LIFE IN OUR LITTLE TOWN - Part One
By Baba Galleh Jallow


Unlike all other towns, life in our little town was always normal. Not even
the greatest of storms and tornadoes could disturb the smooth musical rhythm
of life in our little town. Come hail or wind, rain or shine, our little
town remained calm and serene, its life patterned along age-old traditions
and established norms.
The small streets of our little town were paved with air and marked by rows
and rows of beautiful thorn bushes, sharp and pricking to the touch, which
grew freely and lent an added tranquility to the atmosphere. Here and there
were big trees under which were erected big wooden beds that served as
meeting places for the learned among our common townsfolk. There under the
cool shades of those mighty trees, they would discuss every subject under
the sun and carry on their learned debates, day in, day out.
Society in our little town was divided into several distinct strata. Right
at the peak of the social pyramid perched our most prominent bigwigs, the
fat-potbellied moneybags who controlled the strings of all our bulging
purses and drove around in brand new Pajeros and other expensive cars. These
were the Smoothface Beevys and Fatcheek Rattys, the Tonton Luhatis and
Jelyeb Lebatis, the really great names whose mere utterances activated the
juicy glands of our common townsfolk. Nicknamed the untouchables, these our
most prominent bigwigs led a life of ease and plenty. They led what was
commonly known in our little town, as ‘flamboyant lifestyles.’
The favourite past time of our famous moneybags was to ride their fattened
mares at the golden dusk of our little town, waving their flywhisks at our
amazed common townsfolk as they trotted gaily by, and letting out small
shrieks once in a while, so as not to be mistaken for impersonators. For of
late, some of our dishonest common townsfolk with no money and little brains
had taken to riding stolen mares along the streets of our little town,
pretending to be untouchable moneybags so as to be able to dupe one innocent
victim or the other. But now, with their special shrieks, the real moneybags
could be distinguished from the fake ones.
A rung down the top of our social ladder were our less prominent bigwigs,
the Toughlip Weakys and Bigman Smallys, the Wahyeb Diyamus, Nehal Lambalehs
and Momkai Degalas whose defining characteristic was their nearness to the
real moneybags. They made up the administrative cadre of the prominent
council of our little town. Owing to their fabled garrulous cleverness and
nimble minds, they were also the chief advisers in many a giant business in
our little town. These had no fattened mares to ride in our golden sunsets,
but they owned beautiful Japanese and Chinese cars, which they loved to
slowly drive before our famous moneybags, honking their horns and waving
their left hands out the windows to make way for their prominent bosses.
Their favourite past time was to sit around our prominent moneybags,
listening to tall tales of gallantry and exploits, and giving advice where
needed and even where not needed. They were truly, the most spectacular lot
in the social cocktail of our little town.
Next on the social ladder, almost parallel to our less prominent bigwigs,
were the quiet ones of our little town: the Norpil Degalas and Fangkung
Mofiseshs, whose defining characteristic was silence, but who nevertheless
contributed immensely in making our little town what it was: A lively hub of
exciting activity that was the pride of the centuries.


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