Sirius VS. XM

Assalamu alaikum / greetings, OK, I have both Sirius and XM sattelite radio services. And it’s really hard to pick which service I like best. Right now, I think it’s Sirius, because they carry a lot of the NPR / PRI programs I like and used to listen to when I lived in Northwest Indiana, such as Worldview and The World. Actually, I think Worldview is produced in Chicago. I also listen to This American Life, if I happen to catch it.

However, Afropop comes on XM Public Radio, so if I want to listen to that, I have to switch over to my XM receiver. And therein lies the problem.

You can’t just get one service, and think all of the different programming you want will be on it, because, at least in my case, there are some programs that are only carried on XM and some that are only carried on Sirius.

Another thing that I’ve noticed is that Sirius sounds much more like “normal radio”, meaning there is imaging and other things which make it sound like a “real” or maybe I should say, a “terrestrial” radio. Whereas, XM doesn’t sound like that, you just get the music, with of course, the channel promos in-between. But the DJ’s if they are there at all, are not as “out there” as they are on Sirius. And I guess some people like that, and I don’t really mind one way or the other, although I do like the feel of Sirius, their music programming tends to be more entertaining, and I don’t find myself flipping through different channels as much as I do on XM.

Also, while XM tends to get deeper into their music playlists, Sirius tends to be more hits-based, but that can be bad, as they also tend to be more repetitious. But it seems that they are getting better about this.

The thing is, I like both services, and unless I really got into a financial pinch, it would be hard to give them up. If I had a choice between keeping both of my sattelite radio services or keeping my Dish Network TV, I’d give up the Dish first. Although to be honest, I wouldn’t want to give that up either. But I’d rather have the radio and Internet than the TV.

Anyway, both services offer a channel dedicated to old-time radio shows, and I really like that as well. Another thing which I thought of that I’d wanted to mention earlier was that while Sirius carries NPR / PRI programming as a “feed”, XM’s approach is to, I guess you could say, create their own public radio channel, which they call XMPR, although they also take programming from other sources as well. It’s just too bad that Sirius does not carry Afropop.

One thing, though, that both services lack is world music programming. Sirius has little to none, unless you count the Latin and Canadian music channels. XM used to have World Zone and Ngoma, which is an African music channel, and while they are still available online, they are no longer available on the XM receivers themselves. And I’m not sure if I like this, because if I wanted to listen to African music online, I’d go somewhere else. If I’m paying for a receiver, and if I’m paying for something I can’t get on “normal radio”, I’d like to get things like world music, etc., and I don’t just want the same old things I could get on my normal, terrestrial radio.

I’ve always had an interest in radio. I actually had a novice ham radio license, but it’s long expired now and I’d have to retest if I wanted a new one. I also remember, way before the Internet, I’d listen to AM radio at night, once the sun went down and all of the stations would start to come in from long distances, and I enjoyed listening to radio from places like Cleveland, Chicago, New York, Detroit, etc. So I guess my interest in sattelite radio is not surprising, and I like it even more because I can listen to programming that I’d used to only be able to listen to on the computer, and now I’m not tied to the computer. The BBC is one example of this. I usually fall asleep to the BBC, and wake up to it in the morning. It’s usually that or Discovery Channel Radio.

Salem, Indiana – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Link: Salem, Indiana – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

The City of Salem, Indiana – A City About Progress – Home Page

Assalamu alaikum / greetings, yep, this is my parents’ hometown!  I’m going to Southern Indiana / Salem tomorrow morning to attend a cousin’s graduation tomorrow afternoon.  A lot of my family, both on my mom and dad’s side still lives there.  I’ll try to blog, but I’m not sure I’ll get a lot of time online.  I should be back some time Sunday.

Link: The City of Salem, Indiana – A City About Progress – Home Page.

The Kombo East By-elections.

Assalamu alaikum / greetings, well, the results of the Kombo East by-election are in, and the APRC has retained their seat. Needless to say, I am very disappointed, since the general concensus seemed to be that the opposition would win.

However, if you look at the numbers, the opposition did, indeed, get a majority of the votes. However, those votes were split between the NADD candidate and the UDP/NRP candidate. So what does this say?

To my mind, the only * sure * way of beating Yahya Jammeh come October 2006, is to have a united opposition. However, it seems that getting the opposition to come back to the table is going to be difficult at best, especially when at least one of the NADD members, namely Lamin Wa Juwara, seems to want to make this campaign more about his personal dislike for Ousainou Darboe than about any real issues with the APRC. Just this past Friday, there was an article in the Point newspaper, where Lamin Wa Juwara alleges that the reason why the UDP could not contest the last Parliamentary elections was because Ousainou Darboe used party funds to pay a tax bill. If this is the case, what evidence does Wa Juwara have to back this up? Also, wasn’t Lamin Wa Juwara still a member of UDP at this time? If so, did he bring this up at the time, and if not why? And why bring this up now, when it’s not even Darboe himself running for office?

OK, I’m digressing here, but this is just one example of why it will be extremely hard for the opposition to unite before October. And basically, what I’m reading in this article is not that Wa Juwara wants UDP to come back to the table, but he wants the * supporters * to come back to the table. So, does he really want a united opposition? If he does, he wants a Darboeless united opposition, and as it seems that many still support Darboe, this does not seem to be likely.

There was a small gathering of Gambians in Nashville yesterday, which I was fortunate enough to attend, and I made the statement there that the only sure way for the opposition to win in October would be for them to unite. I also stated that all of the past problems with NADD, which eventually led to them breaking up, had to be put aside in the interest of the country and the Gambian people. I mean, I have stated here, in previous posts, that it seemed to me that NADD, pre-Darboe resignation, could not put their egoes aside long enough to even select a flag-bearer, and I still stand by that statement, and as I see things now, I’m not sure that the opposition members, whether from NADD or UDP, would be able to put their differences aside to unite, form a coalition, and oust Jammeh in 2006.

And you know, this makes me sad. Just as Ousainou Darboe may need to be told to put his "power-hungry political aspirations aside and come back to NADD, as some have suggested, then Wa Juwara needs to stop using the NADD platform as a means of castigating and maligning Darboe, as well. He can have his problems with Darboe all he wants, but for the sake of the Gambian people, he really needs to stop. But no one seems to be saying this. It’s all about "power-hungry, tribalistic, Darboe".

In all of this fingerpointing and levelling of accusations, the real goal of getting rid of Jammeh come October has been lost site of. The struggling, defenseless Gambian masses have been forgotten, it seems, by both NADD and UDP/NRP alike. And that’s what makes me sad. That is what gives me such a despondent, frustrated feeling today.

I also want to address some other points related to the gathering yesterday, as well as putting some other thoughts out there. First of all, I want to thank everyone at the gathering for making me feel welcome, and allowing me to come and participate, even if I spent most of my time just listening and observing. Everyone was very nice, and I jokingly had the thought that this would have been a wonderful group of people to spend the Eid with * smiling *.

But anyway, at one point during the day, I began speaking to a guy called Musa (sorry Musa don’t know your last name), who, just after introducing himself, said to me, "Oh, I know you’re a UDP supporter, I can tell by your postings". Firstly, I want to make it clear, so no one gets it twisted, I want a united opposition, because that is an almost sure way (because nothing is ever certain, it seems), of ousting Jammeh come 2006. It’s a united opposition that I want, that, to me, would be the best thing for the Gambian people, and the numbers seemed to show this yesterday. Though the APRC won, the "opposition" divided between UDP/NRP and NADD, got * most * of the votes.

My "support" for the UDP/NRP stems from my understanding of what caused the split in the first place. My understanding is that, what ultimately led to the split had to do with the initial selection of the flag-bearer, where Omar Jallow was selected. As it was explained to me, Ousainou Darboe and Omar Jallow were the two candidates up for the selection of the flag-bearer of NADD. Hamat Bah had put his support behind Ousainou Darboe, and as he was in Dakar, he delegated the voting responsibility to Dulo Bah. Dulo Bah, instead, voted for Omar Jallow, at which point, the selection process was stopped, because the NADD chairman had been told in advance that the NRP was backing Darboe.

When asked why Dulo Bah was voting for Omar Jallow, when it had already been communicated to the chairman of NADD that Dulo would be voting for Darboe, he made the statement that "Hamat Bah was a dictator". However, up to this time, Dulo Bah had never mentioned this as a problem before.

Now, my understanding is that the actual reason why Dulo Bah voted for Omar Jalow was not because "Hamat Bah was a dictator", but because he was bribed into voting for Omar Jallow, instead of Ousainou Darboe.

In my statements at the Nashville meeting yesterday, I said that if this was the case, if Dulo Bah was indeed bribed into voting for Omar Jallow, then I could no longer support a party / coalition who engaged in this sort of behavior. Because how can an opposition party / coalition claim to be better than the incumbent government who, as is well-known, engages in fraudulent tactics including vote-buying, when said opposition party engages in the same tactics?

And that was what did it for me. How can you expect Darboe, a man who has spent his life upholding the law, stand by and watch a fraudulent process take place, and then go along with it? And that seems to be what the NADD supporters / members expected Darboe to do. If Darboe would have went along with this process, if it was indeed fraudulent, as has been communicated to me, then this would be wrong, and then, in that case, the opposition would be no better than the people they are trying to get out of office.

However, at this point, that is water under the bridge. We can sit and argue all day long about why Darboe resigned, why NADD split, etc., but that’s not going to change the fact that the split has happened, and castigating Darboe and labelling him as a corrupt, power-hungry tribalist, isn’t going to bring either him nor his supporters back to the NADD table.

Some other things which I’ve seen among some supporters of NADD, are (1), this idea that the entire political process needs to be changed and / or reinvented, (2), this implicit idea that if Gambians don’t support NADD, then they are either selfish, or they are just too stupid and thus are gullible to "politicians playing with their minds". And if indeed, some segments of NADD feel this way about the Gambian people, what does this say about how they will treat the Gambian people, if they are elected to office? If you think that the "Gambian people are just too stupid", would you listen to their concerns, or would you "do what’s best for them", regardless if they want it or not?

Also, if NADD takes the position of some of their supporters that "if you are for NADD, you are for The Gambia, but if you’re not for NADD, you’re not for The Gambia, or you’re only for yourself", how will NADD treat the voters they perceive as not voting for them, if indeed, they win the elections in October? Will their be repercutions for the "districts that didn’t vote for us"?

To me, the "Gambians are only for Gambia if they support NADD" smacks of "undemocraticness", and I know that’s not a real word, but if you truly believe in democracy, you must respect and uphold the people’s right to elect the candidate of their choice, even if it’s the APRC candidate.

If the elections yesterday were transparent, free, and fair, and if October’s elections are the same, with no shinanigans by the APRC, and the APRC ultimately wins, the opposition must accept that, whether they are united or not, if they truly believe in democracy for The Gambia.

Yeah, I would not agree with this result, and it would indeed make me wonder if the majority of Gambians didn’t feel that murder of innocent people, corruption, and the ignoring of the rule of law would be OK, according to the majority of Gambians. And if this would indeed be the case, I’d be truly saddened. But, if the majority of Gambians indeed vote for this, barring any electoral misconduct, then the Gambian people would indeed have to live with that result.

Anyway, getting back to my original assertion, I feel that in order for the opposition to have a stronger chance of beating the APRC come October, the opposition must be united. However, as strongly as I feel about that, getting the opposition to again come together is going to be a truly uphill battle. And I applaud Haruna Darboe’s Global Democracy Project for working hard to achieve this goal. In my view, this is what should have happened, back when the split from NADD by the UDP/NRP first took place. Cooler, more mature heads, should have prevailed at that point. Honest attempts should have been made to ascertain why the split took place, and though many may have disagreed with Darboe’s reasoning, Darboe’s concerns should have been treated as legitimate. But they were not. In fact, attempts were made to malign Darboe, even before Darboe actually resigned, and in order to see this, one can go back and read the numerous pieces posted by Pa Nderry Mbai, in at least the weeks leading up to the split from NADD by the UDP/NRP.

It seems that what NADD wants is the UDP to come back, sans Darboe, and I’m not sure if that is going to happen, not because of Darboe’s supposed power-hungriness, but because the UDP has chosen Darboe to lead them. If NADD wants a Darboeless UDP, then they would be dictating to the UDP, that they * must * pick someone else to lead them, and how democratic is that? You may not like the guy, but if UDP has chosen him, and you say you want a united opposition, than that is who you have to work with, like it or not. If you want to dictate to other parties who they should choose as their leaders, than this is not democratic.

