>From: Jane Warner <[log in to unmask]> >Reply-To: The Gambia and related-issues mailing list              <[log in to unmask]> >To: [log in to unmask] >Subject: Re: One day, Long ago . . . >Date: Tue, 1 Feb 2005 09:31:17 -0800 > > >Dear Mr. Jallow, > >    Thank you for this lovely piece.  I just returned from my second >trip to my husband's home in Allunhari.  I love all the kids and >people I've met there.  Your writing makes me imagine I can >understand all the things the kids say (not that I saw kids taunting >anyone) and something of their internal lives, tho I'm still >struggling just to get my greetings right! > >with best regards, > > >Zainaba Warner (Dukuray) > >Seattle, Washington > > >*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* > >On Tue, 1 Feb 2005, Baba Galleh Jallow wrote: > >> >> >> >>One day, Long ago . . . >> >>By Baba Galleh Jallow >> >>‘Daddy! Daddy?’ >> >>My mother’s voice did not distract me from watching the drama on >>the >>street. I was safely hidden behind our bamboo fence and peeping >>through a >>crack. Pappa the mad man was still a few feet away, but I could >>hear the >>children taunting him. >> >>‘Daddy is that you?’ My mother called again. I glanced over my >>shoulder >>and saw her standing at the kitchen door. >> >>‘No, Mama it’s not me. I’m here,’ I said. >> >>‘Don’t you go out there fighting,’ she warned. >> >>‘There’s no one fighting,’ I said. ‘The children are taunting >>Pappa.’ >> >>‘Well don’t you go taunting any mad men or you will get your head >>broken,’ she said. >> >>I resumed my peeping as mama disappeared back into the kitchen. >>Pappa was >>now almost adjacent my hiding place and I felt my heart beating >>faster. I >>was so afraid of mad men, particularly Pappa. People said mad men >>had >>superhuman strength, their own strength and the strength of the >>devils >>that possessed them. So I was never one to taunt a mad man or go >>mango >>stealing. >> >>I saw Pappa walk past me, his gray tattered boubou reaching only to >>his >>knees, his big hands dangling by his sides. He was always >>barefooted and >>bareheaded. I never heard him talk. Sometimes, he ignored the >>children >>and would not chase them as they were now challenging him to do. >>But it >>was known that if Pappa decided to chase somebody, he would never >>give >>up. A few months before, he had chased Ndoi right into her mother’s >>bedroom and pulled her out from under the bed and almost strangled >>her to >>death. Only the timely intervention of Ndoi’s father and brothers >>saved >>her life. And there she was again with the other children, shouting >>‘Pappa come and chase me! Pappa come and chase me!’ On that day, it >>seemed, Pappa was in no mood for chasing anybody and soon, the >>children >>gave up. >> >>Pappa was just one of the many mad men in the village. No one knew >>where >>they came from and each one of them hated something. Pappa hated >>‘come >>and chase me.’ Gankal, who could not speak and who barked like a >>dog, >>hated ‘wet skin.’ Like Pappa, Gankal sometimes ignored the children >>when >>they called him ‘wet skin.’ But sometimes, he would grab a stone, a >>bottle or a stick and furiously haul it at the children. And he >>would >>angrily bark like a dog and keep hauling missiles. One day, he >>smashed >>Basiru’s head with a big stone and drew a lot of blood. I never >>called >>Gankal ‘wet skin’ and when I saw him coming down the road, I either >>turned back or hid somewhere till he passed. >> >>And there was Alagi, who hated Oh, Tuuk! Alagi did not beat people >>or >>throw missiles at them. His specialty was cussing. He had a very >>sharp >>tongue and cussed the parents of anyone who dared to call him Oh, >>Tuuk. I >>never called him Oh, Tuuk. Alagi knew the entire Koran by heart and >>people said too much learning drove him mad. They said he had read >>some >>verses that were too heavy for his head. >> >>And there were Father Borro, Kumba the Genie and Franco the thief. >>Franco >>the thief stole anything under the sun - from clothes left in the >>sun to >>dry, to a raw piece of fish - anything that could help buy a glass >>or >>bottle of senga, or local beer. Franco the thief was always drunk. >> >>After Pappa disappeared into the distance without a chase, I came >>out of >>hiding and joined the other children. It was a happy day for me. >>There >>was no school and my Koranic teacher had traveled. So I was free to >>play >>soccer and wrestle in the sand and go hunting birds or do anything >>the >>other children wanted to do. >> >>Pappa was long forgotten when someone spotted Grandpa Biram in the >>distance and shouted, ‘Grandpa Biram is coming!’ We all scrambled >>to our >>feet and ran toward Grandpa Biram chanting, ‘Grandpa Biram where’s >>Yasin? >>Grandpa Biram where’s Yasin?’ Grandpa Biram responded ‘Yasin is in >>Paradise.’ >> >>Grandpa Biram where’s Yasin? Yasin in the Paradise. Grandpa Biram >>where’s >>Yasin . . . ? >> >>Yasin was Grandpa Biram’s mother and every time we saw Grandpa >>Biram >>coming down the street, we followed him chanting, asking where >>Yasin was. >>And he would tirelessly respond, ‘Yasin is in Paradise.’ I chanted >>after >>Grandpa Biram because he was not a mad man like Pappa or Gankal. He >>was a >>very old man who always wore a red hat and walked very slowly, >>using a >>walking stick. But he was a nice old man and all of us children >>loved >>him. He never got annoyed at us or refused to answer our endless >>questions. >> >>That day, as usual, we followed Grandpa Biram right up to his >>compound >>gate where he stopped and turning toward us, kindly said, as he >>usually >>did: ‘Yasin is in Paradise. Thank you all. Now run home and play.’ >> >>‘Goodbye Grandpa Biram,’ we all chanted. ‘Goodbye Grandpa Biram!’ >>Then we >>ran back to continue playing. >> >>The next day I saw a lot of people hurrying down the street. I ran >>up to >>my mama and asked her where so many people were going. >> >>‘Grandpa Biram died,’ she said. >> >>I ran back to my friends to announce the news. >> >>‘Grandpa Biram died,’ I announced. I don’t remember if anyone heard >>me or >>not. >> >> >>________________________________________________________________________________ >>Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! 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