Smart Town

By Baba Galleh Jallow

Our little town was a veritable cocktail of spectacles, miracles, and, well, 
talkatles, if you know what I mean. Any of our common townsfolk could swear 
to you that if you want to see real life adventures not from Sir Rider 
Haggard or any Bruce Lee movies, all you need to do is come to our little 
town. Not only come to our little town, but come to the big tree in the 
middle of our little town where our common sages meet to discuss matters of 
cultural philosophy and argue about the great exploits of our common 
ancestors.

You know, what is mot amazing about our little town is the caliber of 
geniuses we have among our ranks. Great folks like Dr. Homicus Medicus, who 
could boast of an unlimited number of academic credentials under his belt 
and who could conjure the very angels of heaven under his feet if he so 
desired. Dr. Medicus is so popular in our little town that at least one out 
of every hundred of our common townsfolk could swear by his name in the 
morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening and still call for more. Of 
course, our gallant Homicus Medicus himself would argue that ninety-nine out 
of hundred townsfolk actually go to bed singing his name and wake up singing 
his name and walk about singing his name in a constant chorus of praise that 
sinks to the crust of the earth and rises up to the seventh heavens. And you 
know what, most of our common townsfolk are inclined to agree with him, 
because good old Homicus Medicus is just plain old smarty.

But then all by himself, Dr. Homicus Medicus would have soon bored our 
common townsfolk to death and they would have either emigrated from our 
little town or stuffed their ears with wool to keep all the funny noises 
coming from his side from polluting their sacred sensibilities. The reason 
they keep loving our little town is that there are so many other great guys 
on the swing in our common streets. On a typical workday, folks could add 
sugar to their spice by simply sitting beside the road and watching the 
streams of gallant bigwigs sail by. What makes this spectacle worthy of so 
much interest is that the bigwigs do not simply sail by in their flamboyant 
outfits. They also make it a point to loudly espouse their exotic 
philosophies and erudite expositions on perennial questions on the meaning 
of truth and justice, of life and death, of honor and dishonor, and many 
such topics of vital interest. Mostly, our common townsfolk noted, those 
closest to Dr. Medicus usually espoused the most erudite philosophies and 
displayed an unusual level of expertise in what became known as the 
wiri-wiri tactics of persuasion and preservation.

Consider for instance the case of our famous Homicus Fenikus. Now Mr. 
Fenikus was not only a well-respected guy in our little town, he was also 
well known for his expertise in wiri-wiri tactics. And he is always quick to 
tell all doubting Thomases that what comes after wiri-wiri is jaari-ndaari. 
And if you do not believe him, go check it out yourself. But what makes Mr. 
Homicus Fenikus really special is his ability to tell amazing stories about 
his perceived opponents. Which is why if you are a stranger in our little 
town, one of the first pieces of advice you get from our common townsfolk is 
‘beware the ides of Fenikus.’ For our gentle friend Homicus Fenikus can 
literally build a whole castle without touching a single brick or plank of 
wood. And he will build this castle so magnificently that our common 
townsfolk can only stand there and stare, open-mouthed, and marvel at just 
how ugly or beautiful this castle is, as the case might be.

And then there is the incomparable Homo Solomal of the sliding gait. Homo 
Solomal is so unique in our little town that our common townsfolk called him 
Mbahal on account of his ability to throw so many spices into the mix and 
handle them so well that they come out just fine and ready for consumption. 
For Homo Solomal was not only a great philosopher and a patron of the arts; 
he was also a great craftsman and master wordsmith himself who, if he were 
really in the mood, could tell you that what is not really is, and what is, 
is really not. Or he could just appear on the scene one fine day and tell 
you that if you wanted to reach the skies, all you need to do is fly. And he 
would challenge you to prove him wrong. And of course, none of our common 
townsfolk could ever prove him wrong. All they did in the face of such 
magnificent erudition is hold their mouths and wildly stare and call him 
Mbahal. At which point the infallible Homo Solomal would loudly sigh and 
raise his hands and wonder why he really was so smart. But hey, is he not 
part of the reason why our little town is nicknamed Smart Town? He sure is. 
Thank God for the likes of Homicus Medicus, Homicus Fenikus, and Homo 
Solomal, alias Mbahal. They are the proverbial apples of our eyes. Try 
telling our common townsfolk otherwise and you will find yourself swimming 
in really hot soup. Go Medicus! Go Fenikus! Go Mbahal! Nyangkatang!!!

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