Anyway, having said all of this, though, I strongly believe that the opposition has to reunite, in order to have a better chance of defeating Jammeh come October. I don’t have any ideas, as of now, as to how this can happen. What I can say, though, is that there is going to have to be a lot of compromise, a lot of give-and-take, and people, whoever they are, are going to have to put thier personal aspirations, as well as personal dislikes of whomever of the candidates, on hold, at least until Jammeh is ousted.

Once Jammeh is gone, Wa Juwara can castigate and malign Darboe all he wants. Other members of NADD can set about "reforming the political process" and "educating the electorate" all they want. However, at this point, there is not enough time for all of that. The goal of the opposition should be to get rid of Jammeh, but it needs to be done in an transparent, honest, and forthright manner. The ends do not justify the means, and fraudulent tactics should not be used by the opposition to get a certain outcome, because if this happens, then the opposition will have been no better than the government they are accusing of the same things and whom they are supposedly trying to oust.

The bottom line is that both NADD and UDP/NRP want the same things for the Gambian people. They may have different approaches and different ideas, but they, I’d hope, have the best interests of the Gambian people at heart. And for those of NADD and UDP/NRP who are only thinking of themselves, then, whoever they are, this needs to stop right now! Because at this point, the blame game should be over. Because as long as the opposition is fighting each other, then Jammeh has the upper hand and can thus rest easy at night.

Is it * possible * for Jammeh to be beaten in 2006, minus a united oppostion? Yes, it’s * possible *. Maybe it can be done. But, Jammeh is more likely to be beaten by a united opposition, than a divided one, and this seemed to be proven yesterday by the numbers. If the Global Democracy Project can bring the various opposition members back to the negotiating table, and thus, affect a reunification, this would indeed be a wonderful thing for the Gambian people. The question, though, is if this can be done. If Lamin Wa Juwara’s continuing accusations against Ousainou Darboe, which were made in the Point Newspaper, are anything to go by, Ousainou Darboe is not the only one seemingly against a united opposition. So, in trying to analyze what exactly caused the NADD split, in order to then affect a reconciliation between UDP/NRP and NADD, the various members need to first be honest with themselves about the situation in which they find themselves, and how it came about, in the first place. Then, they may need to compromise on various aspects of the coalition they are trying to put into place. Also, as stated before, they need to put all personal gripes that they might have with the other members aside, at least until the coalition has achieved the ultimate goal of ousting Jammeh. And finally, what needs to be foremost in the minds of the coalition members, is the needs and wants of the Gambian people. The interests of the Gambian people need to come first and foremost, before anything else. And this is the most important thing that needs to happen. Because, if you look at the numbers, the Gambian people seem to want change. The majority of the votes in the Kombo East election went to the opposition, not to the APRC. This not only should serve as a lesson to "supposedly power-hungry Darboe and the UDP/NRP", but the "I want to use the NADD platform as a forum for airing my personal grievances against Ousainou Darboe" Wa Juwara, as well. Also, the segment of the NADD members who believe in a "re-education of the Gambian electorate" may have to sleve that proposition until Jammeh is gone and there is some sort of semblance of democracy and the rule of law put into place in The Gambia.

What I’m saying is that compromise, respect for others’ views, and the needs and interests of the Gambian people need to take center stage here, and not the personal wants, needs, and interests of the opposition members. Inshallah, that will happen. In the meantime, I will continue to support the UDP / NRP alliance (not that it matters ’cause I can’t vote in a Gambian electionanyway), firstly, because they don’t think "the Gambian people are just too stupid to elect the right person". And secondly, when fraudulent means were supposedly employed to select a flag-bearer for NADD, the UDP, and later the NRP left the coalition as a result of this. I have to respect that, especially since fraud should never be used by people purporting to be against fraud employed by the current government. As I said, the ends do not justify the means. The opposition needs to take the high road in all of their dealings with not only themselves, but the current ruling party, as well as the Gambian people.

And on that note, I will end this. I will continue to keep The Gambia and her people in my duas, and pray that the Gambian people will not have to suffer through 5, not to talk of 30! more years of Jammeh.

Before I leave, though, I want to thank the Gambians I met with in Nashville for their kindness toward me. And I want to also thank Haruna Darboe and Ousman Manjang for making the drive to Nashville from Atlanta to hear what the Nashville Gambian community had to say.

Other than the disappointing loss of the opposition to the APRC in the Kombo East elections, it was a good afternoon. Inshallah, my next visit will be under better circumstances, and we can celebrate the ousting of Jammeh, whether it’s NADD, UDP/NRP, or a coalition of the two. Because when you get right down to it, anything, even if it’s my dog Abby elected as President, is better than Jammeh.

The Bird Flu Movie

Assalamu alaikum, you know, I’m not sure what this movie was called that I watched on ABC earlier tonight, and don’t ask me why I watched it.

I heard the advertisement for this movie on the way into work this morning, and didn’t think that I was going to watch it. I just happened to remember it was on, and so I just flipped it on.

Basically, as you might expect, the movie tells of a fictional flu pandemic started when the “bird flu” goes airborne, where it’s transmissible from human to human.

And once that happens, predictably, panic ensues, they can’t stop it, it mutates, and just when we think there might be a vaccine, and hope is on the horizon, wham!

The virus mutates again, and take a guess where they find the new, mutated strain, which, ontop of the already high fatality rate of the new, airborne bird flu, has left whole villages dead? Wanna guess where they found it?

No, not China, no, not Vietnam, no, not Navy Pier in Chicago, where do you ask? Well, where else do you expect?

Africa! Of course, where all good, harmful, deadly, lethal, super viruses live. Of course, it could never happen here!

And my first thought on watching this was, yeah, of course, it had to be Africa, where else? This time, the country was Angola. At the end of the movie, the viruologist, or whatever the lady was called, goes to Angola to track a rumored newly-mutated, more deadly strain of the virus, and when they get there, they find, well, pretty much, if not all of the people dead. And someone asks, and I’m not sure who, but someone asks, “Is it possible that this could have killed everyone?” And someone else says something else to the affect of, “It’s not only possible, it’s already out there.” Or something ominous like that. And then, you hear a bunch of birds or geese or something flying, and then the movie ends. I’m not exactly sure how it ended, but then there was this disclaimer talking of how there’s not been a case of the bird flu in the US, and how steps were being taken to ensure our safety, yada, yada, yada.

I guess they had to put that out there to calm any potentially frightened people down. My question is, if the bird flu isn’t airborne, how are the people getting it from the birds? What kind of close contact would you have to have with a bird to get the bird flu? I guess if you slaughtered the animal, and if blood got into an open wound, would that do it? Hmmm…

I just heard on the news, they are actually opening up a hotline to answering people’s questions tomorrow, I guess because of the movie, I don’t know. Hmmm…

The Atomic Cafe – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Assalamu alaikum / greetings, I remember seeing this movie on the Discovery Channel once, and I remember downloading some of the sound clips from www.soundamerica.com, I think it was.  I think I used to have one of my Windows sounds as the exploding atomic bomb, but I can’t remember which sound.  This was back when I had the beginning theme song to Bugs Bunny as the Windows Startup sound, and the ending theme song as the Windows Exit sound.  And I had the Super Chicken theme song for my answering machine.  Yeah, those were the days. 

Link: The Atomic Cafe – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

My Trip to The Gambia (Continued)

Assalamu alaikum, just a small disclaimer that this was written before I had any real knowledge of the Gambian political situation. Just wanted to put that out there.

ON MEETING THE HEAD OF STATE

It is the fourth week of my trip to The Gambia. As anyone who is still reading this has seen, the experiences that I have had so far have been very enlightening, and they are experiences that I will never forget. However, I have two more weeks to go here, and there is still more to tell!

Anyway, at the beginning of this fourth week in The Gambia, the group and I were informed by our professor that we would be taking a trip to meet the President of The Gambia. I was very excited about this because I have never met the President of my own country, let alone the President of any other nation. The meeting, from what I understand, was set up by GRTS (Gambia Radio and Television Service). They had come to the hotel to do some kind of video to show on TV. It was sort of like a music video, or something. At any rate, I think that their visit to us to film the video had something to do with us getting the chance to meet President Jammeh.

I must say, I knew little about President Jammeh, other than that he took over power in The Gambia, in 1994, following a bloodless coup. Aside from that, all I heard was that he seemed to be doing good things for The Gambia. Other than that, I knew very little about him.

Now, it is Thursday, the day we are going to meet President Jammeh. It is afternoon, about two o’[clock. All of the group gets on the bus, and departs from the hotel.

“Where are we going?” everyone asks. No one seems to know. Some in the group say Banjul, some say President Jammeh’s home village. I am not sure, either way, and so I don’t say anything. I am hoping we won’t be gone too long because I have elected not to take Abby with me, and I don’t want her cooped up in my room too long, without having been fed or let out to use the bathroom.

Since I didn’t know where we were going, I decided not to take Abby with me. I can just imagine how people would react to me having this big dog with me. I also didn’t want Abby to get too hot, or bored. So, I left her in my room, with a big bowl of water, and her bone. I knew she would be fine. But I very rarely leave her anywhere, and I never feel totally comfortable leaving her no matter how long it is.

At any rate, we are on the bus, heading for wherever we are heading. As the bus moves along, it becomes apparent that we are not heading for Banjul. I hear other members in the group talking of how we are going to the President’s home village, but no one seems to know the name. I wonder how far of a ride it is going to be. We stop.

“Why are we stopping?” I think to myself. Call me impatient, I know. But I wanted to just get there. We were stopped at a village. It reminded me of the villages I had seen in Senegal, during my ride to The Gambia, during my first day in Africa.

Although many of the group gets off of the bus, I choose to stay on. It just seems better, I guess. Then, everyone gets back on the bus, and we start off again.

The ride turns out to be a couple of hours, I think. I do not remember now how long the ride was. I just know that it was quite a way from Bakau. Finally, we arrive at our destination. Actually, this wasn’t the President’s home village. We find out that this is where a political rally is going to be held. I am a little apprehensive because I had read that American citizens were supposed to avoid political gatherings. However, I do not say anything. I have come all this way, on the bus, to meet the head of state, and now wasn’t the time to say anything. Besides, I didn’t want to be like some people, scared of every little thing foreign. I surmised that this would be a good opportunity to get a feel for what a Gambian political rally would be. I decided that rather than something to be scared of, this could be yet another of a host of learning experiences I have already had while visiting The Gambia.

We are off of the bus. I walk a little way, and then, I sit down with some people on a bench. People from the local area are starting to gather. I notice there are quite a few people. I listen, to try to gauge the mood of the people. Are they happy? Upset? Indifferent? I can’t quite detect the mood of the people. I can’t say for sure what the people were feeling. So I give up, and just sit.

The day begins to drag. It is hot. Thankfully, though, there is a breeze. I am glad that I wore one of my African dresses that I had bought. The dress was made of cotton, and it had embroidered designs on the front and back of it. I liked the dress because, although it was long, it allowed the air to circulate, so that you didn’t get too hot. When I first wore it, I had the thought that it was perfectly suited to the climate in The Gambia. Thus, since I was sitting outside, on this day, I was glad that I wore it because, although it was hot, it made things more bearable.

I also had other reasons for wearing it. First of all, I wanted to look nice. I say this because I didn’t think that my usual jeans and shirt seemed fitting. And to me, an African dress seemed more appropriate. Secondly, I thought that it would be fitting to wear African attire, since I was, after all, going to meet an African head of state. After arriving at the rally, though, it became apparent that my choice of dress was a good one since I would be more able to fit in better with the local people I ended up sitting with.

Finally, after a long wait, President Jammeh arrives. My group had been placed in the front row, so that when the President came around to shake everyone’s hand, we would be among the first people he came to. All of us on the bench stand up to greet him, as he makes his way down the row of people. As he gets closer to me, someone tells me to put my hand out so that he could shake it.

He comes by, shakes my hand, and he is gone. I didn’t even get to hear his voice. I wanted to hear his voice. I felt that if I could hear his voice, I could get a glimpse of his personality, the type of person he was. But to no avail. So I told myself that I would get to hear his voice when he spoke at the rally. I sit back down on the bench, and wait for him to speak.

The speech he gave wasn’t in English. He would speak, and then someone else interpreted in another language.

“Which one is his voice?” I ask.

“That one,” someone answers me, identifying the speaker, as he spoke.

“OK,” I say.

Upon hearing him, however, I didn’t know what to think. To me, his voice was nondescript. Neither friendly, nor unfriendly. I didn’t know quite what to think.

President Jammeh spoke for a while, and I wondered what he was talking about. I wondered if it was anything similar to what politicians say in America. I would never find out.

