Kansalla Night Club

I went back to my old neighborhood for a visit, and memories of the Kansalla Night Club came flooding in. Not sure when it initially opened or when it finally closed for good, but it was a place frequented by many and a part of my childhood memories. It was located at the heart of Bakau Sanchaba (sunge junction) rights next to a bodofel ak jayeakayi karinge. Only Bakau can pull such - a Night Club right next to a bodofel ak jaiyeakayi karinge! Kansalla was the spot for many years. The action would start later in the evening (borri timiss), and culminate at dawn (njale), almost on a daily basis. The music and the drama went hand in hand. There was never a dull moment at Kansalla

The evenings prepared the nights with a host of Bob Marley songs prior to the club opening its doors. Right around timiss was when you would first hear Bob Marley’s voice shooting out of the massive speakers, and the sound of reggae music, clapping like thunder. Songs like Kaya Now, Natural Mystic and Buffalo Soldier. “Got to have kaya now, when the rain is falling.” And when the rain was falling in Bakau, you can bet your lunch that they were having Kaya at Kansalla. It was all part of the natural mystique that made Kansalla the spot I guess!

The music could always be heard all around the neighborhood, and you can always catch me singing along and learning the lyrics of Bob Marley’s songs. Once the doors were open, we would usually sit at the junction to get a glimpse of the patrons going in and out. They generally go in sober, but come out drunk. We witnessed many fights there, bunti Kansalla. “Sa nagam tani ndey man, yow nga hammeh maladey pejeh beer 🍺.” Boy bayil nonu man, sai sa friend la, bulko torpa.” These were some of the things we heard at Kansalla fight scenes. Drunks fighting and other drunks attempting to intervene and break up the fight, absolute entertainment! 

Obviously, kids were not allowed to enter the Night Club, but I somehow found myself inside Kansalla a few times while the patrons were grooving and getting hit by the jumping lights. Not sure if I was sent in there to call someone or sent by a patron to buy cigarettes for them, but I remember being inside and wishing I was old enough to go clubbing, without the “drinking and smoking” part. I too wanted to be hit by jumping lights. So at form two in High School rek, ma topator pass dem Tropican Night Club and got hit by the jumping lights there while grooving on the dance floor. I ran into my uncle fofu, and he said to me “Hai Modou Ndow! Yow loy deff fee? Dinako wah sa Papa!” Not sure if he did or not, but I never heard from dad regarding the incident. Sorry, I digress, back to Kansalla! 

Kansalla was also rented out for private events at times, and these included renting it out to High Schools (for their passing out event) and other people who wanted to have a private party. The club was also frequented by tourist, and with that came some level of prostitution too. Kansalla was action packed, you name it, it was happening there. If my memory serves me right, there was a fight that resulted to a murder there. Stabbing! 

Kansalla Night Club was owned by Tiger, and he was the man. With any level of success in Gambia, then and now, comes with group bi dogo dogo kats, and Tiger had plenty. The siboru ak dogo dogo culture in Gambia is real and has been around as far as I can remember. Tiger had loads of people around him, and they ran his errands in exchange for whatever favors they were able to get from him. “Yes Sir, Yes Sir”, just like we heard Rambo Jatta say to Goloh! Because Tiger lived at Kansalla and also had rental motorcycles, his boys were always there hanging out, even when the club was closed. Tiger’s living quarters was attached to Kansalla. Sayor rombey, guy yangee tork si bitti di hang! 

When we heard a loud vroom vroom, we always knew neh Tiger was about to ride his big motorcycle, and we would run out to watch. His personal motorbike was different from the rental ones, and he was a fantastic rider! He used to race with another good rider (whose name I can’t remember for the life of me), and we used to go watch them around Cape Point. Of course, I always picked Tiger as my winner! 

I am not certain how and why, but we just woke up one day and Kansalla was gone for good. I guess it ran its course, and it all happened under my young watchful eyes, and now part of my childhood memories. The bodofel ak jayeakayi karinge are long gone, but Kansalla still stands. It is now a Casino!

Human Trafficking

Human Trafficking is a crime everywhere and the “back way” business is just that – a crime against humanity! It is organized crime and it is time the Gambian Government take this crime seriously! How many lives have been lost through the “back way”? When will this be taken for the serious crime against humanity that it is?

