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!!! _________________________________________________________________ Express yourself instantly with MSN Messenger! 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