Lers:
I have a bit of time to splurge this afternoon since I somehow managed to get
in at 5AM this morning. (laugh) Maybe due to a lack of sleep but I was wide
awake at 3:30 Am this morning.
This is a short explanation how I became a dissenter of the situation back
home. It will perhaps give a bit of insight into my view of my mother's role
in the govt and my interaction with her during this time. Hopefully, things
will be a bit clearer after this. Anyways, read on...
I first heard about the overthrow of Jawara's government while vacationing in
Cape Cod, Massachusetts. It was the tail end of an NPR show and the presenter
was discussing how Jawara's regime had become stagnant over the years. Since
Gambia was very rarely a topic of discussion of NPR, I assumed that something
had happened. What it was exactly I did not know. But just like many times
in the past my perception sensed something was wrong. My next course of
action was to call home. My late father (RIP) picked up the phone and told me
there was indeed a coup d'etat but everything was fine and the transition had
been smooth. My initial reaction was well change is good. I also agreed with
the last part of the NPR discussion about how The Gambia had been stagnant
under the old regime.
Worried about the safety of my family, I called again a few days later and
again talked to my father. His initial words were: "Well the soldiers just
came to the house. To which, I responded: "Why?." He replied: "Well, they
want your mother to work for them in the capacity of minister of education
and we really have no choice but to accept." Not that I could in anyway have
changed their decision, but I figured it was a new government and given a
chance this government was perhaps capable of reversing the dismal situation
back home.
Unpeturbed, I returned to my normal everyday life in Boston and for a while,
about a year precisely, everything seemed fine and rosy back home. During
this period, I was unaware of some of the assassinations and atrocities that
had taken place. To be honest, I was caught up in my own grand style of life
and was not in touch with my family as much I should have been, actions that
I would eventually rue. But that's another story!
It was not till around the time my father passed away, when I ventured to my
favorite newspaper store in Harvard Square, Out Of Town News, to pick up a
copy of New African magazine, West Africa and also browse some of my favorite
soccer magazines. I am sure most of us are familiar with some of these
papers. A headline titled: "The Gambia's missing millions" on the cover of
New African caught my attention. Up to this point I had never even seen a
picture of Yahya Jammeh, testament to my out of touch status with issues back
home. Yet, there he was donned in sultan robes, holding a staff and I
believe heaps of gold chains around his neck. I was slightly amused at the
sight of this character donned in bizarre robes even by Gambian standards.
Obviously, this character was taking the "Khaftan" and "Chaya" to a whole new
level. Since my curiosity was so piqued, I stood side by side with all the
other Africans who were at that particular stand for the same reason as me,
and started reading the paper right at the stand even though too much
browsing was frowned upon by the store owners.
The article relating to the headline was about the Ebou Jallow fiasco and the
sordid details which surrounded it. To be honest, I had heard from someone
about how Ebou, an ex-schoolmate of mine at Saints, had absconded with a few
million Dollars. Again, because of my involvement in other more pressing
issues and because details about it were so vague, I had paid little heed to
my source. I believe the second article on the Gambia related page dealt
with Koro Ceesay's assassination. Reading this article was akin to someone
pouring cold water on me after I had passed out in a drunken slumber. It was
a sobering dose of reality not to mention my shock at these startling
revelations.
I bought the paper after reading the article and from that day on, I embarked
on my own crusade to find the real story, for since my young days, I had
become a political being, always listening to the BBC on short-wave radio as
well as reading West Africa and other magazines just to get a sense of what
was going on in the World. So my personal convictions about how a government
should run a country were set in stone. I believed the principles of
fairness and democracy had to be applied by any government to the citizens of
any particular country. It was the standard I would use to judge this new
government.
My cousin moved from Baltimore to live with me in Boston a few months after
this and because he had been home the previous summer, I started to press him
about what was really going on. He assured me that everything was well and
the new regime was one with potential. He told me about how much
infrastructure had been developed in the two years or so the regime was in
power. He assured me that more developments had been made than in the
previous regime's 20 + years or so of rule. I still was not convinced and
did everything in my power to learn more about events back home. My
conclusion? I was far from convinced. As a matter of fact, I was extremely
skeptical and suspicious of the true intentions of this regime.
It was also around this time when my calls increased to my house. I queried
everyone including my mother about what they knew about what New African and
West Africa magazines were reporting. There was a general reluctance to
divulge any facts over the phone. This left me in a bit of a quandary again
but I had also heard from the grapevine that phones were tapped. In this
light, their reluctance to divulge facts was understandable. Nevertheless,
the general impression my mother gave me was she worked in the capacity of
minister of education, and thus her role was to improve this particular
aspect of the country. While I agreed that this was a noble aspiration, I
still remained skeptical of the government but not her own role in the
education sector because I was perfectly sure of her abilities to handle such
a job if conditions were right.
In lieu of the fact that information was sparse, I started to do my research
on the new regime and preached to everyone who would listen about the
problems I had with it and those which our country would face if this
continued. Months passed and I would occasionally talk to her in Zurich,
Base, London, etc., etc. I was happy she was traveling and seeing the World.
After almost 30 years of dedication to education and Gambia High School, she
was deserved of her position in my opinion. I was still skeptical of the
government but as long as she was making a difference in her job and enjoying
it too it was in her best interests to remain in the position in the meantime
anyway.
Then out of nowhere came her resignation due to medical reasons. I had gone
into hibernation, again caught up in my own lifestyle. Upon my return from a
trip to San Francisco, I learned she had resigned. Again, another dose of
cold reality. She said age was catching up to her and the body was just not
up to the physical demands which the job required. I figured, though she
never told me, that perhaps there was another side to the story. But I never
pressed for more information for I always believed she would do the right
thing at the right time. I was also very relieved simply because she had
quit working for a government which I never agreed with.
I moved to Arizona in the summer of 1998 to work with AOL and upon getting an
Internet account, I subscribed to the L. I was delighted because this was a
place where I found many people who shared my convictions about the
government. Well, folks, here I am today in a position where I have come
full circle from being a vociferous opponent of the regime to telling my side
of the story because my mother worked for the regime. But such is life! We
have to roll with the punches!
Thanks For Reading!
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