What Happended to Banjul? Part III - Banjul, Our Banjul

Photo courtesy of http://www.bradtguides.com

The aborted Banjul Mayoral debate that was to have taken place recently is another painful reminder of how we, Banjulians, betrayed the city we claim we love, by abandoning it for the Kombos. Our 'kerri chosan' thankfully has undergone extensive renovation. Thanks to my nephews and nieces, naturally all living abroad, for making it possible. It has always been occupied by members of the family and, I hope, it ways will. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of many compounds that have been abandoned. Crumbling or collapsed homes that were once the pride of the city litters the Banjul landscape thus providing additional habitat for the mean Banjul mosquitoes that Momodou Ndow described in his revealing and excellent pieces about the city. His great-great-great grandfather will be very disappointed with him for abandoning the city that has been good to the Ndow family as it has been for the Sanneh family. 

The city will not be saved by the resident of Kanilai who sees Banjul as a place to coerce its residents into keeping the APRC in power. I do not expect him to do anything that will revive a once thriving hub of an up-and-coming economy driven by an equally thriving agricultural sector. After all why save a city that will compete with Kanilai for the title of the premier Gambian city. Jammeh's strategy is to keep promising Bajulians an urban renewal program that never materializes for votes that always do. He is at it again by denying Samba Faal permission to face the electorate in a debate with the opposition candidates that would have revealed Jammeh and the APRC of having no plans for the city. Government policy appears to be to develop Kanilai into the capital of the country which makes little sense. Because it makes no sense, it will be promoted by Jammeh. That has been our experience with Jammeh and the A(F)PRC. 

The onus is now on us, led by Grand Marshall Momodou Ndow, to start the gentrification movement to save the city that we all claim to love. The residents of Banjul have been shafted, and left holding the bag one too many times by politicians who do not even live in the city. The one genuine Banjul resident and an Independent who won election fair and square was hounded out of office by Jammeh and the APRC. They managed to exile a once promising politician. The bright aspect of this unfortunate saga is that Pa Sallah Jeng is young enough to return and reclaim his rightful place in Gambian politics. That said, it is evident that those who live in the city do not have a say in the way their city is run. They are not even considered deserving of a mayoral debate to listen, and accorded the opportunity to ask questions about candidates' plans and proposed programs for dealing with the daunting issues facing them as residents. Banjul can be saved. Do not tell me it cannot be done. Ouagadougou was in worse shape in the 1980s than Banjul is today but you can hardly tell by looking at the Ouaga of today. Get on with it Momodou Ndow. Lead the charge. 

What Happened to Banjul? - My Story - Part II

A city is a relatively dense and permanent settlement. They were initially formed as central places of trade for the benefit of citizens living in close proximity to each other. Such form of living facilitates all sorts of interactions. The benefits of city life includes reduced transportation cost, exchange of ideas, large local trade markets etc. As more people were attracted to cities in search of business opportunities, the need for amenities such as running water and sewage disposal became obvious. One of the most important amenities for a city to have is a proper working sewage system. Every modern city needs to have a sewage system in order to protect public health and prevent diseases such as typhoid and cholera. The focus of a sewage system is to convey raw sewage to a natural body of water, for example, a river or ocean, where it would be suitably treated and degenerated.

In the developed world, city sewage systems are usually constructed with pipes that connect from buildings to one or more levels of larger underground main pipes, which transport the sewage to a sewage treatment facility. Vertical manhole pipes connect the main pipes to the surface. The manholes are used for access to the sewer pipes for inspection and maintenance. These more sophisticated sewage systems are considered the conventional type. There is also a more inferior type of sewage system known as Simplified sewage. This is a low-cost sewer system with smaller diameter pipes at fairly flat slope. Simplified sewers are sometimes laid under pavements (if feasible), rather than in the centre of the road as with conventional sewerage. It is generally used in unplanned low-income areas, as well as new housing estates with a regular layout. With a simplified sewage, it is crucial to have management arrangements in place to remove blockages, which are more frequent than with conventional sewerage. The concept of simplified sewerage simultaneously emerged in Nepal, Brazil and Karachi, Pakistan in the early 1980s.