Picture courtesy of Murcia Today

Those operating these Human Trafficking Rings should be arrested and charged for endangering lives and the death of those who perished at sea. It seems like nothing is a big deal to us and we keep saying “Yalla morko dogal”, but beh kange? We have romanticized this “back way” phenomenon, and it’s consuming our youths. You hear people say “suma dom bi dafa buga dem back way”, “kee demna back way last week”, or “mann passi back way rek mormafi tek”, as if “back way” is an ideal thing to do. It really beats me!

Of late, there has been a hike in “back way” action in the Niumi area, especially in Barra. The boats have been departing from Jinack Island and the fee is D35, 000. The human Trafficking Rings will collect as much money as they can, and fill up the boats way beyond their capacity. Even at capacity, these “Gali Serer’s) are not meant for such a journey, let alone ten times their capacity. These journeys are a deadly arrangement from the onset and a serious crime against humanity. I live 6, 415 mile away from Gambia, yet I am aware of these criminal transactions. So how come the Government is not cracking down on these criminal enterprises?

This latest uptick has also generated self-pressure on other parents to try purr lejanteh pass for their kids to take the “back way” too, since all the other kids are going. Just on Monday, I had a conversation with a relative who was solicited for passi “back way” regarding the extreme danger to the lives of these kids, with such a risky journey. The D35, 000 has been collected, and now 58 are dead and gone for good. If the D35,000 was borrowed, it is still owed. And tomorrow the Human Trafficking Rings will resume business as usual. Unless we stop romanticizing the “back way” and the government gets serious about stopping it, we will keep waking up to such tragedies!

The Devil is Narcissistic And A Liar

Edward Singhateh Testifying at TRRC

Too many witnesses spoke about the devil, and too many witnesses said the devil did it. Edward Singhateh’s name was called a million times and he was also implicated in a million incidents. Since the TRRC started, the name Edward Singhateh has been echoed like a champion – witness upon witness, testimony upon testimony! Essentially, all roads led to Edward Singhateh Avenue, and we are finally there. Edward came because there is no place to hide and he had no choice, not because he’s a nice murderer who wanted to do the right thing by appearing on his own accord. The heat was too much, so he had to leave the kitchen and show up! By appearing at the TRRC, Edward did not do anyone a favor, rather, he was just trying to save a face that he doesn’t have. The TRRC had become a lying fest, and Edward was not going to be any different. The standard had already been set and maintained.

It is perfectly fine for a murderer to be funny, but it is terribly bad for a murderer to try to make jokes while being questioned about their crimes. Edward didn’t need ice because he was sitting in the hot a seat, he needed ice because he’s a cold blooded murderer who needed to keep his blood cold. He came with a strategy to deny and deflect, and see what would stick. If he was going to go down, he wanted to look cute in the process. So instead of having an accused murderer to answer questions about their alleged crimes, we had a lawyer attempting to defend himself and being a perfect fool for doing so.

The entire session was about Edward and his audience. He wanted to look smart and was constantly worried about those who are watching him. He wanted to endlessly clarify and contextualize because he didn’t want those watching him to think of him in a certain way. He wanted to be seen as polished and thoughtful, but he came across as calculating and manipulative. Anything that made him look good in the eyes of the audience, he basked in it and owned it. Accept all general responsibility (because it’s less severe) and flatly deny all direct responsibility (because it’s more severe), regardless of the mountain of evidence presented. This is exactly the type of foolery that happens when a lawyer tries to represent himself or herself, you are unable to emotionally separate yourself and take a critical look at the evidence. If ten witnesses who all know you said they saw you commit a crime and you are the only one who said it didn’t happen, then you are lying. This is a reasonable conclusion anywhere.

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Edward told us that Goloh is the type of kufang coward who would say “bailen ma ma hehh, y sorko bayey du hehh.” But it’s the same Edward, who told us in the Janneh Commission that Goloh took some of his portfolio away from him when he was a minister because he objected to Goloh’s release of a captured ship that was illegally fishing in the Gambian waters. After taking his portfolios away, he also said he was unable to get Goloh’s audience. He also said lots of other things that indicated that he was scared of Goloh! Basically, Edward was scared of the same coward he painted Goloh to be. When a coward is scared of another coward!

