Sunday, December 10, 2017

A Letter to the Vice Chancellor, University of the Gambia (UTG)

 I write with a great aplomb and unbreakable string of inexplicable respect, to genuinely disclose a hindsight of foreseeable national plight affecting every facet of your deservedly highly praised University. My reason for writing to you becomes a disillusionment at variance with a sense of detachment on past aspirations towards your predecessors. I reasonably write this letter to define my blustery petrel of nationalism which has defied my anticipation.


Of understandable civility, I do hope that the sting of discomfort on my chin hopes to smart in perpetuity for accepting my "Congratulatory Message" to you--having assumed the office which serves as the eyes and ears of every erudite and unscholarly Gambian.
As Paul Beatty, the Manbooker Prize Winner echoes in his best-selling book, The Sellout, which reads: "Human carnage and mistake is always filmed and remembered in the highest definition. The images of the past always burn into our memories and plasma screens of sight to recall."


Makes the smokes of expression burned the inside of my throat. After a long pause, I finally want to say, Honor my Chancellor, I plead human. This letter is a citation of interest in your honorable institution of wisdom, I plead service en masse on an affirmation-action that truncates our country's name.The Gambia, our country as you may know is the smallest of the only countries on planet earth - where tribalism is a constitutional right - and jealousy and hypocrisy a priority first.


My research paper, 'Seeking Knowledge in Philosophy of Science and Religion' teaches that: "In a country where knowledgeable people are disrespected - the youth suckle from the breast of ignorance." If modern law is to be modernized,  and laws made out of parliament to be revised and revitalized in the coming Twenty-Second Century: The Age of The Anti- Christ which is not my topic of discussion.  The Gambia under the first democratically elected government should be one of the African countries to pass a bill against ( Wolof: Sohorr ak Inyan) ( Mandinka: Hasidia ning Jawyaa).


 Agreeing with me that an honorary degree is an academic degree for which a university (or other degree-awarding institution) has waived the usual requirements, such as matriculation, residence, a dissertation and the passing ofcomprehensive examinations. The degree is typically a doctorate or, less, commonly a master's degree, or bachelor's , and may be awarded to someone who has no prior connection with the academic institution or no previous postsecondary education. The degree is often conferred as a way of honouring a distinguished citizen or a visitor's contributions to a specific field or to society in general.

For over three hundred years, U.S. colleges and universities have bestowed honorary degrees on people for their lasting impact on society - politicians, musicians, writers, actors, clergymen, corporate CEOs, sports figures and then some. It all began at Harvard University in 1692, when the Ivy League school gave the first honorary degree in the United States to Puritan clergyman Increase Mather. However, honorary degrees had been granted for over 200 years before this (the University of Oxford gave out its first honorary degree in the 1470s). Then, the degree was given mainly to scholars.
 Such diverse individuals as author Elie Weisel, comedian Bill Cosby, and former heavyweight champion Mike Tyson have been awarded honorary degrees. My honorable Chancellor, The Yale University as part of its honors programs awarded the famous Senegelase inventor of "Mbalax",  Prof. Youssou Ndour for his outstanding contribution in the world of music. How about renowned Gambian Jaliba Kuyateh, the King of Kora?  Prof. Dr. Henry Carrol, retired director of the Gambia National Library, Abdou W. Mbaye, Hon. Halifa Sallah, Dr. Langfafa Dampha, former P.S. Baboucarr Boye,  Mr. Momodou Sabally the Gambia's Pen, Prof. Fodey Baldeh a publisher, critic, grammarian and editor, Prof. Nana Grey-Johnson, Dr. Baba Galleh Jallow, Dr. Baba Sillah, Dr. Tijan Sallah, Prof. Michael Hamadi Secka, Dr. Cherno Omar Barry, Dr. Musa Bah ( Tha Scribller ), etc. It's even more disparaging to recall how prolific Gambian scholars in the likes of late  Dr. Lenrie Peters, Sheikh  Oustas Bun Jeng, Sheikh Oustas Abdou Gitteh,  Musa Affia Ngoum, Ossulo Njie Senghor, and of recently, Dr. Raphina Philott Almeida, etc, could all be laid to rest to suffer the indignity of unremembered graves. Their history forgotten, and their might extincted amongst fallen knights.