Henry Bathurst

Founded in 1816 by the British, Banjul was used as a trading post and base for repressing the slave trade. It is on St Mary’s Island, where the Gambia River enters the Atlantic Ocean. It was first named Bathurst after Hendry Bathurst, the secretary of the British Colonia Office, but was later change to Banjul in 1973. My great-great-great grandfather, Imam Abdourahman Sowe and his family were among the early settlers there. One of the streets in Banjul is named after my great-great grandfather Imam Omar Sowe, the son of Imam Abdourahman Sowe. My grandfather, Alhagie Alieu Ndow was born there in 1887. My father and I were also born in Banjul, and we still have a couple of family compounds there, even though we also later moved to the Kombos in the late 1970s.

As one of the smallest cities in the world, Banjul never really had a sewage system. Most of the compounds in Banjul had pail latrines that were collected at night when they became full and replaced with empty ones. They were then taken to a central location to be transported to the waste dumpsite located outside the city at Mile 2 prisons area. As more city dwellers gravitated towards Banjul in search of business opportunities and employment, the population started to steadily grow and public toilets were set up to further accommodate the needs of the residence. But this was not enough and something had to be done for the sake of human health and just plain old sanity. There were some compounds in Banjul that had private septic tanks and would pay a fee for BCC (Banjul City Council) to send their big tanker truck to empty the septic tanks when they were full.

In the early 1980’s, the then government adopted a policy to construct a modern sewage system in Banjul to eliminate the previous “human system” run by Banjul City Council’s Health and Services Department.

SOBEA (a French company) was contracted to develop Banjul’s sewage system. Work on the city's sewage project began in 1984. SOBEA brought in their heavy equipment and the unearthing began. So many streets were being dug up at once, and I was convinced that Banjul had diamond, gold or oil. The city was full of traffic detours and if you were a driver who didn't know your way around, you will probably end up where you started a few times over before figuring your way out. Although you can always hire a taxi and the drivers had no problem navigating the city, but your ribs will pay a heavy price as they recklessly speed over the potholes. The tar roads were on their last leg before being excavated by SOBEA, never to be the same again. I remember getting off a taxi once, two blocks shy of my destination because my ribs were screaming. I slept like a log that night! The work SOBEA did with the sewage system was perfunctory at best, and it left the city's roads that were already wounded for dead.

It didn’t take long after the sewage project was finished for the problem of pipe blockage, leakage and overflow to surface. The quality of the work was perfunctory at best (merci beaucoup SOBEA!). In constructing the sewage system, SOBEA used smaller pipes that were frequently choking and causing the system to overflow. Ultimately, the whole problem basically came down to lack of proper planning by the government. For a project of such magnitude, it is critical that the citizens are sensitized prior to commencing the project, and that reliable management and maintenance arrangements put in place to remove blockages, which are more frequent than with conventional sewerage. The people of Banjul were never educated about what can and can’t go into the new sewage system, so they threw almost everything in it, including solid objects. This was one of the main causes of the frequent blockage and subsequent overflows. Another mistake the government made at the time was not having a provision in their contract with SOBEA for them to restore the roads to their previous condition or better after they were done. In hindsight, it is my opinion that the government had a GRAND PLAN of building a conventional sewage system in Banjul, but the actual materials that were used by SOBEA are for a Simplified Sewage system. Was the government scammed by SOBEA or were the people overseeing the project in cahoots? When a government takes a loan to fund such a massive project, the construction contract should have all the appropriate provisions.

Dilapidated roads need to be cared for too. And who was there to do that? Public Works Department (PWD). The Public Works Department never really did a good job of maintaining the roads before they were butchered by SOBEA in the first place, but something is better than nothing. A PWD road maintenance session involved a bucket or wheelbarrow full of tar patch, a shovel, couple of guys and a piece of metal equipment to pound the patch into the potholes. These repairs were obviously temporary and would begin to come apart after a few months of use, but their worst enemy was the rains. They were mostly all rinsed away by the first heavy rain, so it was never a good idea for such repairs to be done right before the rainy season. I wonder what the guaranteed workmanship period was? With the roads worse than before SOBEA matched into town, a mediocre sewage system that was constantly choking, and a public that was never sensitize about the project, Banjul’s environmental problems multiplied. 

