Hi Ebrima,

You've been missed! Welcome back and all the best.  I am awaiting our seasoned and erudite civil servant 'Kebba Jobe' to try to debunk your excellent submission on the lies of the great imbecile Yahya  Jammeh. I hope he will not come with his usual piffle about the great projects the APRC are initiating. Such have been debunked by Hamjatta, KB, Saul Khan et al.

Regards,

Mboge

>From: Ebrima Ceesay <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Gambia and related-issues mailing list <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: A Man Born To Fish! (Part One)
>Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2001 17:48:41 -0000
>
>The Old Adage says: "Once a fisherman always a fisherman; the other
>man’s
>line is always greener/heavier"
>
>***************************************************************
>
>
>
>A Man Born to Fish (Part One)
>
>
>In the quiet calm of the distant backwater, the young man waited,
>eagerly
>anticipating his day’s catch. He imagined his small basket with its
>regular
>catch of small fish, and in the manner of young men the world over,
>he
>dreamed of the day he would land THE BIG ONE.
>
>His family, fishermen one and all, laughed at his dreams, and
>advised the
>young man to be content with the catch he knew he could rely on:
>"Better the
>fish in the basket than the ones still swimming in the river," they
>would
>say. And the young man dreamed on.
>
>Day followed by week followed by month followed by year, and the
>dreams grew
>bigger and better and brighter. THE BIG ONE was there, somewhere,
>waiting
>in the silent depths of the mighty river; waiting to be landed and
>admired
>and enjoyed. And the young man dreamed on as he fished, imagining
>his moment
>of triumph.
>
>Year followed by year, and word came downstream of The Island. The
>reports
>spoke of fish the like of which he had never dreamt: fish of
>gleaming
>colour, of magnificent size, of inestimable value in the market
>place.
>Patience, the young man’s family advocated, would bring its own
>rewards, but
>patience was a quality in short supply for the young man. His eyes
>were
>drawn up-river and away from the familiar landscape of home, and his
>dreams
>told him of the fish that were, even as he sat by his peaceful
>backwater,
>getting away.
>
>His decision made, the young man packed up his hooks and lines and
>baskets,
>and quite ignoring the laments of his family, travelled in search of
>The
>Island. The way was hard, and the going was heavy and the journey
>was long,
>but the young man’s dreams were as long and as heavy as THE BIG ONE
>that
>awaited him in the swirl of the waters around The Island.
>
>The old and wise men made space on the banks of The Island, and the
>young
>man took his place there. The talk was of fish of colour and size
>and
>value: of giants that had been caught in years gone by; of the ones
>that
>had gotten away; of the monsters still waiting their turn to be
>hooked.
>The young man boasted that his would be the hook to bring in the
>biggest and
>best catch The Island had ever seen.
>
>Day followed by week followed by month followed by year, and in his
>mind’s
>eye the young man weighed and measured his record catch, and basked
>in the
>envious praises of his fellow fisher men.
>
>His hook and line remained empty.
>
>Patience, the old and wise men admonished, would bring its own
>rewards, but
>patience was an elusive thing, and the young man’s eyes were drawn
>away from
>The Island to that place, far far away, where salt waves roared and
>ocean
>winds blew.
>
>A passing traveller told of the west where no land was, told of
>marine
>wonders which would fill three canoes, told of wealth that could not
>be
>told. The traveller’s tales swamped the young man’s heart and head
>and no
>longer was The Island sufficient for his needs. Only the west would
>suffice
>for this dreamer of dreams and catcher of fish.
>
>His decision made again, the young man packed up his hooks and lines
>and
>baskets once again, and quite ignoring the advice of the old and
>wise men of
>The Island to stay a while longer, he began the long journey towards
>the
>setting sun.
>
>The way was hard and the going was heavy and the journey was indeed
>long,
>but the young man’s dreams grew with each footstep he took, and the
>ocean’s
>swell seemed to reach out to him to bring him ever closer. To the
>west he
>travelled until he could go no further, and the south beckoned him
>further
>still, deep into the land of the high and mighty lion.
>
>Guardian of the ocean’s mysteries, the high and mighty lion allowed
>the
>passage of the fisherman into the heart of its territory. It
>watched as
>the young man baited his hooks and cast his lines deep into the
>endless
>depths of the ocean. It watched as the young man waited for THE BIG
>ONE to
>bite. It watched as the young fisherman grew accustomed to the
>changing
>tides, to the summer storms, to the winter winds. It watched and
>saw the
>young man’s imaginings grow ever richer and ever larger,
>anticipating his
>catch.
>
>His hook and line remained empty still.
>
>By the oceanside, the young man practised the art and science of
>fishing:
>he practised day followed by week followed by month followed by
>year. He
>practised until really there was nothing much more to learn. And
>the high