Edward denied beating or speaking to anyone when they went to Mile 2 Prison at that ungodly hour. He said no hour is ungodly and that God made all hours. Well, God also made all human life, but Edward serially ended some. A preaching murderer! Edward repeatedly said that they were “young and angry”, but he expects us to believe that he went to Mile 2 Prison at an ungodly hour as a “young and angry” soldier who just found himself at the helm of power (in Africa) to interrogate other officers, and he didn’t beat or speak to anyone? To add insult to injury, all his victims said he beat the daylights out of them too, and he said “it wasn’t me.”

According to Edward, these were not normal times and he is perfectly right about that. But somehow, he (Edward) the “young and angry” soldier was the only lucid person in the lot, and everyone else was wild and crazy and he tried to bring sanity. Goloh was wild, Sana Sabally was wild, and so were all the other officers that did the beating and shooting. Anything that was going to directly implicate him, he did not recall because it was so long ago. But for some weird reason, Edward recalled their takeover of Yundum and Fajara Barracks and narrated them perfectly. He told us how he led the storming crew at Yundum Barracks and effortlessly took it over. He also perfectly narrated the Fajara barracks takeover and how he threw a grenade on the left side of the room to distract the subject, and then attacked him from the left side and captured him without a hitch.

But why did Edward recall these events so vividly and narrated them perfectly? Because they made Edward look good as a military man who excelled in what he was trained to do. Oh, and Edward also told us that he is a marksman and can take anyone out if he wants to kill, and he still holds the record in the GNA. Yep, the perfect soldier who later studied law and was never directly involved in shooting or torturing anyone as a “young and wild’ soldier who found himself at the wheel of power after staging a coup! The show was all about Edward Singhateh looking good as a soldier and a sophisticated fool of a lawyer attempting to defend himself from “manufactured” accusations.

Finally, we were now at the climax of it all, Koro Ceesay’s murder – the who done it! Right off the bat, Edward’s demeanor changed and his confidence level went down. He was folding his hands at times and periodically releasing some heavy sighs. He was less comfortable and not as confrontational, and he sounded more obedient. Guilt has a way of suffocating the conscience, and you can visibly see how smoking hot the chair was. With a significantly declined comfort level, Edward kept adjusting his body as if he was sitting on pins and needles, which was actually the case at that point. The only time that changed, was when Kanyi’s testimony was played. He became agitated and viciously wet after Kanyi. Clearly, there is something more between Edward and Kanyi (a man Edward claims not to know) that meets the eye! Then to cap it all off, Edward felt offended by being portrayed as a liar by Lead Counsel. Hello!

What Gina Needs

Gina Bass Wins 200m Gold at African Games in Rabat, 2019

We all watched Gina Bass compete on the world stage and beamed with pride, despite the limited resources in Gambian sports. With virtually everything in Gambia chaotic at the moment, Gina’s performance gave us something to all celebrate. We all wanted her to take the gold medal and give us that temporary fix as we continue to search for a ray of hope amid all the chaos! 

Given her raw talent and tremendous effort to make it on the world stage, Gina’s potential is yet to be fully tapped. There is more in her that needs to be unlocked and in my humble opinion, a track and field scholarship to the United States would be her best bet. In sports, environment matters greatly, and is very crucial in your mental and physical training. The better and more nurturing the environment, the more you will excel. 

Most colleges in the United States that are participating in the NAACA already have proven track and field programs in place, and what Gina needs is a “proven program” that will propel her to the next level, and I don’t think such program exists in The Gambia. Gina needs to be around athletes that are equally talented or better to motivate and challenge her on a daily basis, not athletes that she is better than by a mile. 

The Jamaicans are known for running, but most of their runners come to the United States to attend college here and be part of the college track and field programs to enhance their skills. They go out and represent Jamaica from here and beat their American counterparts, they are in these programs with. This is also the case for runners from Trinidad and many other countries that have the raw talent, but doesn’t have a full-fledged program to nurture and grow that talent. 

Gambia is not ready yet and wouldn’t be for a while, given the chaos, so Gina’s best bet is to try to place herself in a much better sporting environment that will help her grow to realize her full potential. She can always represent Gambia around the world from here, just like the Jamaicans and everyone else. So for those who are in the college system in the United States, try and see how you can recommend Gina for a scholarship for her to finally have a chance to be in the right environment that will take her to the next level and bring us our Gold. Gambia is struggling to provide the most basic needs, and an environment that would allow Gina to reach her potential is a luxury beyond her reach as a country.