TAF Brufut Garden Estates, one of the new developments
in the Kombos

With the population shift now to the Kombos, the need to construct a sewage system there is inevitable. Even though some of the homes in the Kombos do have private septic tanks, the need for a sewage system is still there, in other to support the accelerating population growth we are now seeing in the Kombos. It is my hope that when the time comes (in the next 10 or 15 years), lessons would have been learned from the Banjul experience and that proper planning and tight policies will be in place to avoid the mistakes that were made when the sewage system in Banjul was being constructed. Proper planning and tight policies will always save the day!

Special thanks to Joey Goswell for clarifying a couple of issues on the SOBEA.

The New Gambia – Nothing but the truth so help me God!

Just to clarify, I don’t have any affiliation with any Gambian political party nor do I have a political hat to throw into the political ring, but what I do have is my Gambian birth certificate, and I can supply an army of witnesses to corroborate these claims. Furthermore, my Gambian pride is in my values, the way I carry myself, my smile and how I interact and treat others.  

I also have a confession to make: I have now lived outside of The Gambia for more than half of my life and have never voted there either, but that’s not the point here. Nonetheless, I am very much passionate about the country and interested in her well-being. My concerns are as legitimate as anyone else’s! 

President Jammeh Claiming AIDS cure

It is no doubt that The Gambia has changed and that’s one thing we can all agree on. You see, I was not there when the military coup happened in 1994, but I’ve heard numerous versions of how it all went down (Radio kang kang). Since then, we’ve witnessed The Gambia become a (paradise) for curing aids and the fundamental rights of Gambians erode like Banjul Cemetery. Journalists are routinely arrested as if they are common criminals. They are now branded as enemies of the state and subjected to detention, imprisonment and even torture. Some just vanish in thin air, like Chief Ebrima Manneh. Oh, and Deyda Hydara was assassinated, how can I forget. The shelve life of a Gambia based journalist has significantly shorten, unless they are writing to sing praises of the powers that be. Judges, lawyers and religious leaders are also randomly arrested, detained and denied the opportunity to perform their legal or social obligations. Those in the Diaspora speaking out are labeled “keyboard warriors” for raising the Athena and sounding the alarm. By the way, I think such a term (keyboard warrior) is more complimentary than it is disparaging. Do you believe in the power of the internet?

The situation reached a crescendo this past August after nine death row prison inmates were executed, despite repeated appeals from the international community for their lives to be spared. The president followed through a threat he made on Eid day (end of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan and a day of forgiveness), to execute all 47 death row inmates. After nine inmates were executed in one day, outrage ensued around the world and The Gambia immediately became the focus of international media again, since the “Aids cure claim” back in 2007.  The internet was inundated with postings and Gambians in the Diaspora declared a day of outrage. Demonstrations were held in different cities around the world (New York, Washington DC, Atlanta, London and a few others) to express indignation and disapproval. On the other side of the spectrum, The Gambia government initially denied the executions, and then later defiantly defended it. The general Gambian public was paralyzed with fear; they whispered and wept in sadness (woye suma ndey, nyune hamunge lee). But a couple of “Teflon Don” veteran politicians did come out with statements and roundly condemned the act.  

Unless you have been living under a rock, in denial or manufacturing your own truth, you should be aware of the oppression Gambian citizens have been subjected to in recent years. The judicial system (now outsourced to Nigerian judges) has been discounted and The Gambia (a country of 1.7 million) is now divided into a million pieces. Brother against brother, sister against sister, neighbor against neighbor, uncle against nephew, aunt against niece and the list goes on. Chief Justice Ayim’s goodbye letters on maafanta.com revealed nothing we didn’t suspect or already know, for me at least. But what it did is crystallize everything for us. In it he said “Gambians for the most part are their own worst enemies”. Do I believe this? I’m very much inclined to! Given the infighting he mentioned in the University, Bar and Bench.  That was mind bending for me. Once the judicial system and institutions of a country are compromised or hijacked, you will no doubt end up with a disaster in your hands. Justice Ayim didn’t only expose some heavily soiled Gambian dirty laundry, he was also very much condescending. His lack of respect and even disdain for The Gambia and Gambians is mesmerizing. 

