Reading this story, I want to share an excerpt from a story about this
imaginary Gambian village. I would from time to time share more excerpts from
this story given the mood of the discussions on line. This story would be
reconstructed; critical evaluations would be very welcome.

                                                    *

    Samba was fifteen years old when his parents moved to Christekunda. It
took place at the end of the rainy season, the year he had just started
school at the ...

     His first month in the village, bared like a gaping wound, his deep
resentment, nagging uneasiness, and stinging boredom of the dull life.
Everyday, tired of sitting for hours in one place, he roamed around the
village aimlessly. He had this favorable spot at the huge Cashew tree, a few
meters from the main road. He had sat at this place idly, and practically
counted the number of cars plying the busy road. He took keen note of the new
and old ones.

    About this time in the village, the people engaged happily in their
communal tasks, like busy ants building an ant-hill. The womenfolk did
vegetable gardening; in the rainy season they did rice cultivation. The men
spent a lot of time in the Bantaba, the place they gathered to chat; they did
groundnut farming in the rainy season. The children, according to their ages,
grouped together and formed societies that reveled in their little innocent
adventures. They played soccer, hunted squirrels, rabbits and bush fowls, and
had group swimming at the village river.

     Samba became acquainted with the other boys in the village. At first
they shunned him like a leper, but eventually yielded to his commanding
presence and strong sense of belonging. Within a short period he had taken
the lead in almost everything; much to the consternation of some of the
youths, especially Galandou. He had led an insidious challenged against
everything Samba had tried to do.

     The village no longer wore the garment of reconciliation and harmony.
The village arena became a field of disunity, where the villagers gathered to
fight and threw invectives at each other. They maliciously fought over their
political differences. And, in the center of this political whirlwind, the
village alkalo, Diatta, cunningly expolited the situation to his advantage.

     Diatta, a member of the predominant ethnic group in the village, had
some members of his ethnicity who challenged his authority to lead them. They
claimed he was not a pure member of that ethnicity. His parents descended
from the ruins of the Mail empire, while the other's forebears hailed from
the scattered kingdoms within the Sene-gambia region. They fought ceaselessly
to replace him with one of their very own. The alkalo, however, had his loyal
supporters, and the communal meetings at the village arena became divisive
and bitter; more often tempers flared and people exchanged blows.

   The politics in the village became more vitriolic when the ruling party
splintered. However, Diatta sided with the ruling government against other
members of his ethnic grouping, who sided with the renegade vice president
and his newly formed political party. Not only did the elders engaged in this
political struggle, but their children as well.

    Samba had a burning desire to uplift the village from the ashes of
backwardness to the flames of progress. He formed the Christekunda Youth
Organization. All previous organizations had failed, rife with political
animosity and grudge that torn people apart. The organization orchestrated
community cleansing excercises; the youths cut the tall grasses and weeds in
most parts of the village during the rainy season. They organized periodical
soccer tournaments, dances, a luncheon sale and raffle. A development
committee attempted to bring electricity and water supply in the village.

    However, some of the youths, including the alkalo and other elders,
resented the fact that Samba whom they considered as an outsider, initiated
and led these programs. They also considered the fact, that he was neither a
member of their political, ethnic and religious groupings. Although
frustrated at times, Samba had refused to subscribe to these notions.

    He had tried as best as he could to instill a sense of religious,
political and ethnic tolerance among the youths. His level of consciousness,
which transcended the parochial issues of tribe, politics and religion,
immensely helped him to prevail. He challenged these endemic conflicts that
had sadly in some instances provoked a senseless and bitter confrontation
between the people.

   As much as Samba had tried to orientate the youths on these issues,
Galandou had as always defiantly opposed his views on everything. He was an
avid reader that might have deluded him into thinking that he knew a lot.
Hardly would one, especially Samba, raised a conversation without Galandou's
immediate disagreement. He was short, muscular and had the complexion of dry
brown clay; and he was full of the air of his own pomposity.