Zoo Keeper

We didn’t have any pets at ‪64 Dubson street when I lived in Banjul. In fact, not very many compounds there had pets because of the city setting I guess. Banjul dafa hatt and the compounds were generally “family compounds”, with everyone and their mama living there – aunts, uncles, yumpanges, you name it. However, a good number of Kerr Aku yee had dogs purr sacha kat yee, so you better not jump over their fences trying to steal something! You will receive a good bite from Rocky, he’s brown and big.

What we had at ‪64 Dubson street were stray cats, lots of them at times too! They would just show up out of nowhere, and if they found the women sleeping on the wheel while cleaning fish (wass jenn), they would snatch the fish and walk away – di yayngal genn nak dem sen yon! Every time you heard one of the women scream out “woye suma ndey, mussi domi haram bi yobu na suma jenn bi”, you knew exactly what happened! Depending on that family’s situation, they may not torga ange and will have to rely on neighbors that day, for when they call out “kai len nyu ange!”

  

That reality virtually changed when I moved to Bakau. The compounds were bigger, the place was much breezier, and we had pets/animals –  a few too. We had Jamba Jobe, Goloh, Kanara, Ganarr, Jaysit, Mbonatt, and some stray cats fofu tam. It was like a Zoo there! Somehow, I guess by default, I ended up being the Zoo Keeper. I used to clean the ponds that were constructed for the Kanaras and the Jaysit/Mbonatt, and refresh the water every so often. I don’t remember what the maintenance schedule was sah, it’s been so long. All I remember is that Papa (my uncle/torma..may his soul continue to rest in peace) would say “Modou Ndow clean ndohi Jaysit bi jotna deh.” I was also called upon when the Jamba Jobe and Goloh escaped and started terrorizing the neighborhood.

The Jamba Jobe would usually leave and hit the streets when the bunti kerr was open and start running after people, or people would start running for the hills when they see it approaching, di yuhu nak – woyaiyoye, woye suma ndey! For the most part, it generally stayed on our street and doesn’t go far. Occasionally, though, the Jamba Jobe would leave our street and venture into yoni marrseh. Now that’s a fun sight to see, especially if it happens to be sometime in the morning when women are on their way to marrseh or coming back from marrseh. They would all start jetting at the sight of the Jamba Jobe forcing it to react and chase them. With their panyeh marrseh in hand, they would be screaming and looking to run into the nearest compound and some would spill the contents of their panyeh marrseh in the process – my hahatie rek nak! Once I was able to compose myself, I would then guide the Jamba Jobe back  home. Also, since the Jamba Jobe was such an exotic bird, some Bakau bumsters used to bring their Toubab tourist friends to our compound and show them the Jamba Jobe purr nyu natal koh.

Goloh (aka Bubu), became my buddy and I used to prepared his chop for him, it was usually ndeysitti ange or ma hossal koh keme. We had banana trees in the compound, but that was for us, not for Bubu. Doff rek! Bubu and I bonded well, and every time he escaped and started di display in the neighborhood, they would send someone to go find me, where ever I was. I could be at Jaiteh Kunda (JK) hanging or at the park wala Bakau School playing World Cup, and all of a sudden would hear “Mod Ndow, Bubu raychana deh!”. That’s when I would drop everything and run home to save the day.

The scene was always chaotic upon arrival with people running, screaming and pointing me to where Bubu was or last seen. “Bubu mungsi kerr Njago yee”, “Bubu mungsi kaw guyi sorance bi” wala “Bubu mungee nangam kunda.” Once I was able to ascertain exactly where Bubu was, that’s when the negotiations will commence. One thing was certain, regardless of how naughty Bubu was acting, he would immediately chill when I show up. I would then start coaxing him to come to me, and depending on how agitated he was, it can take a while sometimes. But as soon as he gets close to me, I would grab his tail and spin him around until he became fully dizzy, then gently carry him over to his post and chain him up again. Then Bubu would just sit there as if nothing ever happened, feyka tass na dayka beh tork!