The Gambia has always been said to be corrupt, as far as I can remember. Embezzlement (aka sacha halis) was common, and at all levels. In fact, the culture almost condones it, hence the saying (haar funge ko taka moi leakuwaiyam). The Gambia is still said to be corrupt, but has now been introduced to crushing oppression and bold brutality. The oppression and brutality has deeply ingrained some serious fears in Gambians and they are constantly watching what they say, even on the phone. They think BIG BROTHER is listening. To them, The Gambia seems to be groping in the dark: chaotic, feverish and fearful, with no apparent or definable end in sight. The people of The Gambia are nervously crying and I can feel them shaking and hear their cries from 6000 miles away, especially at night, when air traffic dies down and the freeways are almost empty. Under an oppressive and intolerant regime, oppression and intolerance can easily permeate through society, and we can see it manifesting in the Gambian online forums. When “forum admins” are challenged or disagreed with, their most likely response is to hit the delete button. A couple of these forums have draconian rules dating back to ancient Athens. Censorship at its worst! Did you know that Gambians are docile? Yep! But it looks like that’s beginning to change. I see a little smoke, so let’s hope there is fire.

So what’s next for The Gambia? We claim to have so many intellectuals, but they can’t seem to agree on a single thing. Or, is it because we sometimes equate a college degree and flowery words with being an intellectual? (boy sai intellectual la deh!). According to Edward Said of Columbia University in a series of lectures called Representations of the intellectual in 1993, “an intellectual’s mission in life is to advance human freedom and knowledge. This mission often means standing outside of society and its institutions and actively disturbing the status quo”. And I don’t think The Gambia has many of these. 

I don’t have a panacea for our shortcomings, but I do have a message. To MY PEOPLE: Our beauty is deeper than makeup and our values are stronger than steel. Therefore, the onus is on us to get back to our roots and not succumb to greed and selfishness. Why can’t we all sing in harmony? It makes for a better music anyway. Together we can avoid the “societal decay cliff” we are rapidly approaching. Our values are unraveling faster than we can imagine. Don’t call me BRO then turn around and feed me to the sharks. I want to end by challenging all of us to chop down our arrogance, deflate our egos and humble ourselves. We are better than this! We should always remember the words of our national anthem before we act: 

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.

God Bless!

What happened to Banjul? – My Story

Banjul was never a beautiful city, but it had character and charm. The architecture was poor, but the atmosphere was magnificent. It was dark half the time at night (GUC), but it had a bright spirit. Banjul was fun!

During the colonial era, Banjul was relatively clean and well maintained. The Board of Health (aka bodorfell) that was set up had strict health codes that were regularly enforced. Health inspectors routinely inspected homes, and fines were handed out to those who were found to be in violation. Inspectors were general unforgiving, and that forced Waa Banjul to be on their “cleaning toes” at all times. Nervousness filled the air in every home, as home inspections drew near. Even drinking water stored in “Ndals” were inspected, and the "Kamas" too. The inspections were thorough and the sanctions were stiff. Waa Banjul definitely had a legitimate reason to be nervous.

The storm drain system built in Banjul was not the best, but it was functional and served its purpose. Smaller gutters in the streets collected water that freely flowed, and channeled it into much larger gutters. The big gutters on Grant Street, Hill Street and Kombo Street comes to mind, just to name a few. Some of these larger gutters drained into the “Tann” (like the ones on Kombo Street and Hill Street) and the rest drained into the main Pumping Station that was located on Bund Road. The storm water was then released into the river. The gutters where not fancy, but they did the job they were designed to do, as long as they were kept clean, and the Board of Health made sure of that.