Finally, the rally was over. The group and I piled back onto the bus, and we set off again. This time, we were actually heading to the President’s home village. I was happy to be going. The rally, although I was curious as to what it was about, became boring rather quickly. I didn’t like feeling this way, since I didn’t want to show any disrespect to the local people or anything. However, one must admit that it is hard not to be bored when one doesn’t understand the language, and therefore, has no idea what is being said.

We are now in President Jammeh’s village. We all get out of the bus. I take Jennifer’s arm, and we set off.

“What is that tree?” I ask, as we pass a big tree. I can tell it is big, because it gives off a lot of shade, and I can hear the sound bouncing off of it.

“It is a baobab tree,” someone else answers.

“Can I touch it?” I ask.

Jennifer stops, shows me the tree, and I feel it. Jeff comes and walks me around the tree, to show me how big around the root system of the tree is.

I am astonished, and I am very interested in this tree. So I go on looking at it. All of a sudden, as I am in the midst of my enthrallment of this amazing thing, Jennifer pulls me away from the tree.

“There’s a big bug!” Jennifer exclaims to me.

“Oh,” I say. And we continue on to where we are going.

We walk, through a group of people, over some carpet. Some carpet! This is strange. And we are sat down on some chairs. President Jammeh, our professor tells us, is meeting with his cabinet. He would be out to meet us shortly. We are then served dinner. It is, as I would find out later, groundnut stew. However, I did not know it at the time.

After we are served dinner, we sit and wait, and finally, the President of The Gambia emerges to meet us. We all say hi to him, and he sits down. I am still trying to get a feel for who he is. With most people, it is easy. I can hear a person’s voice, and get a hint of their personality. With President Jammeh, though, I can’t. However, as he talks to our group, I do detect a sense of friendliness in his voice.

He talks to us for a while. About what, at this point, has sense become a bit vague. He says something about Bob Marley. Something about being in America. I get the feeling that he is trying to relate to us, in a strange sort of way. I still am wondering what kind of a person President Jammeh truly is. Sadly, I never get a chance to find out.

After he is finished talking, the group is given a chance to ask questions. I am trying to think of something to say, but can’t, so I decide I am not going to ask anything. Someone asks if we can get honorary Gambian passports. They ask this because during the previous year, the group was given honorary Gambian passports. President Jammeh thinks for a minute, and then says yes, he would give them to us. Everyone claps! The reason given for asking for the passports was so that members of the group could come back to The Gambia and continue to do good work here. I, for one, hoped to come back and work with blind people, to teach them skills which would allow them to become independent.

However, I later would find out that I would have to write a paper detailing what type of work I wanted to do in The Gambia, essentially, how I would use the passport if given to me. Although I wanted to write the paper, I never got around to doing it. Thus, the possibility of obtaining an honorary Gambian passport is probably no more! I do not see this necessarily as a bad thing, since I do not want something that I am beginning to feel does not belong to me. I am not a Gambian, so why should I get a Gambian passport?

Meanwhile, the meeting with President Jammeh, after the discussion about the passports is over, comes to an end. I and the group gets up, and proceeds back to the bus. People in the village are playing drums. We stop and listen to them. I am anxious to get back to the hotel because by now, it is ten o’clock, and I am worried about Abby. She has been in the room all day, and has not been fed, or let out to use the bathroom.

So we are now back on the bus. I think about the day and meeting President Jammeh. I am happy to have had this opportunity because I sense that not many people get to meet a head of state. However, I do not fail to remember that President Jammeh is just like one of us, a person. Thus, although he is President of The Gambia, he is still just a person to me, not to be put on a pedestal.

My Trip to The Gambia (Continued)

Assalamu alaikum, OK, I give up on numbering these posts, since I’ve messed up the numbering as it is.

The School for the Blind

While in The Gambia, the group was encouraged to do and see other things outside of the actual study abroad program. For example, some members of the group opted to volunteer at local schools. Before I had even left for The Gambia, I inquired as to whether or not there was a school for the blind in The Gambia. Indeed, there was! Thus, when I arrived in The Gambia, one of the things I wanted to do was visit there. I had thought of doing some sort of volunteer work, but decided against it because I felt my main obligation was to the program. Also, I didn’t want to make commitments outside of the study abroad program which I couldn’t keep, and by so doing, upset the people I had committed to helping.

I say all of this mainly because on many occasions, things would come up unexpectedly having to do with the program, and thus, some of the group would not be able to fulfill some obligations they had promised to the schools or groups they were volunteering for.

While I was in Nemakunku, I met a blind man there who worked at Gamtel. He had attended the school for the blind, and there was even an organization in The Gambia, known as the Gambian Organization for the Visually Impaired. In fact, the school for the blind I wanted to visit was run by this organization. After talking to the man, he agreed to put me in touch with the director of the school so that I could come for a visit.

So, on the Monday after returning from the village, the director, a woman, gave me a call. Sadly, I do not remember the woman’s name. We talked for a while, and we set up a time she could come and see me. She came to the hotel on Wednesday, at around 5 in the afternoon. I felt a little nervous waiting for her to arrive, though I am not sure why.

When she finally arrived, I showed her the Braille paper I had brought with me to give to the school. I also told her about Abby and how I got her. Other than that, we just talked about anything, in general, and now I can’t remember exactly what we talked about. As she got ready to leave, though, we agreed that I would come and visit the next day around noon.

The next day came, and Jennifer and I left the hotel and took a taxi to Banjul, to the Campama Primary School, where the school for the blind was located. Upon arriving, the woman said hi to me, and all of the children in the room said hello to me as well. They then sang a welcome song for me and Jennifer. I then went around introducing myself to all of the kids.

One of the things they wanted most to see was Abby. They had heard of dog guides but had never seen one before! So I let them come and touch Abby’s harness, although normally, one should not pet a working dog while they are in their harness. However, in this particular case, I was willing to make an exception. The children really seemed to enjoy it. Abby, on the other hand, seemed confused. I don’t think she could understand why all these people were touching her while she was in harness. However, she did really well! And I think she did understand, in some way, what was going on.

While I was at the school, I got to meet some of the teachers as well. The Campama Primary School, including the school for the blind, comprised a two-story building. The ground level was for the school for the blind, and the top level had classrooms where regular students attended class.

The way I understand it, the system works this way. The younger blind children would be taught downstairs. There, they would be taught Braille and other special skills such as mobility. When the children got older, they would move upstairs and would be taught in a regular classroom setting. A person from downstairs, would sit with them in the class to read to them what was written on the board, or describe to them anything visually that they might need described. I liked this system a lot, mainly because it sought to integrate the blind children in with other students.

From what I saw, it seemed that the blind school was doing the best job they could to teach the students with the best that they had. When I asked if they were affiliated with any organizations outside of The Gambia, I was told that they were working with, and had sent students to, the Perkins Institute for the Blind, in Massachusetts. I thought it a good thing that these two schools were working together because they could exchange ideas and help each other if they needed it.

Finally, it was time for my visit to end. I really enjoyed it, and wanted to come back, although I wasn’t sure if I would be able to. At this time, I gave them the Braille paper that I brought with me. I wasn’t sure what else to bring, when packing for my trip at home. I thought about bringing canes with me, but canes have to be fitted to the person’s height, and I didn’t want to bring canes that were too long or short for the students to use. Besides, I thought that Braille paper would be good since every blind person who reads and writes Braille can use Braille paper, and plenty of it!

At this point, I and Jennifer got into a van and was taken to the main office of the Gambian Organization for the Visually Impaired, and from there, we took a taxi back to the hotel.

I wanted, and still want to do, volunteer work there. However, I do not want to impose what I think should be taught to the students on the people who are doing the teaching there. Thus, I decided that the best thing would be to try to gather materials to send to the school that the students might need. It seems to me that the two most important things to send would be Braille paper and canes. On the subject of canes and mobility, I was happy to hear that orientation and mobility was being taught and that there were blind people who were able to move about freely. For example, the director of the school told me that she knew of some people living in Banjul who had attended the school who were able to get around independently.

As I have said before, the school for the blind in The Gambia is doing the best job they can do with what they have. You might not walk in and find all the latest adaptive technology or blindness-related products, but should that be a gauge as to how well of a job the teachers are doing in teaching the students? No, it definitely should not.

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Eight!

THE VILLAGE

One of the requirements of the study abroad program that I went through in The Gambia is that we have what is called a home stay. This is where we spend some time in one of the villages in the Gambia. By doing this, we can actually see how the people in these villages live, and thus, we can get a better understanding of what goes on in their daily lives.

I and the rest of the group were to spend a week in Nemakunku, one of the villages, and we were to leave Saturday, June 5. This would be just over a week after arriving in The Gambia.

The day starts as normal, getting up, eating breakfast. But then, I have to get some things together to take with me to Nemakunku, as I will not be coming back to the hotel until the end of the home stay. Thus, I am taking as little as possible, but enough things so as not to be in need of anything while I am there. This is not hard for me to do, as I am used to packing for things. So getting ready to go was no problem.

At about eleven in the morning, the group sets off. The ride to Nemakunku really wasn’t that far. I was surprised, since the way some of the group who had been to The Gambia before talked, they made it seem as though it was going to be a long journey.

Upon arriving in Nemakunku, everyone in the group is assigned to a family to stay with. Although I originally wasn’t going to, I ended up staying with Jennifer and the family she stayed with the year before. I felt more comfortable this way, as I wouldn’t be burdening the family with anything that I might need, such as taking Abby to the bathroom, or me trying to get somewhere. Thus, I chose to stay with Jennifer.

Being in Nemakunku was a very enlightening experience. Having said that, though, I am not sure if that is quite how to describe it. I say this because if a person goes to The Gambia, strictly as a tourist, then they do not get a real sense of how the people live, and that is a shame. Because of this, many tourists who come to The Gambia are out of touch with the local people.

Look at it this way. If you go to The Gambia, stay in a nice hotel with all the amenities, and you stay as close to the hotel as possible, then upon returning to wherever you live, what would you have to say about and how would you have benefited the local people you have left behind?

What I am saying is that, for me, the best part about being in The Gambia was interacting and spending time with the people. Thus, I say the stay in Nemakunku was an enlightening experience.

One of the things that Jennifer and I did during the first day in Nemakunku, was talk to Abdoulie, one of the people we were staying with. I really didn’t say much, since they knew each other from the year before, and they talked of people and things I didn’t know anything about. Thus, I just sat and listened to them. After that, we were off to some gathering that the village was having. I am not sure what kind of gathering it was going to be, I just knew we were going.

The gathering was in this room, where all of the sides of it were open to the outside. I am not sure how to describe it. It had the layout of a garage or something like that. There, everyone sat down on mats, and some women began passing out large trays of rice with meat in it. All you had to do to get some of it was take your hand and scoop some food up and eat it.

I enjoyed this. At least I knew what I was getting before I put it in my mouth. No surprises here, unlike with forks and spoons. This is a great way of eating if you are blind!

The people who were sitting with me were very helpful as far as showing me where the tray was and helping me to get as much food as I could. One person tried to pile more food into my hand after I had already scooped some out. I thanked them and said that I didn’t want anymore, since I couldn’t put it all in my mouth. After I was finished eating, a lady took me to some water, and helped me wash my hands.

After that, I just sat on the mat and listened to the people. I like to do that. Just sit and listen to people, not to eavesdrop, but just to get a feel for people and what they are thinking and feeling. Then, Jennifer came over to me and asked me if I wanted to go back to Abdoulie’s house.

“Aren’t we supposed to stay here?” I asked her.

“We can either stay here, or go back,” she said to me.

“I would like to go back,” I said to her. “Abby is there, and I want to check on her. It is about time for her to eat anyway.”

So at this, we started back. However, unlike coming to the gathering where we took a taxi, we walked back to the village this time. I am not sure why, but I liked the walk, nonetheless.

Upon Entering Nemakunku, Jennifer and I decided that I would ride on her back, just to watch people’s reactions. We did not mean any harm by doing this. It is just that I am so thin that just about anyone who weighs more than me can carry me, and we just wanted to do it for fun. Just to see people laughing at us, which they did.

When we got to Abdoulie’s house, Malang (from the ice cream shop) was waiting for us, and he had Abby with him. Abdoulie had let him into the house to get Abby. I was so happy because I was afraid that Abby would get too hot in the house.

So I fed Abby, took her to the bathroom, and sat down to watch Malang play soccer with some boys. I wanted someone to teach me to play, but I didn’t know the first thing about soccer, except that there was a ball involved, and no one knew how to explain the game to me. Besides, from what I understand, you have to be able to see the ball to play, and obviously, I cannot do that.