    "I have adopted that posture to safeguard the principles we have agreed
to adhere to," Samba stated.

     He was addressing the executive committee of the Christekunda Youth
Organization. Galandou had led youths belonging to his own ethnic group, to
organize a soccer match independent of the sports committee delegated to do
this. Samba had then obstructed the event from taking place by denying them
access to the football field, which the organization had control over.

    "You have no right to make a unilateral decision on this matter without
first consulting the execuitve committee," Galandou responded. He was a
member of the executive committee.

     "I am the President. If anything threatens the objectives we want to
secure in the village, I think I can decisively act to prevent that.  This is
what I have done."

     Samba defended his position.

     "We have a constitution, and there is no place in that constitution
which stated that the president can make unilateral decisions without the
executive committee," Galandou argued.

      "There is no place in that constitution either, which forbids the
president from preventing a harmful agenda to our common objectives. You are
a party to an effort to create division among the youths in the village. You
tried to organize your own soccer tournament without informing the sports
committee. It is that episode that creates division that I have tried to
stop," Samba emphasized.

     "Who are you to dictate what people should do in the village?" Galandou
asked angrily.  "Nobody is under an obligation to join your youth
organization neither subscribe to your views. People are free to do whatever
they like, and form their own groupings if they so desire."

      "You are right," Samba quipped. "No one should try to dictate anyone. I
am not trying to dictate anyone. I am just trying to promote the stated
objectives of the organization in enhancing ethnic harmony, religious
tolerance and political neutrality. This is what we are trying to do here as
an organization. These are the principles we have agreed to defend."

       "This is where the problem lies," Galandou said boldly. "Since you
came to the village you have tried to promote this idea that we are all one;
and that we should put our differences aside and pursue a common cause. But
you are wrong. Nothing you do or say can change the fact that we have
different persuasions. We came from different ethnic backgrounds, have
different political leanings and belong to different faiths. No wonder most
of the youths find it difficult to identify with your cause, because they
share nothing in common with you."

      Samba was reverently silent for a while, and his face clouded as gloomy
as a puddle of mud. He bit his lips as he mulled his bitter thoughts, and
breathing heavily said:

    "It is sad and it pains me a great deal that a young person like you
should express such retrogressive views. If our society does not change the
kinds of perception you hold, I cannot imagine what the future has in store
for us. You have a right to your opinion, but I dare say that you are wrong.
We have a lot in common. Our common humanity. We may not have the same
cultures or speak the same languages, but these are barriers we could easily
overcome. The languages we speak at birth could be learnt by other ethnic
groupings. We could share our cultures with one another, and respect whatever
differences there are between us."

     "Here you go again with your idealist mentality," Galandou derided him.
"They have all tried in the name of unity to bring the people together. But
what happens? When they started to struggle amongst themselves for political
control, they vainly appealed to people's ethnicity and religion to gain
support. Where does this lead us? They torn apart the very people they wanted
to unite and identify with people who share their beliefs and their
ethnicity. This whole notion of uniting the people is a gimmick. It is a
hypocritical appeal to a sense of nationalism rooted in falsehood. People's
allegiance to your religions and their ethnic groups proves stronger than
their allegiance to a common cause; their allegiance to the nation."

     "I concur to some extend to what you said," Samba replied. "But, I don't
think we should blame the people for this. We should balme those who used
these ethnic, religious and political sentiments to create divisions and
strenghthen their political bases. Unfortunately, since our countries
attained political independence, our leaders have exploited these sentiments
to consolidate their powers."

      Samba and Galandou always lashed and barked at each other like angry
dogs. When he could not stomach him anymore, Galandou had then unsuccessfully
attempted to create a rival organization of youths mostly from his ethnic
group. However, Samba had been a shrewd pacifist and had effectively
counteracted the creation of a distinct ethnic youth organization in the
village.

     Nonetheless, the bitter confrontation between the two continued; and
Galandou had angrily denounced him when the dispute between him and the
village school committe became public....

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