 

It was around the late 70’s that Banjul started to head south. The electricity was the first victim on November 1, 1977. At this point, the British were long gone and the city was now Waa Banjul's full responsibility to manage and maintain. As the years went by, the Department of Health (formerly the Board of Health) became more and more lax in their inspections and enforcement of the health codes, and that affected the city tremendously. The gutters that use to freely carry the storm water started collecting trash (selepass bu duck, horhe mangoro, packeti cigarette, bopi jene, butale bu toch, ak njome saine). The storm water went from “freely flowing” in the gutters, to full of trash, stagnant and rising to the top. There was sporadic cleaning, but that didn't make much of a difference, Waa Banjul were already comfortable with throwing trash in the gutters at this point.  Stagnant water in the gutters became a "new normal" for Banjul in the late 70's and early 80's. The maintenance of the city's roads by PWD, was also poor at best. Don't let the rain catch you in Banjul!

With stagnant water all around Banjul, the city was now the perfect place for mosquitoes to breed, and breed they did! They took full advantage of the opportunity handed to them on a silver platter by Waa Banjul. The mosquitoes started a vigorous breeding program to build their armies, and launched nightly attacks on Waa Banjul. Overwhelmed with the invasion of mosquitoes, Waa Banjul decided to fight back by arming themselves with Baygon mosquito spray and Moon Tiger mosquito coils. The war was on! And if you were in the business of dealing arms (mosquito spray and moon tiger), you were racking in the dough. But these were not your ordinary mosquitoes; they were "The Banjul Mosquitoes". Just like the "Banjul Ndongos", they also learned how to evolve and survive when the going got tough. They strengthen their immune system and became resistant to the weapons Waa Banjul had. Baygon spray and Moon Tiger soon became like air freshener to them.  You can lock "The Banjul Mosquitoes" up in a room, empty a can of Baygon spray or smoke them up with Moon Tiger, and they will still buzz you off and stick their tongues out at you. They had Waa Banjul slapping themselves silly, in their disparate attempt to smash them out.

As Waa Banjul continued to lose significant battleground to "The Banjul Mosquitos", families were also growing and living space was shrinking. This, coupled with the constant arrival of new city dwellers from the various provinces and everywhere else, became unbearable for Waa Banjul and they began exploring the Kombos. Waa Banjul were never keen about the Kombos, but now they had no choice. Banjul was getting tighter by the day.  The kombos offered abundant space, soothing breezes and clean beaches, comforts they were not use to. It opened up a whole new horizon to them, and they never looked back. They were desperately searching for a better quality of life, which they found in the Kombos. Of course, there will always be those entrenched in the idea of "live and die" in Banjul, and you can still find them there holding their little ground. But for how long? More and more Waa Banjul are jumping on any chance to move to the Kombos, and the city has now fallen into the hands of the new comers (gans) and businesses. Most of the homes that were “down afdie" have been turned into warehouses, and the city is desolate come night fall.

Neglected for far too long, Banjul is now a "has been city" that is in dire need of a face-lift, or even reconstruction. It has lost all the glory. The lack of proper maintenance after all these decades has brought Banjul to its knees, and that was hard for me to see. I have deep roots in Banjul, for that reason, I'm extremely saddened by the city's current state. Every time I think of Banjul, an avalanche of memories comes rushing in. The streets I roamed, the friends I hanged with, the parties I attended and the list goes on. I can say, with reasonable certainty, that most Waa Banjul feel the same way I do about Banjul. A city we all love, but sad to see kneeling down. The question now is: what should be done about Banjul?

This is my story and I'm sticking to it!

The Circle of Life

Life is what you make it. A book with many chapters, that is full of endless surprises. There are no guarantees; no time outs and no do over. Be yourself, live life and don’t let the sun catch you crawling.

We all spring out of our mother’s womb kicking and screaming, and ready to take on the world and everything in it. After receiving a quick rinse, a light wipe down and wrapped into a blanket, the adrenaline from erupting into life starts to evaporate. In the comfort of our mother’s arms and pressed against her bosom, reality starts to set in and we soon realize that we are just a helpless newborn. With a stiff stare in our eyes we become paralyzed by immobility, we can’t help but rely on our parents for care. Crying becomes our only means of communication for all our needs. The sense of relief for our safe arrival, coupled with the excitement of having a baby consumes our parents, who can’t help but declare us the most adorable baby in the world. True for some, but false for others. The happiness we bring, regardless of our cuteness, becomes the glue that further holds our families together. Our cultures and traditions may sometimes determine how the gender assigned to us will be celebrated.