 I am happy to know Dr. Pierre Gomez has been academically and ceremonious conferred a" Prof", which is loudly commendable and undoubtedly deserving of such an erudite embodiment of scholarship and dissertation in him. I hope his department under your tutelage will put this letter into consideration, and to hereinafter ameliorate the faculty of arts and sciences with similar programmes, despite the existing honors in your university. In one of my new books,  entitled; 'An Island of Silence' , I said: "when flowers turned and become fruits,  they always tend to forget that they're from a plant." I bet the ferociously intelligent and season of Gambian scholars will nurture the young people in our country who merit mentorship, in order to hold the roots of our country's educational future at equilibrium - thus,  the settled Gambia High incident.


Honorary degrees recognize those who have made profound and enduring contributions to scholarship, culture, and improved quality of life in society at large. Achievements of national or international significance deserve priority consideration. It is important that recipients be persons of great integrity, as the choices we make reflect our values as an institution. Hence it is sometimes recommended that such degrees be listed in one's CV as an award, and not in the education section. With regard to the use of this honorific, the policies of institutions of higher education generally ask that recipients "refrain from adopting the misleading title and that a recipient of an honorary doctorate should restrict the use of the title "Dr" before their name to any engagement with the institution of higher education in question and not within the broader community. Rev.Theodore Hesburgh held the record for most honorary degrees, having been awarded 150 during his lifetime


I would like to recommend to your office the  "Introduction" of The Honorary Degree and Undergraduate Degree awarded in rare and exceptional circumstances.  The purpose of these honor is to recognize individual Gambians who may or may not have been admitted to, or graduated from the University of the Gambia under exceptional or extraordinary conditions.

 For example in USA, the first recipient of the Honorary Undergraduate Degree was denied admission to the University due to her race, not on the basis of her academic qualifications. It is anticipated that the awardees have distinguished themselves within their community, state or region.

The Types of Honorary Undergraduate Degrees to be Awarded at the UTG may include :

Bachelor of Arts (B.A.)
Bachelor of Science ( B.SC.)
Etc,

Titles of Honorary Degrees available for conferral at the UTG may also include:

Doctor of Arts (D.A.) – Design, visual, and performing arts

Doctor of Humane Letters (L.H.D.) – Service to society (humanitarianism) and scholarship in the humanities (journalism, communication, history, philosophy, language, and literature) and social sciences

Doctor of Laws (LL.D.) – Law, public policy, and public service

Doctor of Science (Sc.D.) – Science, medicine, engineering, and related fields

In conclusion,  the Bible says in 2 Timothy 4:3: “For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions.” In the service of creative writing, philosophy and nationalism, I cannot but always remain:


Yours Sincerely,
Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe,
Author / Librarian / Poet and Playwright;
Founder/President of the Young Writers Association of the Gambia  ( YWAG),
Interim Assistant Secretary General at the Writers Association of the Gambia  ( WAG).



All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to extract any of my articles for personal use, research, lectures, etc, kindly address your messages to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without a written permission to, is an infringement of Copyright.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

SPEAK OUT Mother Africa ( A Poem )

Speak, will you?Africa Speak!
Spread your hands,
Play the traditional bands,Sing our:

Raw materials ,
Talent and;
Human resources.

Speak the lips of joy
Deactivate your silence
Be revamped 'n renamed
 Of a wondering continent,
Speak out Mother Africa!



 The youth need your milk to breastfeed
The continent of unrespected voices
Lecturer of war 'n harborer of crimes
The continent of pest 'n diseases
Our dignity is being riped off
Our unity zip zipped off
 For a lack of cooperation
Bad representation in the United Nations
The news broadcast what our radios don't speak on the press



Be detetmined from a distress,  Oh mistress! Cooperate! Use a rake and rate the stars:
Achebe
Mandela
Ghadaffi
Sankara

Not modern speakers!
Changemakers in sheep clothing
Held our objectives sailing
Wallowing endlessly
Regardless of the holes in their pockets
For being political pickpockets
Speaking in disrupted bells of governance
Democracy with hypocrisy
Rights with dead batteries in a torchlight