>and mighty lion sharpened its claws, anticipating a fight with other
>lions,
>and watching the fisherman do his very best.
>
>Expert in his craft, the now not so young man vowed that THE BIG ONE
>would
>not continue to elude him. If he were to take his hard-won skills
>back to
>his homeland, he knew that the prize would surely be his: in
>familiar
>homewaters, under a familiar sky, reward would come his way without
>doubt.
>
>The high and mighty lion roared as our fisherman took his leave of
>its
>territories, and as other lions moved in for the coming fight.
>
>Retracing his steps northward, and keeping the ocean always in
>sight, the
>fisherman made his way home, to where THE BIG ONE surely awaited
>him.
>
>Younger fishermen watched as he baited his hooks and cast his lines:
> they
>admired his expertise and his style. They begged him to share his
>knowledge, to watch their own efforts, to criticise their
>techniques.
>Taking him to their leader, they asked that he too should be a
>teacher and a
>judge of their skills. And so it was.
>
>The man born to fish knew his talents were great and without
>question, and
>his heart grew heavy with pride. Now, instead of casting his lines
>with the
>first light of dawn, the fisherman slept on in the comfort of his
>bed,
>dreaming his dreams and feasting on his experiences. THE BIG ONE
>was surely
>his.
>
>The young fishermen grew angry with the expert. They criticised his
>habit
>of sleeping while they fished, and they wondered how he would ever
>judge
>their developing skills from his bed. They planned to return to
>their
>leader and ask him to dismiss the stranger. They went to report
>that he was
>not a suitable judge, no matter what his fishing skills were.
>
>The man born to fish heard whispers on the wind of the young
>fishermen’s
>plans, and he announced to any who would listen that he would leave
>straight
>away and take his talents elsewhere. Not waiting to be dismissed,
>the man
>packed his hooks and lines and baskets and left the Oceanside. He
>would
>return to the riverbank of his birth, where his family would welcome
>his
>return with feasting and dancing, but first he would pass on his
>knowledge
>and expertise to a wider audience. He owed the world that much.
>
>Searching for the best position available, the man came to the
>tallest
>building he could find, and there told of his potential power to
>hook THE
>BIG ONE which was waiting just for him. He spoke eloquently, and
>who could
>resist him ? He was urged to take his place in the tallest building
>and to
>use his power and skill to serve the other wise ones speaking to the
>wider
>audience.
>
>Time was taking its toll on the man born to fish, and his heart was
>hardening with arrogance as well as age. He considered his
>knowledge and
>experience to be above that of all others, even of those who had
>served
>longer than he in the tallest building. Envious resentment grew in
>every
>sinew of his body, and he looked for ways in which to take the lead.
>
>The wise ones knew his game. They asked him why he no longer cast
>his lines
>into the water, but sought instead to land a different catch. They
>asked
>why their lines seemed so much more preferable to a fisherman. Was
>it that
>he thought the other men’s catches were always bigger and better
>than his
>own ? Could it be that he wanted to hold all the lines for himself ?
>There
>could be no answer to their questions, only a jealous silence.
>
>Then came the day that A BIG ONE made his presence known throughout
>the
>land. Times were changing, and the once gentle landscape of home
>was
>becoming weary with harsh change.
>
>The wise ones in the tallest building in turn bid farewell to their
>wider
>audience, and travelled safe and honest pathways across the four
>corners of
>the earth. They promised to return when the BIG ONE’s day was done
>and the
>wider audience applauded them.
>
>Our fisherman remained in the tallest building, and his pride grew
>with each
>passing day. THE BIG ONE would be his for the catching, and the
>catch would
>be his alone.
>
>As had happened so often in his life, the fishermen’s schemes met
>with
>failure. His hooks and lines remained empty, and when the waters of
>home
>grew too turbulent for his talents, he knew he would have to find
>fresh
>waters to fish.
>
>By cover of night, the now old fisherman made his escape from the
>tallest
>building and flew to a safer shore. There he tells all who will
>listen of
>his talents as a fisherman, and once in a while he casts his hooks
>and lines
>in hope that THE BIG ONE will bite.
>
>Those who do listen to him, know that it probably never will.
>
>Those who do not listen to him, know that he has been using the
>wrong bait
>all his life.
>
>(To be Continued)
>
>Ebrima Ceesay,
>Birmingham, UK.
>
>
>
>"Kebba Jobe": I am glad that you have accepted my invitation to
>debate me,
>so do expect my fisrt posting very, very soon. I had to spend some
>time this
>afternoon, writing this satire as promised yesterday. Anyway, I
>have now
>got free time in my hands.
>
>Kebba Dampha: What can I say about you, other than the fact that you
>are
>indeed an asset for the Gambia. Anyway, I'll get back to you after
>sending
>my first posting to the L, vis-a-vis my debate with "Kebba Jobe."
>
>
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