As we learn to be mobile and independent, our mouths become a deep pocket. Everything we find along the way in our short travels, ends up there. At this point, the destructive quality of human nature starts to surface in us. Anything in our path may fall victim to our growing curiosity as we gravitate towards objects that attract our attention. The adults in our small world are there to protect us from falling victim to all the dangers in the big world. Fires, hot water and cars in the street will be some of our parents’ worst nightmares. Parents may become chokingly protective and their child safety chart is constantly on red. Getting out of sight becomes problematic for us, as grown-ups watch us like a hawk. Watching us eat on our own gives immeasurable pleasure to them, as it is a true sign of the beginning of a child’s independence. Their duty is to ensure our safety and to mentally chronicle every event along the way. Stories will be vividly remembered and told for years to come.

The playground will be our first battlefield. Our survival skills are initially tested there. This is the place where the first hand full of dirt will be thrown in our face, when our parents look away. Usually, it is thrown by another ill-mannered toddler. When this happens, two options are available to us. One is to retaliate, and the other is to cry. The survivors will retaliate and the crybabies will need assistance. Parents will then rush in to comfort or chastise us, depending on whether we are the victim or the aggressor. Children are innocent, but can be extremely aggressive at times. This is where the fight for dominance begins. We start marking our territory, even at this early age. We will battle over swings, slides, balls and all other kinds of toys. There will be pushing, shoving, biting, scratching and lots of finger pointing. We will win some and lose some, depending on our opponent of the day. These playground battles are generally benign, but very crucial in helping develop our survival skills.

As we venture into adolescence, the real challenges in life start to emerge. We are confronted by responsibilities, peer pressure, love, romance and everything else adolescent, with love and romance being the main factors. Love is innate, acute and enhanced by romance. If you thought romance was for only the sophisticated and only took place in cafes or in front of flickering fireplaces, think again. It also happens deep in the jungles of the Amazon, where men court their women by showing off their gardening skills, and all the flowers are free. Adolescence is where it all begins. Love and romance validates us as individuals and keeps the human race going. Our quest for love and romance will lead us into the dusty, windy and slippery roads deep inside the jungle of love. Treading through the jungle of love can sometimes get very dicey; temperatures can be hot one minute, and cold the next. Constant adjustment is needed. We will have our hearts broken and we will break hearts. That’s just the nature of the beast. Our hearts yearn for love, and our souls need it. Love does not always have a happy ending, but as famously said by Alfred Lord Tennyson “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”.

Once love is found, life becomes more exciting and meaningful. Love is the prelude to marriage in most cultures, but not everyone marries for love. There are cultures that engage in arranged marriages, and these marriages are sometimes used to preserve lineage and bloodline. There are also folks who will marry someone with all the right qualities, even if they aren’t in love with the person. For them, marriage is considered too important a step to leave to chance. It carries a huge sense of responsibility, for both parties. It is also considered a monumental achievement. Little girls dream about walking down the aisle at a very early age to marry their Prince Charming, while little boys fantasize about marring a beautiful angel. It is always entered into with the spirit of “till death do us apart”, but that’s not always the case. Needless to say, marriage is one of life’s biggest gambles. A father looks forward to the day he will give away his daughter’s hand in marriage, and a mother hopes that her son will marry the perfect wife. Unless the bride and groom are already related, marriage merges their two families and make it one big family. Once a child is conceived in a marriage, DNA is passed on and The Circle of Life continues.

