Nice one Rene - I'm eagerly waiting for the sequel. Rene Badjan wrote: > Gambia-l, > Here is another excerpt from this imaginary Gambian village. They > have been picked randomly. > > * > > Diatta had just completed his dinner, and leisurely swung on his hammock > made from empty rice sacks. His third wife, also his favorite, sat on a low > stool besides him engaged in low conversation. The wind howled like a raging > bush fire, and the clouds thundered menacingly as if a heavy rain was in the > making. The darkness outside was teriffying, and the hurricane lamp that hung > on a rope tied to his verandah provided the only light. > > Diatta, suddenly, quietly dozed off to sleep, and his third wife who sat > besides him most of the night went into the house. At that moment there was > an unruffled greeting; it came from someone who just walked into the > compound. Samba entered as inconspiciously as possible, and astonished Diatta > when he sat down on the low stool his wife had just vacated. > > Diatta did not get along very well with Samba. However, he had a penchant > for telling his stories that boosted his battered self-image in the village. > He wanted Samba to understand that he was the unquestionable decision maker > in the village. He was uncompromising and snobbish to anyone who wanted to > take development initiatives in the village. He acted like a rat that gnawed > one's dirty feet and then blew it gently to ease the pain. He hypocritically > feigned affection to his enemies both real and imagined, while he work > stealthily and viciously to destroy them. > > Diatta smiled with pride and grinned with conceitedness in the faint > light; he cleared his throat as he began narrating one of his fabulous > stories. > > "When I was a boy," he said to Samba, "I would walk into the depths of > the forest, going from one palm-wine taper to the next collecting fees for my > father. All this area we are looking at was under my father's care. > > He accented what he said by spreading his hands openly before him, as if > revealing the land. > > As the alkalo of Christekunda, Diatta was the sole authority for the > dispensation of land, which he strongly regarded as a family property. Samba > openly challenged his claims to own the vast expanse of land through a family > inheritance. The land should rightfully be a communal property. He then led > an initiative to form a village council that could only allocate land. This > earned the wrath of Diatta, and he always reminded him how his father founded > the village. > > "There were a lot of palm trees surrounding the property, and those who > tapped the trees for the wine paid for it. I collected the fees every month > for my father who took them to Mr Bankole," he continued. > > "Who was Mr Bankole?" Samba inquired. > > "You have never heard the story before?" he asked grinning. "Well, > mister Bankole was the person who originally owns this land that is now the > village. When he died my father inherited the land." > > "Are you saying that this village, and all the land surrounding it, > belonged to one person, and when that person died your father inherited the > land? What was your father's relationship to him? Samba asked with a mixture > of perplexity and disbelief. > > Land in many places, a symbol of prestige and power, perpetuated a > constant struggle between people. Moreover, claims and counter claim to land > ownership at times erupted in deadly confrontation. In the past this had not > been the case, as the abundance of land catered to the farming needs of the > communities, as well as provided a roof over their heads. > > "My father was an errand boy for Mr Bankole, a prominent lawyer in > Banjul. When my father came from the provinces, he worked at Mr Bankole's > residence as a caretaker. Some people living in the surrounding vincinity, > wanted to use the land for rice cultivation; and there were men who wanted to > use the many palm trees for tapping wine. My father settled in the property > to collect the fees levied," Diatta said with vivacity, always thrilled to > recount the story. > > Like a peacock that spread its iridescent tail feathers in flamboyant > display, Diatta vaunted his family's claims to the village at every > conceivable opportunity. He had long since looked with apprehension and > repulsion at Samba, and deemed him a potential adversary and a trouble > marker. Samba had formed a youth organization that ventured to usurp his > responsibilities. > > Samba had a high school education and remarkable organizational skills, > which earned him respect from both young and old alike. This was particularly > unsettling to Diatta. Their relationship, although a facade of mutual regard > and concert on the outside, really masked a deep-seated resentment. It was > like a wife who relished adoring her husband in public, but agonized over > spending time alone with him. > > "How did Mr Bankole came in possession of this enormous parcel of land?" > Samba asked with sarcasm. > > "That I don't know. All I know is that he was a lawyer, and his parents > emigrated from Freetown. He must have inherited the property from his > parents," Diatta replied, as if it were a matter of pure fact. > > At the early part of the nineteenth century, Banjul was part of > Sierraleone, a British colony. It became a separate colony in 1843. There > were villages and kingdoms scattered in various parts of the region that > became the Gambia. Bankole's grandparents, emigres from Freetown, could have > obtain the land from these tribal