Dad, I'm not sure what the entire story is about cos you know Rene; he refuses to give us hints. Anyway the bulk of what he has shared so far has educated me on PDOIS' humble beginnings. I hate to predict what's in Rene's mind. I'll accompany him though appreciatively. BTW, did you check out the winter ware at the Organising for America store? There is a story of the La-Guinea idiots consuming each other before the UN investigative commission renders its verdict. Karim are you following too?? Let the kids at Pambazuka enjoy themselves for a minute. Stay with me Karim. I'm the real friggin deal my man. Haruna. later guys.
-----Original Message-----
From: Modou Nyang <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: Thu, Dec 3, 2009 9:54 pm
Subject: Re: The Story Of Mam Biram cont'd
My Uncle, so the story of this emerging Mam Biram is that of PDOIS?
--- On Thu, 12/3/09, Haruna Darbo <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
From: Haruna Darbo <[log in to unmask]>
Subject: Re: The Story Of Mam Biram cont'd
To: [log in to unmask]
Date: Thursday, December 3, 2009, 8:45 PM
Thanx Rene for sharing the story of PDOIS. It did have humble beginnings but a beginning of conviction and clairvoyance. We appreciate you. I look forward to more. Haruna.
-----Original Message-----
From: [log in to unmask]
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: Thu, Dec 3, 2009 9:30 am
Subject: Re: The Story Of Mam Biram cont'd
Mamburay was a linguist and as seasoned educator at the education department. He was involved with developing the schools curriculum for the department, and was well respected as a leading voice in encouraging the introduction of local languages in schools. He had recently resigned from his position in the government, and had committed himself to work vigorously with others in the group.
Mamburay's letter of resignation from the services of the government, which had been made public and distributed widely, touted his humble background from one of the poorest areas in the country. Regardless, he had demonstrated a scholastic aptitude which saw him earned degrees in the best institutions in the West. He had come home to the notion of building a nation, nation building, only to realize that it was a charade that didn't match up to its stated objectives. He had persistently fought through the systemic bureaucracy, only to meet its intolerant and impervious attitude to stifle change. He had reached the point where his principles were in conflict with the government that he served. His resignation had aroused some misgivings; while some supported him, others chastised him for giving up all the opportunity and promise in his job, for an elusive idealism.
"This indeed is a historical gathering," Mam Biram said.
Mam Biram was of medium height and not heavily built. He spoke with a very strong emphasis that carried the weight, and import of what he wanted to say. His voice was deep, and he had a tendency to talk a lot. He also had a penchant for being too voluminous in his writings. He defended his positions and beliefs with vigor, and had an unrestrained ability to be candid and forthright without being apologetic. He took great interest and pride in engaging others in polemics.
"For the first time in the history of our republic," Mam Biram continued, "the people in this group would make it their task to broaden the minds of the people, so that they can become the masters of their own destiny. We will explain to the people what a sovereign republic is. We will explain to the people why a constitution gives them the power to elect their own representatives. We will explain the system of taxation, and give concrete details as to how it works. We will explain why the people are paying more taxes yet their needs and aspirations are not met. We will try and reach the Gambian people and inform them about the causes of the poverty in the country; why they are powerless, and the ways in which these deficiencies can be combated.
"We are going to introduce a new kind of politics; a politics that enlightens the people. The fundamental task before us is to create a political party that will grow from being owned by a few people, to a party that will be owned by the vast majority of the Gambian people, who wants to live in dignity, liberty and prosperity. At the moment all the political parties are relying on the same system to generate support for their programs. They try to gain the support of the people by raising funds and they mobilize the opinion leaders to help them gain the support of the people. But the truth is, the government is always in a better position to raise more funds; the government has the resources to mobilize more opinion leaders and more people, thus making it very difficult for any political party to be able to compete. In order to be able to compete our politics has to be different. We have to evolve a new kind of tactics and a new kind of strategy."
"We also have to be able to finance our own activities and programs," Mamburay asserted. "We are going to engage in a long and protracted struggle that can take one's lifetime, and we are not even sure if our achievements can happen during our lifetime. But we can be assured with the belief that we can be survived by our deeds, which hopefully will live after us."