What does life mean to you and what do you value? Personally, I value freedom, my dignity and the ability to express myself without any fear. Even if my opinion does not count at the end of the day, I still want to be able to voice it out. I view life to be fifty percent faith and fifty percent attitude. You have to believe in something, and your attitude towards that will make the difference. The struggles and challenges we face are what give us all a story. It is not about succeeding or failing, but doing your best with the resources you have at your disposal. Try to create opportunities for yourself and take advantage of the opportunities that present themselves. Material possessions don’t fulfill a life; it is the human connections instead. After all, it is the simple things that matter; the kindness we show, the joys, laughs and smiles we share. We all deserve to live a dignified life, regardless of our social status. As humans, there will always be forces pulling us in different directions, but with humility and God, we can always get back to the center. We all carry the responsibility to leave the world a better place that we found it, and getting involved in our communities can easily be a way to achieve that. Remember to teach the children the values and virtues of life; we owe it to them. And hope that the aggressive child from the playground will grow up to understand that kindness pays better dividends than aggression, to an individual and society as a whole. Let us respect and use religion as a vehicle, and not as a weapon or dividing factor. With God’s guidance and our collective human efforts, nothing is impossible. Peace is just an arm’s length away.

My Triple Heritage

I was born and raised in Gambia, West Africa, a predominantly Muslim population, a former British colony, and a place rich in culture. Gambia is a place where the people are warm, the Atlantic coast is constantly smiling and the laughter of children always fills the air. There, no one is sheltered from the realities of life, regardless of social status. People of all faiths live in harmony. The weather is tropical and the beaches are sandy. Gambia is where memories of My Triple Heritage are peacefully resting and available at a moment’s notice, for when I feel the need to reminisce.

In Gambia, Islam is woven into the fabric of the indigenous culture and the Western influence is the stitch that holds it together. With the mixture of Western ideas, Islam and the indigenous culture, you now have a contemporary society that is complex, sophisticated and vibrant. This mixture describes a social and historical reality, but also explains the Gambian experience. It is the blend of Islam, Western ideas and indigenous culture that constitutes My Triple Heritage.

In my little over two decades of navigating the Western waters, I’ve been asked reasonable, unreasonable and flat-out stupid questions about Gambia and Africa in general. I’ve been mistaken as the son of an African dictator, one of the children in the Save the Children Foundation videos and a refugee. I’m none of the above. Others have attempted to take me for a fool, with no success. People sometimes see Africa and Africans in certain limited, pre-conditioned ways. For most, it is unconscious.

Westerners can be accommodating, not out of courtesy, but out of sympathy. They see you as a poor soul who was unlucky enough to be an African. Most have their pre-conceived notions of what an African should look and act like, based on a Discovery Channel documentary or images of Africa they’ve seen, which are generally of war, poverty and hunger. They have already categorized you. There is a big box labeled Africa, and they expect you to fit in it. Well, not I. I’m not the next African you know or Gambian for that matter. Granted, there are dictators in some African countries that are committed to bad governance which could lead to a societal decay, but the people are strong, resilient and resourceful.

It is amazing to me that there is still a lack of understanding of Africa and Africans, even though Africa has been and is still abundantly present in Western life. Africa built the West, from the labor to the raw materials. Africa is engraved in Western popular music, and heavily influences modern art. Africa has given shape to everything we understand to be “Modern” and “Urban”. Yet, with this very sense of familiarities, some Westerners still view Africa to be as distant as the furthest galaxy. Contemporary Africa is rich in culture, diverse, vibrant and unique.

There is a romantic view about Africa among many. Some are captured by Africa and either visited or hope to visit some day, because it’s their life long dream. They are fascinated by the people and the richness of culture. Others see it as a dark place and will do everything in their power to avoid going there. As for the rest, well, they are just clueless. They think Africa is a country or a state. Their view of Africa is based on nothing but ignorance. It is informed by the latest news on TV or latest celebrity baby adoption. 

The Triple Heritage I’ve been blessed with has enriched my life in ways beyond measure, and allowed me to see life from three different perspectives. I’m able to draw strength and wisdom from all three when the need arises, to maintain a good balance. My Triple Heritage has also saved me from being myopic. I feel honored and privileged to be African, and thankful for all my experiences. In my endless efforts to be green, I’ve been recycling my values and passing them on to my two girls. I don’t claim to be an intellectual, but I am not a fool either.

As we all continue to sail through the rough waters of life: respect, understanding, acceptance and appreciation are the only instruments we need. With them, no wave is too tall. We are one people, one world and there is only one God. Let’s live and learn, and learn to live.