The rest of that first day was spent talking to people and getting settled in. Although my group only ended up staying for four days instead of the week we were going to, it was, nonetheless, a time in which I enjoyed being there.

During the next few days, three events happened which are still vivid in my mind. The first happened the first night we were there. I was getting ready for bed when I heard a noise outside. At first I didn’t know what it was, then, I listened. It was wind, and it sounded like a lot of it. Then, I heard the sound of mangoes falling on the roof. I did not know what was going on at first, but it didn’t take me long to figure it out. When Abdoulie and Malang came in, they told me it was going to rain. This was exciting to me because my professor told me I probably wouldn’t see rain while I was in The Gambia. Also, I like it when the weather changes. It makes things more interesting.

Anyway, when it finally started to rain, which wasn’t long after everyone came in, it rained hard! I was glad of this because it would cool things off a little. Also, I knew that the sound of the rain would put me to sleep.

The second thing that left a lasting impression on me happened the second day, Sunday, while I was at Nemakunku. This event was learning how to bathe with a bucket. Really, there wasn’t much to learn for me. I had to do this one summer a few years ago when my family and I were getting our kitchen and bathroom remodeled. So this was not really anything new. However, it made an impression on me because some in the group did not feel comfortable bathing this way, and it irritated me because my feeling was that if the people here in Nemakunku could do this, then there was no reason why we couldn’t, just for a few days, do this as well. It should be said here that it wasn’t the fact that people were uncomfortable with certain aspects of staying in Nemakunku, it was the attitude with which they voiced their concerns. It was as if they were saying, “I’m too good for this” or something like that.

The third event that I remember is more of an event, really, than the first two. This happened the third day in Nemakunku. Jennifer, Abby, and I were walking back to Abdoulie’s house from somewhere else. Abby, for some reason, was not on her leash. She was just calmly walking behind Jennifer and I. All of a sudden, Abby ran across the small road we were walking along, and I didn’t know why she had done that. All of a sudden, I heard a baby chicken peeping loudly, and I knew what had happened. Abby was chasing the chicken!

“Abby!” I yelled frantically at her.

I had horrible visions in my head of Abby eating the chicken, and I didn’t want her to do that! When I called for Abby, I could hear her stop, and ever so slowly turn around and begin walking back toward Jennifer and I. It was as if Abby was saying, “Oops, I shouldn’t have done that! I am in deep trouble now!”

Thus, the impending disaster was averted, and Abby, Jennifer, and I proceeded back to Abdoulie’s house.
Thus, though my stay in Nemakunku was short, it was eventful, just the same.

My Trip to The Gambia- Part Seven.

The Ice Cream Shop

Anyone who knows me knows I love ice cream. One of my first questions, when talking to my professor about coming to The Gambia, was whether or not they had ice cream! Not that whether or not I came to The Gambia hinged on whether they had ice cream or not, I just wanted to know if they had it. Indeed, they did! And one of the things I wanted to do once I got settled in was to find the ice cream place and sample some of the flavors there.

So, when deciding what to do after dinner on Tuesday, the day after I went to the club, it didn’t take long for me to come up with an idea!

“Let’s go to the ice cream place,” I suggest to Jennifer.

“OK,” Jennifer says to me. “We will do that on the way to Abdul’s house.”

“We are going to Abdul’s house?” I ask. “Yes, Abdul invited us there. We can go and listen to music.”

I didn’t think that would be a bad idea. One will find that you can lure me just about anywhere with the promise of ice cream and music. So I endeavor to go.

The ice cream place, of which I do not remember the name, is right across the street from the American Embassy. So anyone who wants to visit it in the future, that is where it is. So, if you are in Bakau, it is wise to take a taxi to get there. So that is what we do. At this point, it is Jennifer, Abdul, Joe Boogie, and Malang. Where Lamin is, I am not sure.

So now we are at the ice cream place. We get out of the taxi and go inside. It is air-conditioned, and it feels nice.

Another thing I have learned to do while on the smiling coast is to not take anything for granted. Things like air-conditioning, which in America is almost expected, especially in the summertime, is a luxury here in Africa. So, if you go into a building that has the precious luxury known as cool air, you learn to appreciate it. Especially when you are holding a big chocolate ice cream cone in your hand.

I am in the middle of eating my ice cream, when Jennifer tells me it is time to go. We are going over to Abdul’s house.

“I am not finished with my ice cream,” I say to her.

“That is OK, you can finish it on the way in the taxi,” Jennifer says to me.

“Then, you better get plenty of napkins because you know it is going to drip all over the place once we get out in the heat,” I say to her. “You know I can’t eat it that fast.”

We leave the ice cream shop, find a taxi, and get in. As we are going down the road, I am struggling with my much-anticipated ice cream cone. It is hard to eat it because of the bumpy roads, and, as I had feared, the ice cream began dripping down my arm, and I tried as hard as I could to keep it from dripping onto the seat of the taxi. Because of this, I practically had to gulp the entire cone down, eating the ice cream as fast as I could.

I didn’t make as big of a mess as I could have, though, and the napkins did a good enough job of cleaning up what little mess I had made.

So we get to Abdul’s house, and thankfully, I have finished my ice cream cone. I get out of the taxi, along with everyone else, and we go inside the house.

Abdul has his radio with him. It is one of those portable radios with a double cassette deck and a CD player. He has a bunch of tapes with him. But he doesn’t have any reggae with him, just mostly hip hop and R&B.

To my great surprise, I know most of the songs. He has Mary J. Blige! Isn’t that funny! I come all the way over to Africa, and hear Mary J. Blige! I am in total disbelief!

It is at this stage, when I am going totally crazy about the fact that I am hearing a lot of the same music that I have heard in America, that Malang comes over and sits down to talk to me. Why he has chosen to do that, I am not sure. I am wondering if he thinks I am totally crazy.

“Just another one of those crazy tourists,” I am wondering if he is thinking.

But no. Malang not only sits down and talks to me, but seems to enjoy seeing me go crazy about hearing American music in Africa.

I say to him, “This is the Mary J. Blige remix CD, the one that came out after her first album! I have this CD at home. I cannot believe this!”

I spend the rest of the evening talking to Malang, which is turning out to be one of the most enjoyable conversations I have had since arriving in Africa. When I tell him how much I love ice cream, he offers to take me back to the ice cream shop some other time. And this time, I can eat it at the shop. I won’t have to go anywhere else. And hopefully this time, I won’t make a mess!

My Trip to The Gambia (Continued)

Assalamu alaikum, just a small disclaimer that this was written before I had any real knowledge of the Gambian political situation. Just wanted to put that out there.

ON MEETING THE HEAD OF STATE

It is the fourth week of my trip to The Gambia. As anyone who is still reading this has seen, the experiences that I have had so far have been very enlightening, and they are experiences that I will never forget. However, I have two more weeks to go here, and there is still more to tell!

Anyway, at the beginning of this fourth week in The Gambia, the group and I were informed by our professor that we would be taking a trip to meet the President of The Gambia. I was very excited about this because I have never met the President of my own country, let alone the President of any other nation. The meeting, from what I understand, was set up by GRTS (Gambia Radio and Television Service). They had come to the hotel to do some kind of video to show on TV. It was sort of like a music video, or something. At any rate, I think that their visit to us to film the video had something to do with us getting the chance to meet President Jammeh.

I must say, I knew little about President Jammeh, other than that he took over power in The Gambia, in 1994, following a bloodless coup. Aside from that, all I heard was that he seemed to be doing good things for The Gambia. Other than that, I knew very little about him.

Now, it is Thursday, the day we are going to meet President Jammeh. It is afternoon, about two o’[clock. All of the group gets on the bus, and departs from the hotel.

“Where are we going?” everyone asks. No one seems to know. Some in the group say Banjul, some say President Jammeh’s home village. I am not sure, either way, and so I don’t say anything. I am hoping we won’t be gone too long because I have elected not to take Abby with me, and I don’t want her cooped up in my room too long, without having been fed or let out to use the bathroom.

Since I didn’t know where we were going, I decided not to take Abby with me. I can just imagine how people would react to me having this big dog with me. I also didn’t want Abby to get too hot, or bored. So, I left her in my room, with a big bowl of water, and her bone. I knew she would be fine. But I very rarely leave her anywhere, and I never feel totally comfortable leaving her no matter how long it is.

At any rate, we are on the bus, heading for wherever we are heading. As the bus moves along, it becomes apparent that we are not heading for Banjul. I hear other members in the group talking of how we are going to the President’s home village, but no one seems to know the name. I wonder how far of a ride it is going to be. We stop.

“Why are we stopping?” I think to myself. Call me impatient, I know. But I wanted to just get there. We were stopped at a village. It reminded me of the villages I had seen in Senegal, during my ride to The Gambia, during my first day in Africa.

Although many of the group gets off of the bus, I choose to stay on. It just seems better, I guess. Then, everyone gets back on the bus, and we start off again.

The ride turns out to be a couple of hours, I think. I do not remember now how long the ride was. I just know that it was quite a way from Bakau. Finally, we arrive at our destination. Actually, this wasn’t the President’s home village. We find out that this is where a political rally is going to be held. I am a little apprehensive because I had read that American citizens were supposed to avoid political gatherings. However, I do not say anything. I have come all this way, on the bus, to meet the head of state, and now wasn’t the time to say anything. Besides, I didn’t want to be like some people, scared of every little thing foreign. I surmised that this would be a good opportunity to get a feel for what a Gambian political rally would be. I decided that rather than something to be scared of, this could be yet another of a host of learning experiences I have already had while visiting The Gambia.

We are off of the bus. I walk a little way, and then, I sit down with some people on a bench. People from the local area are starting to gather. I notice there are quite a few people. I listen, to try to gauge the mood of the people. Are they happy? Upset? Indifferent? I can’t quite detect the mood of the people. I can’t say for sure what the people were feeling. So I give up, and just sit.

The day begins to drag. It is hot. Thankfully, though, there is a breeze. I am glad that I wore one of my African dresses that I had bought. The dress was made of cotton, and it had embroidered designs on the front and back of it. I liked the dress because, although it was long, it allowed the air to circulate, so that you didn’t get too hot. When I first wore it, I had the thought that it was perfectly suited to the climate in The Gambia. Thus, since I was sitting outside, on this day, I was glad that I wore it because, although it was hot, it made things more bearable.

I also had other reasons for wearing it. First of all, I wanted to look nice. I say this because I didn’t think that my usual jeans and shirt seemed fitting. And to me, an African dress seemed more appropriate. Secondly, I thought that it would be fitting to wear African attire, since I was, after all, going to meet an African head of state. After arriving at the rally, though, it became apparent that my choice of dress was a good one since I would be more able to fit in better with the local people I ended up sitting with.

Finally, after a long wait, President Jammeh arrives. My group had been placed in the front row, so that when the President came around to shake everyone’s hand, we would be among the first people he came to. All of us on the bench stand up to greet him, as he makes his way down the row of people. As he gets closer to me, someone tells me to put my hand out so that he could shake it.

He comes by, shakes my hand, and he is gone. I didn’t even get to hear his voice. I wanted to hear his voice. I felt that if I could hear his voice, I could get a glimpse of his personality, the type of person he was. But to no avail. So I told myself that I would get to hear his voice when he spoke at the rally. I sit back down on the bench, and wait for him to speak.

The speech he gave wasn’t in English. He would speak, and then someone else interpreted in another language.

“Which one is his voice?” I ask.

“That one,” someone answers me, identifying the speaker, as he spoke.

“OK,” I say.

Upon hearing him, however, I didn’t know what to think. To me, his voice was nondescript. Neither friendly, nor unfriendly. I didn’t know quite what to think.

President Jammeh spoke for a while, and I wondered what he was talking about. I wondered if it was anything similar to what politicians say in America. I would never find out.

Finally, the rally was over. The group and I piled back onto the bus, and we set off again. This time, we were actually heading to the President’s home village. I was happy to be going. The rally, although I was curious as to what it was about, became boring rather quickly. I didn’t like feeling this way, since I didn’t want to show any disrespect to the local people or anything. However, one must admit that it is hard not to be bored when one doesn’t understand the language, and therefore, has no idea what is being said.

We are now in President Jammeh’s village. We all get out of the bus. I take Jennifer’s arm, and we set off.

“What is that tree?” I ask, as we pass a big tree. I can tell it is big, because it gives off a lot of shade, and I can hear the sound bouncing off of it.

“It is a baobab tree,” someone else answers.

“Can I touch it?” I ask.