A draft manifesto was presented, argued and debated thoroughly, and finally accepted. A political party was going to be formed and would be made public. An election took place to elect those who would start the management of the new party immediately. Mam Biram was elected as secretary general of the new party; Sambujang was elected as secretary of the information bureau; Mamburay was elected as the chairperson and Aunty Jorjoh, Sambujang's wife, was elected as secretary to women and child affairs. These people were to be the faces of the new party.
Aunty Jorjoh was among a handful of women in attendance, and had followed the footsteps of her older brother who was deeply involved in the politics of the late sixties and early seventies. She was a gender activist and an educator, and had suffered the indignities of prison life when she was incarcerated at the Mile Two prisons along with his husband, and his colleague Mam Biram. She was incarcerated at a time when she was nursing a ten months old baby.
After the formation of the new political party, there was a series of open rallies the first of which was organized at latriknda Yiringaya. The second was held in Banjul.
The participants at the meeting dispersed as silently as they arrived. The brown cement block building hidden behind the cluster of palm trees, became as serene as the beautiful green foliage that surrounded it. The birds chirped high up in the trees, and the rays of the sun were a golden hue as it descended steadily on the horizon. The night sneaked in surreptitiously.
*
It was a beautiful day. The afternoon sun was mild in its intensity. A cool breeze blew across the wide expanse of sandy soil. The gathering around the meeting place was getting bigger and bigger. A cluster of young people, mostly students and teachers, stood in small groups talking animatedly. The atmosphere of excitement and curiosity was exhilarating. Some people came to hear for the first time what they had been reading in a clandestine newsletter, and purported to have been distributed by the people organizing the meeting. The clandestine newsletter strangely appeared in public places; it evoked a political awakening and consciousness among the young people, and caused a great degree of alarm and consternation in the higher echelon of the political establishment.
There were four giant speakers placed strategically in the four corners of the open rectangular sandy space, in front of the magnificent mosque building in Latrikunda. A flurry of patriotic songs, accompanied by a melodious piano and rhythmic guitar, boomed aloud from the four giant speakers. Little children were running around the open space wrestling each other. Elderly people sat in front of their compounds waiting eagerly to hear what this meeting was all about. Some people stood inconspicuously around the vicinity of the meeting place to avoid being seen. While others went about their normal business as if nothing was taking place right in front of their eyes.
"Gal gang chi rebi, gal gang chi rebi
alek chi suba tell di nen dem Congo
ay suma haret nu ki len tay nku
alek chi suba tell di nen dem Congo
De nken am kenen, de nken am kenen
wande nu mel ne njun njefa Banjul."
The above song with a beautiful cadence blasted from the huge speakers, and interspersed with the deep voice of Mam Biram.
"We are not going anywhere
this also is our country
we all have a role to play in it.
We are not going anywhere
this also is our country
we will stay and contribute our part."
Mam Biram, Sambujang and Mamburay stood in a circle near the podium and talked in whispers. Aunty Jorjoh later joined in the discussion. Thereafter, she proceeded to the podium and adjusted the microphone.
"Allou, Allou, Allou. Suma ye mboka," Aunty Jorjoh began. The noise around the gathering place suddenly subsided and everyone was listening intently.
"We have come here today to have a chat. We want to talk to you about the country that we all belong and love. A lot of things have been going on; our children are leaving school without having jobs. The rains are here and our farmers do not have the fertilizers to put on the soil. The government has promised to help them, but the cooperative union still cannot make this available to them.
"Look at our people; they are not having enough of the nutrients that they need to make their bodies healthy and immune to disease. When the women go to the market, they spent the greater part of the morning haggling with vendors for cheaper bargains. People can no longer afford to buy meat and bone; they can no longer afford to buy good fish, and have to rely heavily on kobo day in and day out. Even then Kobo is getting to be beyond the reach of some; that is why if they tell you that you have the patience of a kobo, you really do have patience. Kobo has survived from being a bunch for few bututs to now two or three for many dalasis.
"We want to talk about more important things like our economy, why we see the need to form a political party, and what we can do if you give us your vote to form a new government. To talk about all these things, I now have the pleasure to introduce to you your son, your brother, your uncle and your good friend Mam Biram."
There was a rapturous applause as Mam Biram walked to the podium. He was dressed in a light blue pants and a gold embroidered frock with a pair brown slippers.
Rene
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