kingdoms. > > "When my father came to settle in the property, the mud house mister > Bankole built for him was the only dwelling," Diatta continued. "When mister > Bankole died, and my father was still the oversee, he invited others to come > and settle. The British colonial government, built a runway and a prison camp > nearby, and the first family to settle was a prison warden from the camp. > Soon people started coming from all over asking my father for a plot of land." > > "How come those who obtained land from your father had bigger plots > that those who obtained the land from you?" Samba interjected. > > The dispensation of land during the time of Diatta's father was for the > sole purpose of establishing his village. There was no monetary value to the > land, and the only requirement was to present cola-nuts, wrapped in papaya > leaves to keep it fresh, to the alkalo. This gesture of presenting cola-nuts > was symbolic; cola-nuts, an integral part of the cultural fabric, brings > peace and prosperity. They distributed cola-nuts in every occasion when grief > or happiness occurred. > > "Well! during my father's time not many people wanted to live in the > village. My father asked those who seek plots of land, to demarcate as wide > an area as they could fence. Those compounds are the sizes of three plots > combined together. The plot that your mother obtained from my father is one > of those," Diatta said. > > "Yes, I know," Samba replied. "My mother told me the story how she got > her compound. At the time, she said, bushes and trees surrounding the > village, and one could count the number of mud houses. Your father took her > to the present location of our compound, and asked her to take whatever area > she could fence. Brushes and tall grasses covered the whole area. My mother > only gave him a bundle of cola-nuts." > > Diatta, sturdily built, was fifty-five years old. His body frame > protruded, like a gloated, over-fed bed-bug ready to burst. He had a > rudimentary education, and hadn't gone beyond primary school. He worked as a > caretaker in one of the then high schools in Banjul. > > "What happened after the death of your father?" Samba asked. "I heard > there was a family dispute." > > "After the death of my father, a decade after the second world war, > there was a family dispute over who should inherit the alkaloship. My elder > brother insisted that he should, but I lived with my father at the time. > Before his death, he delegated most, if not all, of his responsibilties to > me," Diatta recounted. > > This part of his family history was dismal, and characterized a period > of feuding between him and his half brothers. Diatta was the only child born > to his mother, but his father's first wife had three sons. Upon the death of > their father, Diatta's eldest brother assumed authority in running the > village. However, Diatta refused to abdicate his responsibilties claiming to > be the rightful heir. > > A climate of uncertainty beset the village, as the villagers were not > sure to whom they should give their monthly yard fees. The alkalos acted as > yard fee collectors for the municipal council, and derived an income from > the fees collected. Besides the traditional authority associated with the > alkaloship, it was also a source of income. > > The villagers consequently refused to pay their yard fees. The conflict > landed before the British colonial administration in Banjul. The colonial > secretary, sitting in Banjul directed the commissioner responsible for the > Division to investigate the matter. The commissioner, at the end of the > investigation, submitted that an election be held. > > "I would never forget the favor I owed to those who were grateful to my > father. They galvanized their support and voted for me overwhelmingly when > the election took place. I won, and my brothers left the village in protest, > and settled elsewhere," Diatta stated flatly. He related this part of the > story on a somber note. > > "I have to go before it starts to rain," Samba announced abruptly. > > He handed over to Diatta a peice of paper. > > "I hope you will consider signing the document for us," Samba continued. > > "I am not sure," Diatta retorted. > > He got up from the hammock; he peered intensely into the dark clouds, > shrugged his shoulders, and staggered lamely into his house. > > Samba walked into the night, a blanket of darkness that shrouded the > whole village. An angry wind, howled like a mad wolf, and the trees danced > frantically as they swayed. He whistled softly to himself. He knew the alkalo > would not sign the document. He wondered aloud what he should do to counter > his lack of sensitivity to the concerns of the village youths.... > > ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- > > To unsubscribe/subscribe or view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L > Web interface at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html > You may also send subscription requests to [log in to unmask] > if you have problems accessing the web interface and remember to write your full name and e-mail address. > ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To unsubscribe/subscribe or view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L Web interface at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html You may also send subscription requests to [log in to unmask] if you have problems accessing the web interface and remember to write your full name and e-mail address. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------