Jennifer stops, shows me the tree, and I feel it. Jeff comes and walks me around the tree, to show me how big around the root system of the tree is.

I am astonished, and I am very interested in this tree. So I go on looking at it. All of a sudden, as I am in the midst of my enthrallment of this amazing thing, Jennifer pulls me away from the tree.

“There’s a big bug!” Jennifer exclaims to me.

“Oh,” I say. And we continue on to where we are going.

We walk, through a group of people, over some carpet. Some carpet! This is strange. And we are sat down on some chairs. President Jammeh, our professor tells us, is meeting with his cabinet. He would be out to meet us shortly. We are then served dinner. It is, as I would find out later, groundnut stew. However, I did not know it at the time.

After we are served dinner, we sit and wait, and finally, the President of The Gambia emerges to meet us. We all say hi to him, and he sits down. I am still trying to get a feel for who he is. With most people, it is easy. I can hear a person’s voice, and get a hint of their personality. With President Jammeh, though, I can’t. However, as he talks to our group, I do detect a sense of friendliness in his voice.

He talks to us for a while. About what, at this point, has sense become a bit vague. He says something about Bob Marley. Something about being in America. I get the feeling that he is trying to relate to us, in a strange sort of way. I still am wondering what kind of a person President Jammeh truly is. Sadly, I never get a chance to find out.

After he is finished talking, the group is given a chance to ask questions. I am trying to think of something to say, but can’t, so I decide I am not going to ask anything. Someone asks if we can get honorary Gambian passports. They ask this because during the previous year, the group was given honorary Gambian passports. President Jammeh thinks for a minute, and then says yes, he would give them to us. Everyone claps! The reason given for asking for the passports was so that members of the group could come back to The Gambia and continue to do good work here. I, for one, hoped to come back and work with blind people, to teach them skills which would allow them to become independent.

However, I later would find out that I would have to write a paper detailing what type of work I wanted to do in The Gambia, essentially, how I would use the passport if given to me. Although I wanted to write the paper, I never got around to doing it. Thus, the possibility of obtaining an honorary Gambian passport is probably no more! I do not see this necessarily as a bad thing, since I do not want something that I am beginning to feel does not belong to me. I am not a Gambian, so why should I get a Gambian passport?

Meanwhile, the meeting with President Jammeh, after the discussion about the passports is over, comes to an end. I and the group gets up, and proceeds back to the bus. People in the village are playing drums. We stop and listen to them. I am anxious to get back to the hotel because by now, it is ten o’clock, and I am worried about Abby. She has been in the room all day, and has not been fed, or let out to use the bathroom.

So we are now back on the bus. I think about the day and meeting President Jammeh. I am happy to have had this opportunity because I sense that not many people get to meet a head of state. However, I do not fail to remember that President Jammeh is just like one of us, a person. Thus, although he is President of The Gambia, he is still just a person to me, not to be put on a pedestal.

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Eight!

THE VILLAGE

One of the requirements of the study abroad program that I went through in The Gambia is that we have what is called a home stay. This is where we spend some time in one of the villages in the Gambia. By doing this, we can actually see how the people in these villages live, and thus, we can get a better understanding of what goes on in their daily lives.

I and the rest of the group were to spend a week in Nemakunku, one of the villages, and we were to leave Saturday, June 5. This would be just over a week after arriving in The Gambia.

The day starts as normal, getting up, eating breakfast. But then, I have to get some things together to take with me to Nemakunku, as I will not be coming back to the hotel until the end of the home stay. Thus, I am taking as little as possible, but enough things so as not to be in need of anything while I am there. This is not hard for me to do, as I am used to packing for things. So getting ready to go was no problem.

At about eleven in the morning, the group sets off. The ride to Nemakunku really wasn’t that far. I was surprised, since the way some of the group who had been to The Gambia before talked, they made it seem as though it was going to be a long journey.

Upon arriving in Nemakunku, everyone in the group is assigned to a family to stay with. Although I originally wasn’t going to, I ended up staying with Jennifer and the family she stayed with the year before. I felt more comfortable this way, as I wouldn’t be burdening the family with anything that I might need, such as taking Abby to the bathroom, or me trying to get somewhere. Thus, I chose to stay with Jennifer.

Being in Nemakunku was a very enlightening experience. Having said that, though, I am not sure if that is quite how to describe it. I say this because if a person goes to The Gambia, strictly as a tourist, then they do not get a real sense of how the people live, and that is a shame. Because of this, many tourists who come to The Gambia are out of touch with the local people.

Look at it this way. If you go to The Gambia, stay in a nice hotel with all the amenities, and you stay as close to the hotel as possible, then upon returning to wherever you live, what would you have to say about and how would you have benefited the local people you have left behind?

What I am saying is that, for me, the best part about being in The Gambia was interacting and spending time with the people. Thus, I say the stay in Nemakunku was an enlightening experience.

One of the things that Jennifer and I did during the first day in Nemakunku, was talk to Abdoulie, one of the people we were staying with. I really didn’t say much, since they knew each other from the year before, and they talked of people and things I didn’t know anything about. Thus, I just sat and listened to them. After that, we were off to some gathering that the village was having. I am not sure what kind of gathering it was going to be, I just knew we were going.

The gathering was in this room, where all of the sides of it were open to the outside. I am not sure how to describe it. It had the layout of a garage or something like that. There, everyone sat down on mats, and some women began passing out large trays of rice with meat in it. All you had to do to get some of it was take your hand and scoop some food up and eat it.

I enjoyed this. At least I knew what I was getting before I put it in my mouth. No surprises here, unlike with forks and spoons. This is a great way of eating if you are blind!

The people who were sitting with me were very helpful as far as showing me where the tray was and helping me to get as much food as I could. One person tried to pile more food into my hand after I had already scooped some out. I thanked them and said that I didn’t want anymore, since I couldn’t put it all in my mouth. After I was finished eating, a lady took me to some water, and helped me wash my hands.

After that, I just sat on the mat and listened to the people. I like to do that. Just sit and listen to people, not to eavesdrop, but just to get a feel for people and what they are thinking and feeling. Then, Jennifer came over to me and asked me if I wanted to go back to Abdoulie’s house.

“Aren’t we supposed to stay here?” I asked her.

“We can either stay here, or go back,” she said to me.

“I would like to go back,” I said to her. “Abby is there, and I want to check on her. It is about time for her to eat anyway.”

So at this, we started back. However, unlike coming to the gathering where we took a taxi, we walked back to the village this time. I am not sure why, but I liked the walk, nonetheless.

Upon Entering Nemakunku, Jennifer and I decided that I would ride on her back, just to watch people’s reactions. We did not mean any harm by doing this. It is just that I am so thin that just about anyone who weighs more than me can carry me, and we just wanted to do it for fun. Just to see people laughing at us, which they did.

When we got to Abdoulie’s house, Malang (from the ice cream shop) was waiting for us, and he had Abby with him. Abdoulie had let him into the house to get Abby. I was so happy because I was afraid that Abby would get too hot in the house.

So I fed Abby, took her to the bathroom, and sat down to watch Malang play soccer with some boys. I wanted someone to teach me to play, but I didn’t know the first thing about soccer, except that there was a ball involved, and no one knew how to explain the game to me. Besides, from what I understand, you have to be able to see the ball to play, and obviously, I cannot do that.

The rest of that first day was spent talking to people and getting settled in. Although my group only ended up staying for four days instead of the week we were going to, it was, nonetheless, a time in which I enjoyed being there.

During the next few days, three events happened which are still vivid in my mind. The first happened the first night we were there. I was getting ready for bed when I heard a noise outside. At first I didn’t know what it was, then, I listened. It was wind, and it sounded like a lot of it. Then, I heard the sound of mangoes falling on the roof. I did not know what was going on at first, but it didn’t take me long to figure it out. When Abdoulie and Malang came in, they told me it was going to rain. This was exciting to me because my professor told me I probably wouldn’t see rain while I was in The Gambia. Also, I like it when the weather changes. It makes things more interesting.

Anyway, when it finally started to rain, which wasn’t long after everyone came in, it rained hard! I was glad of this because it would cool things off a little. Also, I knew that the sound of the rain would put me to sleep.

The second thing that left a lasting impression on me happened the second day, Sunday, while I was at Nemakunku. This event was learning how to bathe with a bucket. Really, there wasn’t much to learn for me. I had to do this one summer a few years ago when my family and I were getting our kitchen and bathroom remodeled. So this was not really anything new. However, it made an impression on me because some in the group did not feel comfortable bathing this way, and it irritated me because my feeling was that if the people here in Nemakunku could do this, then there was no reason why we couldn’t, just for a few days, do this as well. It should be said here that it wasn’t the fact that people were uncomfortable with certain aspects of staying in Nemakunku, it was the attitude with which they voiced their concerns. It was as if they were saying, “I’m too good for this” or something like that.

The third event that I remember is more of an event, really, than the first two. This happened the third day in Nemakunku. Jennifer, Abby, and I were walking back to Abdoulie’s house from somewhere else. Abby, for some reason, was not on her leash. She was just calmly walking behind Jennifer and I. All of a sudden, Abby ran across the small road we were walking along, and I didn’t know why she had done that. All of a sudden, I heard a baby chicken peeping loudly, and I knew what had happened. Abby was chasing the chicken!

“Abby!” I yelled frantically at her.

I had horrible visions in my head of Abby eating the chicken, and I didn’t want her to do that! When I called for Abby, I could hear her stop, and ever so slowly turn around and begin walking back toward Jennifer and I. It was as if Abby was saying, “Oops, I shouldn’t have done that! I am in deep trouble now!”

Thus, the impending disaster was averted, and Abby, Jennifer, and I proceeded back to Abdoulie’s house.
Thus, though my stay in Nemakunku was short, it was eventful, just the same.

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Six!

Assalamu alaikum, keep in mind, guys, that this is pre-Islam, so yeah, Ginny went to the club, OK?! So don’t jump down my throat. I’d thought about not posting this section of the story, but it’s part of the story, so I didn’t feel right leaving it out.

The Club

It is later on in the evening of the same day that I finally received my luggage. I am again trying to decide what I want to do. Jennifer suggests going with her to the club, which I decide to do.

“Why not?” I think to myself.

I had been to the club once before, with Regina, who was also with our group. I knew her from before the trip to The Gambia because she lived in the same dormitory as I did at school. We had been to the club the night before, I think it was. And I had a really good time. So, I decided that I would go again.

So I set off with a whole group of people. Jennifer, Lamin, Abdul, Joe Boogie and Malang. Malang is someone I haven’t mentioned before since this day was the first day I had met him. Jennifer had introduced him to me, earlier. I was glad he was coming as well. I knew everyone else in the group fairly well, and I was glad he was coming as well, since he was someone new to talk to. The more, the merrier, as they say.

So, we walk through the streets, past compounds, and to the section of the town where there is many small clubs, all right there together. I can tell because you can here the music a long way before you get to them. I think to myself that if I lived here, I could find this place all by myself just because of the music.

We pick a club and go in. It is one of those places where you can get in for free, but you have to pay for a drink if you want it. That is fine with me, as I didn’t really want to spend any money at this point.

I sit down at a table with everyone else, and Jennifer gets me a Coke to drink. It is actually nice and cold, and since it is still hot, the Coke is very refreshing. Sounds just like the commercial, doesn’t it?

This club, like many others along this street, is playing mostly reggae music, with some hip hop thrown in. I am glad because it is not the same rehash of music that I here in America. It is a nice change from what I am used to. Isn’t that the reason I am even in The Gambia in the first place? To learn, to see the people, their culture? So I didn’t expect it to be like America, and I didn’t want it to be.

Abdul comes over, and persuades me to dance with him. So I do, and I have a lot of fun. Jennifer is laughing at me, teasing me because I am dancing with Abdul.

When I am not dancing with Abdul, I am talking to Malang. As I said before, Malang is a new addition to our little group which, up until now, consisted of Jennifer, Lamin, Joe Boogie, Abdul, and myself. So I talk to Malang, about what I do not now remember. He doesn’t say much, since he seems to be more of a listener than a talker.

After a while, though, Abdul and Malang leave, and it is just Jennifer, Lamin, Joe Boogie, and I remaining.

We stay for a while, listen to more music, and finally, decide to leave. It is hot, and some fresh air is sounding really nice right about now.

We all get up and leave, walk around a little while, and sit down outside. I see my professor, and he teases me about being out.

Then, Jennifer and I leave and head back to the hotel. I want to do some reading before I go to bed, and I don’t want to be out too late since I have class again the next day. Maybe the next weekend, I will spend a little more time out.

My Trip to The Gambia- Part Seven.