After several years with Bubu, he fell ill from a wound he suffered on the left side of his waist. I became his doctor and would treat his wound by cleaning it every few days and applied some medication. He was a good patient too. But because the wound was in a critical place at his waist and were it was constantly being irritated by the chain on his waist, the wound was never able to heal. Bubu eventually succumbed and took his last breath in my arms. If I remember correctly, this must have been around when I was in form one or form two, and it was emotional. Bubu was my Bubu!

The Jamba Jobe I believe lived for about 40 years or so, and died not too long ago. Kanara ak ganarr yee nyome chop neng len bu yaga! As for the Jaysit ak Mbonatt, I don’t know what happened to them, but I am counting on sunge wa kerr to tell me.

When Gambia was nice! Now what pets/animals did you have at home growing up?

Sana Sabally In Perspective

Young Sanna Sabally. Picture 

courtesy of the Fatu Network 

Sanna Sabally took responsibility, but he basically blamed his actions on age, he was 27 years old at the time. I am not sure what people should be doing at 27 years of age, but I bet killing and terrorizing people would be considered extremely abnormal and inexcusable anywhere in the world for a 27 year old to be proudly engaged in, regardless! Not only was Sanna engaged in such horrific actions, he continually tried to justify them all through his testimony!

To try to accomplish his goal of justifying his brutal actions, Sanna constantly painted a picture of war/battle, where one has to kill the enemy at all cost, including those who were captured and tied. In addition, Sanna also continually attempted trashing the Geneva Convention at every chance and even called it “shit” at one point today.

In his efforts to further double down on his trashing of the Geneva Convention, Sanna probably went home yesterday after being challenged by the commission’s chairman who expressed disappointment in his ridiculous bashing of the Geneva Convention and did some quick research, to try to clarify his position. So he returned today with the story of when the Emperor caught some enemy soldiers trying to scale the wall in Geneva in the sixteen hundreds and hanged them.

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In Sanna’s mind, the Geneva Convention, which was negotiated in the aftermath of the Second World War in 1949, was “shit” because of an event that happened in Geneva in the sixteen hundreds. But it was that same “shit” of a “Geneva Convention” that rescued him and gave him the chance to relocate to Germany and realized his dream of being in the medical field. In essence, the Geneva Convention is “shit” when Sanna Sabally is the law, but golden when Sanna Sabally became victim!

Sanna told us that he came to the TRRC to tell the truth about his role, but the truth was already established by multiple witnesses, and Sanna only came to corroborate that “truth” and accepted responsibility. According to him, he was not going to lie because others who were there under his command knew what happened. He also told us that when he sees people beating their chest claiming to have kicked Goloh out (including the President), dafdey hahatie beh halangu. But it’s the same Sanna who sat there beating his chest about how he is not scared of anyone and will take a bullet in the chest any day. How ironic!

Let’s not forget that Sanna is now a professionally trained counselor in Germany; and what do counselors do? – they work with the mind and know how the mind works, so he came well prepared. He’s had years to be prepared for this day because he knew it was coming. His every statement was calculated, and his every defense reinforced, including the trashing of the Geneva Convention and the Junta’s right to take over the government at the time, despite the illegality of their actions.

In his closing remarks, Sanna pleaded with the TRRC and the current government to intervene because the German project his was working on in Senegal was halted by the German authorities, and offered his psychotherapy service free of charge to his victims. Did the German authorities halt the project when “shit” hit the fan and they became aware of Sanna’s crimes? With the Holocaust in their past and the human rights violations that happened there, the last thing the Germans want is to associate  themselves with such crimes, they will quickly distance themselves from it. And with Sanna’s offer of psychotherapy free of charge, it is nothing but a case of “ma reye la beh parey jaleh la”, something the Junta was good at.

In conclusion, Sanna was a 27-year-old who thought it was justified to stage a military coup to correct the corruption, and part of that correction was to kill, torture, and abuse citizens. And also once in a while, find nurses who skipped work and went to their boyfriend’s houses, knock on the door (pam pam), tell them that you were Chairman Sabally, and dragged them back to work. Waiting for them to show up to work was not an option. Throughout his testimony, Sanna talked about forgiveness and reconciliation, but he forgot to mention justice. Yes Sanna came voluntarily to tell the truth that was already established, but telling the truth doesn’t exonerate anyone from the crime of murder, and that’s why there is no statute of limitation for murder. Let justice guide our actions!

PS: Sanna wants Gambians to know the truth and judge for themselves, so I did just that.

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.