The Chronicle Gambia

Dictatorial Tendencies: The Road Taken

By the twilight of December 1, 2016

It dawn on Pride who was too proud for over two decades

That lies and bogus show have a beginning and ending

Even the so-called spiritual beings couldn’t rescue him

The seed of terror he implanted in our country

Was defeated by the sister seed he grew for tertiary education

And a defiant throng that sold its life for change

His thought-military-might was whitewashed by minds’ might

And then the dawn of new Gambia unfolded like a package

Liberty and dignity will ensue at last we thought

But lo and behold! Time the teller of all stories is telling all

Our hoisted hopes began to dash away as if dust.


First we were assured of a good of this and a good of that

A change of this and a change of that, by-and-large

Within a wink of weeks the bond bonded started to break

Promises piled yet ignored like the Bakoteh dumpsite

The politicos couldn’t cool their ugly greed on power

As they rant in rave wanting to be the best father and husband

Yet their children cry of hunger and women fret of being demeaned


OMG! To say the least, our politicos should stop the comic

We have Kitabu Fatty and Bright Star Entertainment

Their talents shouldn’t be wasted neither be rubbed from them

Can so-called intellectuals throwing shades at one another

Build our trust and be given our future to manhandle?

Emphatically No! Sagaciously detrimental! Foolishly foolish!


Fast forward with this cooked quagmire by our politicos

You manning our post and can’t talk the talk, resign!

We picked you to transform our country and not to target us

Water canon for “hot water” for free expressionists? Are you ok?

Life is too short to live, too long to be at the dark

We have emanate far, need to drive fast or continue to lag far

But by looks, seeing is said is believing

Perchance divine intervention you grip firm for favors

Might mold your motives right to make you look bright

If it’s too early for time the tell to tell your story

Then packing your bags and baggage now is cool

For when too many men with might set out to marvel you

Your inner circle and monumental clowns would melt like water.


Let I forget to fret about your inner circle, the lust capitalists

Telling you it is God’s choice and not that of the people

And about it, you brag about and brimming your face bright

When your irises are clouded by the preciousness of power

Bellyful and drunken like a bloody drunkard

Until the untold truth is told by an altruist within your nucleus

Time the teller will tell yet another story of miscarriage mission.

Momodou Jarju is a freelance journalist, essayist, poet and blogger. He is currently pursuing Advance Diploma at Media Academic for Journalism and Communication (MAJaC).

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