The Ice Cream Shop

Anyone who knows me knows I love ice cream. One of my first questions, when talking to my professor about coming to The Gambia, was whether or not they had ice cream! Not that whether or not I came to The Gambia hinged on whether they had ice cream or not, I just wanted to know if they had it. Indeed, they did! And one of the things I wanted to do once I got settled in was to find the ice cream place and sample some of the flavors there.

So, when deciding what to do after dinner on Tuesday, the day after I went to the club, it didn’t take long for me to come up with an idea!

“Let’s go to the ice cream place,” I suggest to Jennifer.

“OK,” Jennifer says to me. “We will do that on the way to Abdul’s house.”

“We are going to Abdul’s house?” I ask. “Yes, Abdul invited us there. We can go and listen to music.”

I didn’t think that would be a bad idea. One will find that you can lure me just about anywhere with the promise of ice cream and music. So I endeavor to go.

The ice cream place, of which I do not remember the name, is right across the street from the American Embassy. So anyone who wants to visit it in the future, that is where it is. So, if you are in Bakau, it is wise to take a taxi to get there. So that is what we do. At this point, it is Jennifer, Abdul, Joe Boogie, and Malang. Where Lamin is, I am not sure.

So now we are at the ice cream place. We get out of the taxi and go inside. It is air-conditioned, and it feels nice.

Another thing I have learned to do while on the smiling coast is to not take anything for granted. Things like air-conditioning, which in America is almost expected, especially in the summertime, is a luxury here in Africa. So, if you go into a building that has the precious luxury known as cool air, you learn to appreciate it. Especially when you are holding a big chocolate ice cream cone in your hand.

I am in the middle of eating my ice cream, when Jennifer tells me it is time to go. We are going over to Abdul’s house.

“I am not finished with my ice cream,” I say to her.

“That is OK, you can finish it on the way in the taxi,” Jennifer says to me.

“Then, you better get plenty of napkins because you know it is going to drip all over the place once we get out in the heat,” I say to her. “You know I can’t eat it that fast.”

We leave the ice cream shop, find a taxi, and get in. As we are going down the road, I am struggling with my much-anticipated ice cream cone. It is hard to eat it because of the bumpy roads, and, as I had feared, the ice cream began dripping down my arm, and I tried as hard as I could to keep it from dripping onto the seat of the taxi. Because of this, I practically had to gulp the entire cone down, eating the ice cream as fast as I could.

I didn’t make as big of a mess as I could have, though, and the napkins did a good enough job of cleaning up what little mess I had made.

So we get to Abdul’s house, and thankfully, I have finished my ice cream cone. I get out of the taxi, along with everyone else, and we go inside the house.

Abdul has his radio with him. It is one of those portable radios with a double cassette deck and a CD player. He has a bunch of tapes with him. But he doesn’t have any reggae with him, just mostly hip hop and R&B.

To my great surprise, I know most of the songs. He has Mary J. Blige! Isn’t that funny! I come all the way over to Africa, and hear Mary J. Blige! I am in total disbelief!

It is at this stage, when I am going totally crazy about the fact that I am hearing a lot of the same music that I have heard in America, that Malang comes over and sits down to talk to me. Why he has chosen to do that, I am not sure. I am wondering if he thinks I am totally crazy.

“Just another one of those crazy tourists,” I am wondering if he is thinking.

But no. Malang not only sits down and talks to me, but seems to enjoy seeing me go crazy about hearing American music in Africa.

I say to him, “This is the Mary J. Blige remix CD, the one that came out after her first album! I have this CD at home. I cannot believe this!”

I spend the rest of the evening talking to Malang, which is turning out to be one of the most enjoyable conversations I have had since arriving in Africa. When I tell him how much I love ice cream, he offers to take me back to the ice cream shop some other time. And this time, I can eat it at the shop. I won’t have to go anywhere else. And hopefully this time, I won’t make a mess!

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Five!

Assalamu alaikum / greetings, below is the “expect the unexpected” comment which got me into trouble with some. Sorry.

Our Luggage!

It is Monday, May 31. We have finished our first day of class. I am told that there is a possibility that we might be getting our luggage back. I am happy about that, since I had resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be seeing my stuff again. I was happy about the possible pleasant surprise. I say possible because in my short time in Africa, I have been told to expect the unexpected. I have also been told that you can never plan on anything. It seems that if you think something is going to happen one way, it happens in a completely different way in which you would have anticipated. And it doesn’t help to get upset about it either. You just have to take it in stride, go with the flow, and have fun. Not that this advice is meant to be an insult to Africa and African people, rather it is meant to let the traveler from America or Europe know that they cannot expect things in Africa to work the way they do at home. Indeed, as stated above, the goal is to have a good time and enjoy oneself, and to not let unexpected events make the trip any less enjoyable.

So I am told we are supposed to meet at the front of the hotel at three o’clock. We are going to go to the Air Afrique office and find out where our luggage is.

So, I and the rest of the group are all on the bus. It is hot outside, as is normal this time of year on the smiling coast. Our first destination is Banjul, where we are going at this point, I am not sure. At first, we go to some office, my professor talks to some people, and all thirty or so of us in the group, file out again.

We are now out in the street. One of the guys in the group has given me a hat to put on my head, since the top of it has become sun-burned, and is starting to hurt. We all keep walking. I wonder where we are going now, but I don’t ask. We finally end up in what I think is the lobby of the Air Afrique office. Most of us sit down, some go with our professor to see about our luggage. I, myself, just sit and wait. I am thirsty.

The next thing I know, we are back on the street again, going somewhere else. I hear the call to prayer from the mosque, everyone gets quiet. All I can hear is the call to prayer, and the sound of people walking. I remain quiet out of respect. Why everyone else is quiet, I am not sure, but I imagine it is out of respect as well. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I remain quiet until the call has stopped, because it seems to me the right thing to do.

We are now in a building, going up some stairs, into some man’s office. This office is air-conditioned! I think to myself that I am going to stay here and never leave! The air feels nice, but I remind myself not to get too comfortable. We won’t be here long.

We are now on the bus! Going to the airport!

“At least we don’t have to go all the way back to Dakar,” I think to myself.

We go along the road. I listen to the sound of the group talking. I can’t hear what they are all saying, it just is a drone of voices. I lean my head against the window of the bus, and think. I am hoping all of my stuff is there, that I can get into some clean clothes.

We are now at the airport. We all get out of the bus, and go inside. I sit down on a bench and wait. I didn’t bring Abby with me on this occasion, so I feel somewhat out of place, not having her here with me.

Finally, Jennifer comes and gets me.

“Is my stuff there?” I ask her, eagerly.

“Yes. I see it.” Jennifer says to me.

“Let me see it!” I say to her. “I want to be sure it is all there.”

“It is there!” Jennifer says to me, a bit aggravated, I think.

She lets me touch my luggage anyway, and it is mine! I am elated!

Everyone has there luggage except for one person, and although I feel sorry for him, I am glad that it is not me, just the same.

Everyone gets their luggage and then loads it on the bus. After that, we all get on the bus and head for the hotel! I begin to think about how happy I am going to be when I can finally get some clean clothes on!

Let it be remembered that I did say that in Africa one should expect the unexpected. Well, I am about to be shown another case in point as to why one should hold that view.

We are heading down the road, wehn I suddenly realize the movement in the bus is not the same as it was before. I feel it moving, but I no longer feel the vibration of the motor. Everyone else keeps talking, and I realize they do not yet notice something is wrong.

The bus moves, but it is getting slower and slower, and then, finally, it stops! Everyone gets quiet. The driver attempts to start the bus back up again, but to no avail!

“We are having what they call a break down,” my professor says.

The driver says that he can walk back to the airport and get another bus. So he starts off, and all of us get off of the bus again, and stand by the sides of the road.

I am trying not to get too exasperated. I am thinking that at least we all have our luggage. And I am hoping that it will not be too long before the driver is back with another bus.

As we all stand and wait, cars are coming down the road, honking their horns at the immobile bus.

“That bus is not going anywhere!” I think to myself. “You just might as well try to go around it. No use honking at it.”

Seeing the oncoming cars honking at the bus makes me laugh, anyway, and it makes waiting easier. Maybe I should not be laughing at them. But it somehow seems humorous to me that the people in the cars are honking at a bus that cannot be moved. I wonder what is going to happen to the bus, how it is going to be moved off the side of the road. I imagine coming back here a week later, and finding the bus still here, unmoved. I am guessing there is no Triple A Motor Club the driver could call to come tow the bus. Remember, this is Africa, expect the unexpected.

Finally, after a little while, the man comes back with another bus. Some of the group sets to work reloading the second bus, and I stand and wait for them to get finished. Then, I get on the bus myself, sit down, and hope we can get back to the hotel this time.

Thankfully, this time, we make it back without any problems. Jennifer and I get our stuff, and go back to our room. Abby is waiting, jumping around. I think she knows I have her food and her chewing bone. She seems extra happy to see me.

The first thing I do after saying hi to Abby, is open my luggage. It is a mess! Nothing is as I had packed it! But I try not to be too upset none the less. Here is a piece of advice for anyone traveling any long distance, but especially Africa. Do not, under any circumstances pack any package which can be torn open in your luggage. Chocolate cookies are a great example. For that is what I had packed in my suitcase. What I found when opening my luggage was a complete disaster! Cookies everywhere! All over everything! It was awful!

When I packed my things, the plan was to put all of my food in plastic shopping bags, that I could get out when I arrived in Dakar. The food was what I was supposed to eat on the bus ride from Dakar to Bakau. I had packed three bottles of water, some cans of tuna and crackers, some little cans of sausages, which I didn’t want, really, even though I had bought them. And some chocolate pudding! Everything was OK, except for the cookies! I didn’t even think about the cookies! But then again, I didn’t expect that my luggage would get lost on the way either.

So I set to work trying to clean up the mess. Another thing that was damaged was the First Aid kit I had brought with me. There was a big hole in the bottom of it. I knew I should not have bought a plastic one. A metal one would have been better. But you live and learn, I guess.

So the first thing to do, after assessing the state of my luggage, is to empty everything out, and try to clean it up the best I can, which is what I do. Even though I am slightly upset that it is not in the state in which I packed it, I am, nonetheless, thankful that I have it back, and everything is accounted for.

After cleaning up the cookie mess, organizing my clothes on the shelf next to my bed, and giving Abby her chewing bone, I, finally, get a set of clean clothes and get ready to take a much-needed shower! It is almost dinner time, and there is still the rest of the evening yet to go!

Thione Seck vs. Youssou Ndour

Assalamu alaikum / greetings. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the recent albums by Youssou Ndour and Thione Seck, namely, “Egypt” and “orientation”.

Of course, if you listen to the albums, or read the reviews, it is easy ot make comparisons between the two albums. And I’ve read some reviews / articles which talk of how “Even though Youssou got their first, Thione was going to do something like this all the time”, etc.

I get the feeling when reading some of the articles on the two releases that there’s some sor tof “competition” between the two artists. And I sure hope not. Besides, if you listen to the two CD’s, although there are definitely similarities between the two projects, there are definitely differences as well.

I really don’t think there should be a “who got their first” mentality going on here, and I sense that the two artists may not feel any sense of hard feelings toward each other, and it’s just comments by the critics which are alluding to that. Although, I can’t say for sure and Allah knows best on this.

Anyway, I enjoy both albums, and I enjoy both artists’ work, and becuse of that, I’d hope that Inshallah, they don’t have any hard feelings about the “similarities” between the recent releases, and they can see them as being complementary to each other.

But I read some article saying something like “poor Thione Seck can’t seem to get a break, the guy is just as talented as Youssou Ndour but can’t seem to get out from behind his shadow, and this “”Orientation” albumb was gonna do it for him, but darn it if Youssou Ndour didn’t get their first”. And I say, Hmmm…

Anyway, I’m on a bit of a Thione Seck kick at this point, which will probably last like a week or so, and then I’ll be over it. I had the “Orientation” CD playing in the background on my headset at work, the one where I listen to Jaws, while taking calls from the phone headset. And I don’t know. I’ve had the “Orientation” CD, since like November, I think, but I can’t remember. And I just gave it a cursory listen. And then, I don’t know. I’d started listening to it again last week, on my Book Port on the way into work. And on Friday, well, the affect of the CD just finally hit me!

You know how when you listen to a song, and, it has some osrt of spiritual effect on you? OK, none of the osngs are sung in Enlgish, I don’t know what he’s talking about (can someone tell me), but that doesn’t seem to matter, because when you hear “Alhamdulillahi”, in one of the songs, (I can’t remember which one), you just stop and go, “Yeah, that’s it!” And I wonder what he’s thanking God for.