 The disgruntled voices made more noises
Silent in our battered houses
Shattered into flights
Dancing naked with scattered pains
We're missing the Mugabe quotes
As his resignation gave notes
Cooperate MOTHER Africa!
Will you? Trash AU
Reshuffle ECOWAS
They're rubbish in a bin
Noisy bling blings
Whose meetings determine
An evaporated water on the road
And the dead of a toad



Cooperate with USA 'n UAE mother Africa
 As slaves of humiliation chained in politics  Threatened 'n abused in our pants
By the great constitution of nations
 In the forest of cowardice
 We drenched in our blood of fright
Clapped in delight
Time to speak out!
 Speak out Mother Africa!



Voices from afar 'n within
Our shame shall be resolved in witty
 Write hashtags, let's match the streets
 Sing boldly 'n wholly
To bid farewell with our songs of sorrow
For a better tomorrow
We must be heard even it's hard



SPEAK,  SPEAK, 'n speak out!
Time to get our abused voices into a microphone
We need Afri-Phones
Not IPhones
To SPEAK,  speak,  and speak out for EU Cooperation in Africa

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

The Pain Is Gone (A Poem)


O'er the land I'm overlaid
Weighing motion in emotion
 Overloaded in the ostentatious origin
 Overcame to overcome in the overclock

 I'm overcast, dressed overcoat
Suffered overall-
 The clock ticking overtime
My efforts are overwhelming
They overlooked
I'm overpaid

Did you hear the overflow?
In the overlap
Overblown today
In the outskirts of an outsold ovation
In an orchestrated nation

Over the damsel of an off cell
Overdue in time
Things overdone
But I'm off the done
I'm licking the ice on  the tongue


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All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to extract any of my articles for personal use, research, lectures, etc, kindly address your messages to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without a written permission to, is an infringement of Copyright.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

The Orphan ( Spoken Word) on YouTube


You may be relieved from stress and pain should you not have been in a happy mood TODAY. As a therapist of emotional discomfort, I diagnosed this piece of poem to reinvigorate the dying strength of orphans in their dramatic shifting and life-long struggle for success.
BE INSPIRED READING
The Orphan ( Spoken Word):

https://youtu.be/x9Pe-q-Nhks

Listen to another Spoken Word by Gambian Author and Young Scholar, ModouLaminAgeAlmusafSowe. Click on the video and watch lyrics of the poem titled: The Orphan. Edited and produced by PrinceJawara, an iconoclastic video-editor, professional producer, a prodigy and computer genius. Courtesy of PrinceJProduction. #Associátion_Nop_Sa_Jekarr_Group_Deff_Mu_Nekh. #WeInVirtue!



All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to extract any of my articles for personal use, research, lectures, etc, kindly address your messages to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without a written permission to, is an infringement of Copyright.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

THE HOPE THAT CRIED ( A Poem)



When our love was so young 'n fresh
We blossom from the family tree
You implanted your seeds into my womb
I gave you five splendid sons
I loved you to the depth of my heart


Until my hope cried
You broke your vows
What did she has that I lacked?
Am I not a woman?
You promised to love only me

I have never known a man except you
You met me as a virgin, pure 'n stainless
Now that my bones are old- 'n' my skin withered
You married a woman among women
We've fought 'n we quarrelled,
With so many reasons to leave you


But I cling on you like a child
Behold in my spirit 'n patient
You made my legs your home
Until I am use to only you
Why should you abandon me with my children?


Please! 
For the sake of our children; don’t leave me
Don’t make me to regret ever loving you
Remember so many fine men proposed to me
With their cash and kind
 I rejected them all for you
I love only you until you have
You threw me apart 'n forgot you past
When you used to live from hand to mouth



Had I known, I would have left you the way you were
Now that I am an orphan
Have nobody else but you
You have chosen to ostracize me
You sank me further into my miseries
You precipitated me into worries
The Lord shall judge between us


All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to extract any of my articles for personal use, research, lectures, etc, kindly address your messages to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without a written permission to, is an infringement of Copyright.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

PäChof ( A Play) Situational Comedy

 CHARACTERS

Main Cast:
1. PäChof, Husband of Horeja
2. Horeja, Wife of PäChof
3. Modou, their Son
4. Isha, their Daughter
5. Pa-kajali, uncle of PäChof
Extras:
6.  Naar
7. Hen-seller
8. Woman
9. Captain
10.                 Stranger
11.                 Fish-monger
12.                 Fisherman
13. Fishermen





EPISODE ONE

SCENE 1

SITUATION

As the dusk chameleons to dawn, the giant cock of Bah kunda cackled its loudest sound, coupled with the termination of Fajr prayer; which kept PäChof awoken. 

