Gyant DaMidget Yinkers Along
By Baba Galleh Jallow
Second Genamin Gyant DaMidget was a perpetually confused and angry guy. Thinking himself on top of the world, he was perpetually baffled and irritated that he felt so small and insignificant. In spite of his oily face, his imaginary goatee, his pious utterances, his monkey skull and his giant boubous, Gyant DaMidget could just not bring himself to feel equal to the world. This fact annoyed and confused him to no end and led him into a constant verbal rampage against imaginary enemies and a futile search for magic formulas that could help alleviate his distress.  His anger was so painful that he habitually used insulting words and very bad language on national media that even a child would be ashamed of using. So it was that when he first heard of the nice-ringing word yinkering, Gyant DaMidget’s face glowed with excitement at the prospect of adding it to his arsenal of fighting words and putting it into practice in his miserable life. This had to be the elusive magic formula that would lead him unto himself, that would absolve him in the eyes of the world, and that would become the nest for the intellectual egg he had been trying to lay for so long.
Thus smitten with the famous term, Gyant DaMidget now took special breaks in his special room for some daily yinkering. Armed with his note pad and golden pen – the one he got from the corrupt Asian tycoon, Gyant DaMidget would sit on his large sofa and happily yinker away. He would raise his eyes up to heaven, his gaze penetrating the roof and hitting the skies above, a thoughtful twist on his mountain nose. His large hot dog lips pursed and his wooden brow squeezed into giant ridges, Gyant DaMidget would cast his eyes to the concrete floor, drilling two holes with his gaze into the mysterious depths of the earth. Then he would straighten up and write on his pad, ‘yes yinkering; so what is yinkering? But is it not the same that one yinkers or not? As far as I am concerned no one will come here and tell me about yinker rights this and yinker rights that. They had four hundred years of yinkering and all they left us was one school and one hospital and their stupid English language. And now they want to tell me about yinkering.’ Gyant DaMidget anger always exploded at the thought of these impudent western colonialists who poked their long noses into his personal business. He would gnash his teeth and vigorously shake his head at the monstrous cheek of these so-called yinkerers. Sometimes, he would slap himself and smash his pad on the floor only to pick it up and resume his precious yinkering. But when he thought that in yinkering he had found a formula that seems to be working just fine. Gyant DaMidget would broadly beam again in his bossy style and peer straight at a corner of the room, his neck slightly extended forward. He would reach out with his free hand and gently stroke his imaginary goatee and he would shift the position of his pious cap a little on his rugged head. Then after a long, hard stare out the window, he would gleefully resume writing on his pad. He was so happy he could do this as his golden pen ran shakily across the page, recording DaMidget’s yinkering in his badly zigzagged hand writing. Sometimes his ws looked like ks, his bs looked like ds and his ns looked like hs, but he wrote his yinkering thoughts anyways. If anybody thought they could tell him what to do in his own country then they must be yinkering and they can go to hell.
‘And so what is all this talk about yinkering this and yinkering that?’ DaMidget would write in his pad. ‘When I do some of the things I do, they say Gyant DaMidget is yinkering. When I say some of the things I say, they say Gyant DaMidget is yinkering. When I say the West can go to hell, they say Gyant DaMidget is yinkering. When I sack my own personal officials, they say Gyant DaMidget is yinkering. But I Gyant DaMidget do not give a damn what they say. That is the question they should ask themselves before they come yinkering with their so-called rights this and rights that. I also have my own rights and no one will tell me yinker this or yinker that.’ Gyant DaMidget always started getting angry again at this thought. The more he thought about the fact that all they could build in four hundred years was one school and one hospital, that all they left us was their stupid English language, the angrier he grew at their persistent yinkering about rights this and rights that. Gyant DaMidget would bite his finger and punch himself on the nose and smash the air with an angry blow. Then he would stiffen up and put his golden pen to the page again. He would show then that if they were angry, he was even angrier than they were! If they liked to yinker, he would show them that he was the grand lord and master of yinkering! Maa len genaa merr, he would growl like an angry tiger.
‘In fact, what about my own people who tell me lies and try to yinker me? And when somebody tells me the truth about them, they call it lies. Do they think that they can also yinker me like the colonialists? I sack them and arrest them and I don’t care what anybody thinks or says. And I will never forgive them! Ever! If they think they are the only ones capable of yinkering, then they must be joking and they are at the wrong time at the wrong place. Gyant DaMidget will not tell anyone not to yinker. But they will find me right here. I don’t care if they are my brother or even my mother. I will let them see that if they think Gyant DaMidget is a fool, then they are the fools instead. Yinkering is yinkering and anybody can yinker at any time. They should remember that Gyant DaMidget can also yinker. And they can go to hell!’
And in fact, Gyant DaMidget yinkered a lot these days. He had become a living bundle of rage and crippling fear. He felt like he was perpetually on the brink of falling into a deep bottomless pit and often instinctively reached out to clutch at imaginary branches to save himself from dropping into that bottomless pit. Outside his special room and at the office, riding in his limo or flying on a plane, Gyant DaMidget perpetually yinkered along. He had to show everybody that he was as constant as the northern sky and that he was the famous rock of Gibraltar, the legendary sword of Damocles, and a wise man. If he was pious then people should know he was pious because that’s why he carried his holy beads and his sharp sword and stroke his imaginary goatee. No one was going to come to his personal country and tell him yinker this or yinker that. And if some people think they can yinker with him, ‘well you will get what you deserve’ he would scribble in his pad. He wrote these words in his special yinker room just after he sacked and arrested Dr. Daaf DaJoker, his special adviser on foreign affairs, human rights and democracy. In fact, he was going to ban all thoughts of these so-called yinker words in his personal country.
  
Author’s Note: Thanks to Suntou Touray for bringing this beautiful word yinkering to my attention. I just could not resist exploiting its vast creative potential for the greater edification of us all. Abaraka Suntou.
                                          

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