I’m thinking, if I had the chance to interivew Thione Seck, Youssou Ndour, or any of the international / Senegalese artists I often find myself listening to, the first question I’d ask them is, “What are you singing about?” And then, it would be like I had a million questions to ask them, but no way to put them into words.

Do you ever get tired of singing? Where is your favorite city to travel to? What do you think of non-Senegalese, or “Westerners” taking an interest in your music? What role does religion (presumably Islam), play in your music, your lyrics? If I ever get back to Dakar, I’d like to see them perform, and I’m not the type to go gaga over “celebrities”, but these are two people I’d like to meet, becuase when you listen to their music, it’s like they are singing songs of substance. And for the most part, that is lacking in American music. And that is what I’d like to tell them. Thank you for putting out good songs, even if I can’t understand most of what is being said.

But I really try my best not to put people on pedestals. And it’s not that I may not do it unintentionally. But the way I see it, we are all human, we are all children of Adam. And on Yaum-al-qiyama, we’re all going to be standing on the same place, when Allah’s judgment will come down. So, yeah, Youssou Ndour and Thione Seck are internationally known people, and I, well, I’m just Ginny. But Youssou is just Youssou and Thione is just Thione. It’s just that Allah’s Decree was different for them than it was for me.

So anyway… this brings me back to the thought / question of, “if I ever went back to Senegal / The Gambia, what would they think of me being a Muslim”? And what would their reaction be if I told them that coming to Senegal / The Gambia played a big part, if not the seminal part, in me later accepting Islam? Hmm…

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Four!

My Introduction to the Djembeh Drum

     It is evening, after dinner.  I am sitting in the dining area of Muhammad’s restaurant, trying to decide what I am going to do for the rest of the evening.  It is my second day in The Gambia, before I went to the beach and before the band.  Yes, I am backtracking a little, but that is OK, because inevitably, I will end up where I left off last time.  So here goes!
     I am sitting in the chair, listening to people talking, trying to keep Abby from chasing the cats that are roaming around.  All of a sudden, something catches my attention.  I stop.  I listen.  Someone is beating on a drum, and walking around.  I don’t care who it is, I just want to see the drum. 
     "Who is that?"  I ask.
     Damian, who is also in our group, comes over to me, holding the drum.
     "It is me, Damian,"  he says to me.
     "What is that?"  I ask him.
     "It is a drum," he  tells me.
     "Can I see it?"  I ask him.
      "Yes," he says, and he hands it to me.
      The drum is quite big, coming up to halfway between my knees and waist when it is sat completely down on the floor.  So I take the drum, and look at it.  It is made completely out of wood, except for the top of it which is made out of what I later find out is goatskin, and around the top edge, it is trimmed with goat fur. 
     When I ask what kind of fur it is, I am jokingly told it is from "some unfortunate dog", but I laugh because I know exactly where Abby is.  At this point, Jennifer has taken her, so I can better look at the drum.
     "How much is the drum?"  I ask.  "I think I would like to have it."
     "I will have to ask the man down the street,"  Damian tells me.  "He is the one who is actually selling it.  I am just helping him sell it."
     "OK,"  I say.  "Go find out how much it is."
     Damian leaves, taking the drum with him.  I sit and wait. 
     After a while, he comes back and says that the man will take it for 450 dalasis. 
     "No," I say.  "I’ll pay 400 for it."
     "OK, I’ll go see if that is OK,"  Damian says, and then leaves again.
     "That is OK with him," Damian says, after coming back.
     As I go to get the money, Damian says, "No, come with me, you have to pay the man in person since he is the one selling the drum."
     "OK," I say.  And get up and follow Damian out of the hotel, and into the street.
     "How far is this place?"  I ask him, as we walk.
     "It is not too far," Damian says.
     "Are you sure you know where you are going?"
     "Yes, I have been to this man’s shop many times.  I was here last year."
     "OK, I don’t want to get lost,"  I say.
     Finally, we get to the shop, and I meet the man.  For the life of me, though, I do not remember his name.  And I wish I did.  He says hello to me, and shakes my hand.
     "So you want the drum?"  the man asks me.
     "Yes, I would like to have it,"  I say to him.
     "Well, it is 400 dalasis, that is what you said you would pay for it,"  the man says.
     "Yes, I know that,"  I say back to him.
     "And you will come tomorrow, and I will teach you how to play it," he says to me.
     I stop.  I didn’t know this was in the deal.  I thought I would take my drum and go back to my room, just like with the statues.  But I decided it couldn’t hurt to learn a little something about playing a drum. 
     The man continues, "You can’t get a drum unless you know how to play it first."
     "OK," I say to him.  "When do we start?"
     I figured that if he wanted to teach me, I wanted to learn.  So I, being the eager person that I am, wanted to start as soon as possible.
     "When can you be here tomorrow?" the man asks me.
     "Probably the afternoon,"  I say to him.
     "Then, I will expect you here tomorrow,"  he says to me.
     "OK," I say to him.  "I’ll be here."
     After that Damian takes the drum, and we turn to leave.  As we are walking back, I feel a bit sheepish.  I mean, how much does one have to know to play the drum anyway?  I mean, Lamin, someone else I had met in my short time in The Gambia, and I had played on a drum together, and I thought I was doing quite well.  After this conversation with the man I had bought this drum from, I wasn’t so sure, and after tomorrow, I would be even less sure.
     So now it is Sunday, yes, I said I would stay around the hotel, but I had almost forgotten that I had to meet the man for a drum lesson.  It is Damian knocking at my room door that reminds me.
     "Are you ready to go?" he asks me.
     "Yes,"  I say.  "Hold on."
     I turn my Walkman off, get up from my bed, and open the door for Damian.  He takes a step back because Abby has run to the door, and is barking at him.  I tell him to wait, and I slide on my shoes, deciding not to wear my sandals I had purchased earlier in the day.
     So I pick the drum up, lock the room leaving Abby behind (it is too hot to take her), and set off with Damian.
     We get to the man’s shop, he invites us in, and we sit down.  He first shows me how to put the drum between my knees, and how to cup my hands to play it.  The rest, I do not remember, it is all a blur now.  What I do remember is he tells me to keep playing.  I play.  And I suddenly realize the man is gone.
     I stop playing.  "Where  did he go?"  I ask Damian.
     "He went to the market to get a carrot and a potato,"  Damian answers me.
     "A carrot and a potato?"  I ask in surprise.  "Why did he do that?"
     "He invited us to his house for dinner,"  Damian tells me.
     "OK," I say to him, as I take a drink out of my water bottle.
     "You better start playing before he gets back,"  Damian says to me, and I start to play.  Half because I don’t want the man to come back and find me not doing anything, and secondly, because I want to drown out that stupid "My Way" song by Usher. 
     I do not like that song.  And I half have a mind to tell whoever has been playing it for the last hour or who knows how long to stop, because it is driving me crazy.  And come to think of it, he was playing that song last night when I was here also!  So, I keep playing.
     After a while, I stop, and take another drink of water.  I am sweating.  My hands hurt.  Damian starts laughing at me because my hands have turned red.
     After a while, the man comes back, and luckily, I am playing when he does.  But alas, I am not doing it exactly as I was supposed to be playing the drum.  And he shows me the right way. 
     "And you stopped playing!"  he says to me.
     "How did you know that?"  I ask him, surprised.  "I had to!  I was thirsty, and my hands were starting to hurt."
     The next thing I remember is walking out of the man’s shop, going to his house to eat dinner.  I am glad because I am tired and hungry.  I think about the people in the band that was at the hotel the night before, and I wonder how they could have possibly done it.  Played the drum for so long.  I no longer think that it is easy anymore.  And I will debate anyone who says it is!
     Later, I am sitting with Damian and the man, in his house, eating dinner, and watching some church program on TV.
     "Turn that off, please," Damian says.  "I can see this mess at home.  I don’t have to come all the way over to Africa to see it."
     I laugh.  "You have a point," I say to him.
     The rest of the time is spent talking, and finally, Damian and I head back to the hotel, drum and all.
     When I get back, Lamin is waiting, and asks if I would like to play on the drum some more.
     "No," I say to him.  "You do it.  You do a better job than me."
     "Why do you not want to play?"  he asks me.
     "Because after today, I am not quite so sure I am as good as I thought I was."
     Lamin laughs, takes the drum, and begins to play and sing.
      "What are you singing,"  I ask him.
     "I am saying, Welcome to The Gambia, Ginny," he says. 
     And I sit and listen to him play, and I think.

My Trip to The Gambia – Part Three!

On The Beach.

     I have been in The Gambia for almost two full days now.  It is evening, after dinner.  I am trying to decide what I want to do for the evening.  I have three options.  The first is to stay and listen to the local band which has set up in the dining area and has started to play.  Many people, not only just our group, have gathered to hear them. 
     "I think I’ll stay for just a while,"  I think to myself.  "And then, I’ll either go to the club, or to the beach!"  But maybe I’ll wait to go to the beach tomorrow.  I am pondering all of this as I am walking back to my room with Abby, whom I am taking back to my room to feed.
     So, after deciding to leave Abby in my room so she won’t be disturbed by the music, I grab my cane, my room key, lock the door, and head back toward the dining area.  The band is still playing there, and there is now quite a few people there.  When I walk in the room, someone helps me find a chair, and I sit down and listen, absorbed in my own thoughts, enjoying myself, thinking of all of the experiences I have had, and this is only the second day!
     After a while, Jennifer walks up to me.
     "What are you doing?"  she yells at me over the music.
     "Just sitting here,"  I say.
     "Want to go for a walk?"  she asks me.
     "Sure," I say.  "I’ll go."
     So, I get up, get Abby, and Jennifer, me, and some kids begin to walk around, through some compounds, over to see some people she knew from last year.  We get to one of the houses, and I sit down on a bench.  Abby lies down at my feet.  Jennifer introduces me to a lady named Binta.  Binta says hi, asks me how I am doing, asks me Abby’s name. 
     A little boy named Lamin, along with some other little kids, comes up and says hi, and comment about the dog. 
     Then, Jennifer comes back after visiting some more people, and she asks me if I want to go to the beach.
     "To the beach!"  I exclaimed to her.  "At this time! It is night time!"
     "Sure," Jennifer says.  "It will be cooler there.  It will be fun!"
     So I agree to go.
     We take Abby and walk to the beach.  As we get closer to the beach, I start to feel the wind coming off of the ocean.  It feels really nice, since the day has been hot.  I start to hear the sound of the waves!  I love the sound of the ocean, love the smell, love the feel of the water washing over my feet and the sand being pulled out from under them. 
     So now we are at the beach!  I take my shoes and socks off, and put them on a blanket Jennifer has brought with her.  I take off my fanny pack and put it on the same blanket, beside my shoes and socks.  I am nervous about leaving it there, since that is where my money is, but I do it anyway.
     Jennifer, Abby, Joe Boogie (who is someone Jennifer also knows that I have met earlier in the day), and I begin to walk toward the water.  Abby, on the other hand, has other ideas.  This dog has no intentions whatsoever of getting in the water!  She tries to turn away, all of us try to coax her into the water, though I know she will not go.  I have tried to get her to go in the water before at other places, and I know this time, getting her to go in the water will be no different.  She won’t go.
     So we give up trying to force Abby into the water, and Joe Boogie stays with her on the beach, as Jennifer and I wade into the cool water.  I roll my pantlegs up to try to keep them from getting wet, but it doesn’t work, the waves come and splash on them anyway.  But rolling them up does make it easier to walk in the water, so I do it anyway.
     I hear Abby barking at me from the shore, guess she doesn’t think I should be in the water either.  I call back to her to be quiet, I’m OK, and keep walking.  Finally, Jennifer and I stop, stand still, and I just listen to the water, feel the sand, hope I don’t get bitten by any strange ocean animals lurking in the sand.  I don’t, and after a while, Jennifer and I walk back onto the beach, and we get Abby. 
     Then, Jennifer takes me to see the fishing boats that are sitting just at the water’s edge on the beach.  She explains to me that that is what the fishermen use to catch the fish.  I wonder if any of the fish I have eaten since I have been in The Gambia were caught in these boats. 
     I like the boats, but I don’t think I would ride in them.  I would be too scared.  Although Jennifer says she has ridden in them before.
     So, we decide to head back to the hotel.  I am thirsty, and want something to drink, and the water on my clothes is making me a little cold.  So we start walking back.
     Back at the hotel, the band is still there.  I put Abby back in the room, and walk back into the dining area.  I sit back down.  Muhammad, the man who owns the restaurant in the hotel, sits down and begins to talk to me.
     "How are you doing?"  He asks me.
     "Fine," I say to him.  "I am doing OK, how are you?"
     "Fine," He says to me.  "Do you like the music?"  He asks me.  "This is real African music." 
     "Yes,"  I say to him.  "It is nice.  I wish I could understand what they are saying, though.  Maybe I will at some time."
     "I can see you have been to the beach,"  Muhammad says to me.
     "How did you know that?"  I ask.
     "I can see your clothes are wet,"  He explains.
    "Oh," I say, and I feel really stupid. 
     Muhammad leaves, and I sit and again am drawn into my own thoughts.
     A few more people come up to me and ask me how I am doing, ask me about being to the beach, ask me if I liked it. 
     After a while, the band stops playing, they put their instruments away, and the show is over.  Everyone begins to file out of the room.  I stand up and walk out also.
     It is then I finally realize how many people were there, as I come out of the gate of the hotel. 
     "There were a lot of people here!"  I think to myself. 
     I speak to some men who have begun talking to me.  They welcome me to The Gambia, ask me how I am doing.  I say I am fine, and sit down on the bench to talk with them for a while.  Though after a while, I go back inside to my room, and get ready to go to bed.  And so ends another day on the smiling coast.  And I begin to wonder what awaits me the next day!