He performed ablution and spread his praying mat inside his house--and prayed two Rakaats. He says his prayers and feels sorry for his empty pockets, and gesturing to himself.


PäChof: Ah! Today also I have no fish-money on me. If richness was a choice, men will never walk and bow down. Why does it take so much pain to be a man? Eh!! Am talking too much, something painful can only happen to a man. God chases flies away from a cow which has no tail. Let me be on my way to the fish-port. Perhaps, I would meet my luck.

(He glances at his wife and children snoring in bed graciously, as he sneaks out of his house sympathetically to the fish-port.)


SCENE 2

Horeja woke up and searched in her bedroom but couldn’t see any fish-money place for her. She looks worry and in order not to make the children know what’s going on, she places her cooking pot containing water on the fire; as she sat hopelessly waiting to itemize a menu of complain to PäChof upon his arrival.

 Isha, their eldest daughter, approached her mother and yawn redeemly , holding her empty stomach, as Modou, her elder brother walks out of his house holding a cup and spoon, hoping to be served his breakfast.

 Isha: Mother, breakfast is too late today and I am very hungry.

(Horeja adds more wood into the fire and increases its flaming with her local hand-fan she has been holding and said:)

 Horeja:  My dear, very soon breakfast will be ready.  

Modou: How soon mother? I am very hungry as well, even yesterday; I didn’t eat dinner and went to bed with an empty stomach?

Horeja: My dear children, calm down let me collect a bowl and come. Isha, please add more woods in the fire ok, I will be back shortly.

(She shook her head and walk in her room with frenzy.) 

Modou:  As if you are boiling stones, I can’t wait anymore, as the saying goes: ‘if you don’t have a mother, obviously you will have a grandmother’. Let me bring my materials and brew ‘Atayya’,meaning green tea.


Light fade-out and pick PäChof at the fish-port struggling for fish-money


SCENE 3

The sea was wild and pompous, the waves fluctuated and proudly wash the sand along the river bank; arriving fish boats brought along nothing but broken machines and worries cause by the heavy wind. PäChof aids an arrival fish boat.

PäChof: Let’s pull the net, hold the rope firmly. This is even very light, I only hope there are enough fish in it?

Fish-monger: I hope so, let’s work PäChof, this is not a time for chit-chats.

Fisherman: Come on let’s go, pull, pull, and pull.
(After pulling out the fishnet)

PäChof: I am finish, ohh!! God of our forefathers, what am I going to take home? I left nothing there and I came here to struggle for a living. Why should life treat me like this? Where have I gone wrong so that I can correct my mistakes? Why am I not getting my share from the Rahman and Rahiim we all share on earth?

(He rests his hands on his head and watches the clouds move in unison. Desperately, he said to himself; what am I going to do now? Not until the captain helps him with fresh fishes and some cash)

Captain:  Man, please stop being depressed and have faith. Allah burdens not any soul beyond its capacity; I know how you feel and the pain it takes as a man to feed your family.

Take these fishes, I wanted to take them home but for God’s sake, I give them to you and add this money on it. Though it’s too small, but please be patient ok.

PäChof: Ohh Captain, thank you, only God can pay you. I pray that God reward you abundantly, thank you so much, ohh thank you so much. Thank you sir, ohh sir, thanks y, y, y, y.
 (He endlessly thanked him happily that he couldn’t say much to him: than to plot his way home with smiles playing around the corners of his mouth.) 


He walks away from the beach and fade-out. Light converted and pick Isha sitting by the fire.


