-year-old boy, I was trying to make sense out of my environment and my daily interactions. My brain was still developing and my belief system was beginning to form, so I had to feed my curiosity. Life is all about trying to make sense of our surroundings as we journey through. May Janneh’s soul Rest In Peace