Interview with Ousainou Darbo – by Baba Galleh Jallow

The following interview was conducted for The Independent newspaper shortly before its forced and unexplained closure by the Gambia government. We produce
it below for the benefit of our online readers.

Baba

UDP leader Ousainou Darboe recently made a short visit to the United States. The Independent’s Baba Galleh Jallow caught up with Mr. Darboe in the American
capital Washington, DC. In the following interview, Mr. Darboe spoke about reasons for his visit, meetings he held, his break with NADD, his party’s new
alliance with the NRP and other issues of national interest.

Mr. Darboe, let me start by asking you to please tell us some of the reasons for your current visit to the United States.

I am here to meet and consult supporters as we approach the 2006 presidential election campaign.  Gambians abroad have always been important in our overall
effort in bringing true democracy to The Gambia and my current trip is a reaffirmation of their role in this endevour. I am accompanied by my colleague,
Mr. Ahmadou Taal, a founding and senior member of our party.  To this end I met people in Atlanta, California, Metro Washington, DC, and New York City.
Whilst in Maryland I received a delegation from North Carolina.  This being a short trip, I was unable to go to many states to meet supporters in person
but I am grateful to the large number of them that called me on the phone across the US.

We understand that you had meetings with officials of the National Democratic Institute and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems here in Washington,
D.C. What were the purposes of these two meetings?

Mr. Taal and I held meetings at the National Democratic Institute (NDI) and at the International Foundation for Electoral Systems (IFES). At NDI, we met
with Dr. Christopher Fomunyoh, Senior Associate for Africa, Mr. Grant Godfrey, Senior Program Officer, and Ms Melissa Lane, Program Officer.  At IFES,
we met with Mr. Nathan Van Dusen, Program Manager for West Africa and Ms Susan Palmer, Senior Advisor.  At both offices, we had discussions on the democratization
process in Africa in general and in The Gambia in particular. I found a strong level of interest and an in depth understanding of our current democratic
dispensation particularly in the areas of elections process and conduct. They have both indicated a fervent desire to offer their good offices to help
our country conduct a free and fair election. I hope the IEC will take advantage of any assistance offered by any of these institutions.

Most Gambians in the Diaspora would like to enjoy an opportunity to vote in elections, like other nationalities outside their countries. What can your alliance
do to make this a possibility in time for the 2006 elections?

We have always advocated for the full participation of Gambians in the Diaspora in elections as this is their constitutional right. However, the government
of President Yahya Jammeh has shown extreme reluctance to extending the franchise to our citizens beyond the borders of The Gambia. We know institutions/organizations
have offered to fund the entire election process in the Diaspora. This offer while not outrightly rejected has been stalled by the government on the altar
of consideration.  I call on the government and the IEC to take full advantage of these offers so that the tens of thousands of Gambians living abroad
can participate in the democratic process of deciding who should take charge of the administration of the country.

So you think the APRC will definitely lose the elections later this year? What are the underlying variables for this assumption?

We believe this election would be contested amongst others, on two principal issues. First we intend to make it a referendum on the decade plus record of
President Yahya Jammeh.  Gambians will have to decide if the current state of affairs in which they face the harshest economic conditions of their lives
is acceptable.  Secondly, we intend to offer them tangible alternatives designed to arrest the cascading decline in the economy, followed by a systematic
rebuilding of the economy guided by responsible fiscal planning, deficit reduction, giving tax incentives for investments in the productive sectors. This
is how we intend to build a vibrant free market economy that would help lift our people from the crushing poverty this regime has inflicted on them. Look
at what is happening to the people of this country, hundreds of thousands of farmers are left in the lurch with no credible buying scheme for their crops
and everyone has to pay nearly D700 for a bag of rice. This is tragic and the Gambian people deserve better.  In the end we believe the APRC regime will
be defeated on account of its miserable record coupled with our strong message of delivering hope, growth and progress.

If elected, what are some of the major issues you plan to tackle as matters of urgent national concern?

Our priority if elected would be a laser beam focus on the economy, constitutional and judicial reform, an overhaul of our healthcare system, education
and the pursuit of a foreign policy that reflects our strongly held Gambian values of respect for the rule of law, democracy, human rights and peace. We
believe our nation’s standing in the international community rests more on how we uphold universally accepted norms and values than on hosting expensive
diplomatic pageantries that cost millions of Dalasis.

What is your position on the issue of term limits for the President?

We believe in a two five-year term-limit for the office of President. Unlimited self-perpetuation of power is a serious impediment to democracy. Term limits
will be among the set of constitutional reforms we will present to the first sitting of the new National Assembly.

Now let’s move a little back in time. What was the principal cause of your party’s withdrawal from the National Alliance for Democracy and Development,
NADD?

When the concept of forming a broad-based coalition was broached, we entered into the negotiations enthusiastically. We suspended all our party activities
and I personally undertook to keep a low public profile. We negotiated in good faith, made concessions and tried our best toward achieving a successful
alliance of political parties as opposed to the creation of a new political party operating side–by-side with existing parties. Unfortunately, as we limped
on with the new political entity I came to realize insincerity, mistrust, and hatred on the part of some members of the NADD executive, which sometimes
led to unhealthy exchanges. My party and I concluded that it was impossible to operate harmoniously within an organization under such conditions.  We then
proceeded to resign from NADD and pursue our campaign in a newly formed coalition. This eventuality, however, does not preclude further cooperation between
our coalition and other parties. We are keeping the lines of communication open and remain hopeful that we can work together in some fashion down the road.

Your party has formed an alliance with the National Reconciliation Party of Mr. Hamat Bah, which also withdrew from NADD. What has been the reasoning behind
this alliance?

Our alliance with NRP is an outcome that I am pleased with. Our parties complement each other in very significant ways and I believe the resultant synergy
will pay great electoral dividends as we traverse the length and breadth of this nation delivering our message of hope, growth and progress.  I am also
very proud of the wonderful working and personal relationship I have with my colleague and NRP leader Hamat Bah. He is an astute politician and a very
energetic campaigner with strong support across the country.

You have been known to suggest that other political entities in The Gambia are welcome to join the UDP/NRP Alliance. How would you react to suggestions
that your party is welcome to rejoin NADD?

I believe the best way to proceed is cooperation of some kind among all opposition forces. It is not a question of who joins whom at this point because
what matters is working together in ways that satisfy the ultimate objectives we all share.

What do you see as the single, major obstacle to progress in post-colonial Africa?

I believe the single major obstacle to progress in post-colonial Africa is the perennial lack of a full, functional and participatory democratic dispensation.
Democracies by nature are accountable to their people, which necessarily means leaders must constantly strive to improve the lives of their people, safeguard
their rights, respect their values and protect the rights of the minority.  This in turn spawns economic growth, precipitates innovation and guarantees
stability. Sadly, post-colonial Africa has not sufficiently embraced democracy with vast swaths of the continent clutched in the cruel fists of dictators
and pseudo-democrats. The result is extreme poverty, disease, civil strife, wars, and general instability.

Any last words for the Gambian people, particularly the security forces vis-à-vis this election year?

The security services have an institutional responsibility to be professional and to operate within the bounds of the law. I would urge each and every member
of the security services to first remember their oath of office and also to be cognizant of the fact that we are all brothers and sisters in this small
country.  I want to extend the same advice to civil servants, employees of parastatal organizations, local government officials, and chiefs.

To the Gambian people, I ask them not to succumb to intimidation, harassment, and inducement.  They must realize that their vote is the only instrument
for shaping the future of their children and grandchildren.  The only way you can do this is to VOTE for the UDP/NRP Alliance.

Generating Insecurity: The State as an Enemy of Justice in Africa

Generating Insecurity: The State as an Enemy of Justice in Africa

By Baba Galleh Jallow

Washington, DC

One cruel irony of history is the fact that the state, which is supposed to be the provider and maintainer of national security, is most often than not
the source of national insecurity. This is true of not only African countries, but countries of all geographical locations throughout history. In the twentieth
and twenty-first centuries, however, the African state has become the infamous leader among nations that generate insecurity for their populations.

Orthodox concepts of security concentrate on militaristic notions and emphasize the security of national borders and state sovereignty. Traditionally, the
military, the regular police, secret police and other security agencies were entrusted with the responsibility of maintaining national security and protecting
the state against external aggression. This orthodox notion of national security paid little attention to the fact that national security is only one component
of security.

Recent studies have shown that national security cannot be complete without the adequate consideration of the human security of the people themselves. This
involves not only the protection of their persons and properties from both internal and external aggression, but also the provision of their most basic
needs – food, health, education, shelter, clothing and the like – as well as the protection of their political rights and the dignity of their persons.
No concept of national security is complete without a consideration as to whether the people are free to express themselves within the confines of just
laws, and to freely associate with the political institutions of their choice without fear of reprisals.

Sadly, in Africa, it is the state that is the chief enemy of national security. Whether this is a consequence of the political ignorance of the political
leadership or just a deliberate practice of the politics of exclusion and impunity is a matter of debate. What is clear is that African governments’ propensity
to oppress their peoples through the systematic violation of their most basic rights is cause for very serious concern. It is important for such repressive
governments to realize that their power extends just so far. There are lots of things that are beyond their power and control. The prevalence of military
coups and civil wars in Africa is the most graphic demonstration of the limits of government powers. If a state is able to earn public respect and legitimacy
by respecting the basic human rights of its people, there would be no need for politically induced rage and its resultant civil conflict.

Tragically, African governments think that by enforcing the peace of the iron grid, and ironclad order, they will achieve national security, which, for
them, simply means the survival of their regimes. This, of course, is erroneous. Imposing peace and order without guaranteeing justice and a modicum of
economic security is not only an exercise in futility, but also a recipe for disaster. Indeed, a culture of peace and order cannot exist without justice
and a degree of economic security. And if a culture of peace and justice does not exist, a culture of war and injustice is the inevitable alternative.
There are no middle grounds. They would do well to remember the wisdom of the words of John Rawls (1999) that “Each person possesses an inviolability founded
on justice that even the welfare of society as a whole cannot override. . . . Therefore, in a just society the liberties of equal citizenship are taken
as settled; the rights secure by justice are not subject to political bargaining or to the calculus of social interests.” But of course, the concept of
a just society is itself Greek to the confused sensibilities of Africa’s political misleadership.

The recent experience of The Independent newspaper is a case in point. Certainly, The Independent, like any other legal institution in The Gambia, is expected
to abide by the laws of the land. But so is the National Intelligence Agency, the police, and the president of the Republic. No one is above the law, and
everyone knows this for a fact, even those who choose to break the law in the name of the law. So if The Independent commits a crime or breaks the law
in one way or the other, the due process of law must be applied. Instead of this, however, it was appalling to see Independent staff arbitrarily arrested
without warrant and detained for over three weeks without being charged with any crime.

According to Gambian law, no person should be held in detention without charge beyond 72 hours. Also, no private property should be closed without a court
order. In the case of The Independent, none of these laws were observed by the law enforcement agencies. It is a cruel irony that the agencies that are
supposed to enforce the law are the breakers of the law. We all would do well to remember that as Gambians sharing a common national space and destiny,
we all have nothing to gain and everything to lose by engaging in the practice of injustice, or in activities that are inimical to national security. Whether
we accept this as fact or fiction is of no consequence in the book of reality.