SCENE 4
Isha sitting by the burn-fire fanning it and patiently waiting for her breakfast, couldn’t bear it anymore, her imagination rallied wild that she has to form a coalision government of courage to open the cooking- pot,  only to find boiled water reducing in quantity.

(Modou comes out of his house, stretches his muscles and ready to drink his ‘’ Atayya’’.
Isha rushes to meet her mom in the house.)

 Isha: Mom, mom...mummy.

 Horeja: Yes,... my dear daughter. What is it?

Isha: It's only water you are boiling. Is there no breakfast for us today also?

Horeja: Sit down my daughter, and pick the broomsticks and return them to the broom--and tell me how many broom sticks are there?

Isha: Mother I don’t know, unless I count them..Hush...Ahhh !

Horeja: This is how a family is; you see this one rope tied on this broom, is the same way we are united in this family. A wife should learn to be patient and helps her husband. I do know that there is no food in the house, but that doesn’t make me go out and discuss my secrets elsewhere. Every marriage has pains. I want you to be a good wife tomorrow. Do you hear me?

Isha: Ohh mother! I have never been this emotional than you put me today. You are making me cry,.. I am very proud of you; I promise I will always adhere to your advice.

Horeja: Marital secrets should not be discussed outside, let’s wait here and when your father comes back, he will pay for this. What did he take me for? My patience has reached its limit. ' Lum ma fog hana' ( meaning: what does he take me for), Mr. Fatou aka Pachof, I'm tired of him.

Isatou: No mother, how could you forget your advice so soon? Let’s just be patient ok. God will help us one day.

(The duo heard PäChof’s voice and rush out of the house to meet him)
PäChof enters the compound and sees Modou brewing Atayya; he explodes words of anger and conformity on him.

PäChof: All your colleagues are in the street struggling to survive and you are here drinking Atayya, you are nothing but a useless, foolish and silly son. I disown you; you are such an absolute nonsense. But I blame your mother for bringing such chaff to me as a son!

Modou: Father, how can you talk as if you don’t know how hard employment is nowadays? That’s why I keep on telling you to take me to Europe, and just last week, Ensa went through the backway. I am thinking of going there ‘sah, blie mann; seen!’ you should help me sah mann dad ah! Nakala?  Let’s have a drink; I have put enough sugar and ‘Nana’.

PäChof: If you tell me ‘Nakala’ again I will decapitate your head from your neck, if you cannot make it here, even if you go there you won’t make it unless you involve yourself in illegal drugs.  I want you to be a responsible son….
(Horeja interrupted them having heard her husband’s voice; she ties her wrapper around her waist with contempt of quarreling with him.)

 Horeja: And how about you PäChof, what have you earned as a responsible husband, tell me, there you went and left no fish-money at home, and here you are talking such absolute trash.

PäChof: So you call me by my first name, you must be highly drunk with madness with courage of this wrapper I even bought for you. But even if you are, you should know that PäChof is not a man who stays in bed till sunset, have you forgotten that I am PäChof, and can do anything at anytime. Let me even tell you that I went up to the sea and called fishes in their respective names-- they came in millions and filled in my plastic bag to its capacity. 'Yama Hebb Sah Yow'! ( Meaning you underrate me)

(He surprisingly handed her the plastic bag containing a shoal of fish and added some money to it; she smiles gleefully and ask PäChof:)

 Horeja:  My creamy sugar, what do you want me to prepare for you darling? ‘Hamnga man yama saff, teh hollal, lo wakh ma deff nak’( meaning: anything you say, I'll do.
(She uses her wrapper to wipe PäChof’s sweat romantically.)

PäChof:  Prepare me a delicious ‘’Benechin’’ and let the cooking oil sink all the ingredients in it. You know as usual my chocolate; you will never see a second wife. ‘Man yama doi teh yama neh’.( meaning: you alone I love and you're my choice of women)

Horeja: Darling ‘man yamai dannel, sumala gissut rek miir. ‘Togal rek harrma ma defarr bem bah’. ‘Suma pareh njaralla sow nga naan’ (meaning: darling you're the only one I love dearly. Relax and let me prepare your food fast, and get you something cold to drink)

(Light fade-out and pick PäChof resting on his chair expectantly waiting for his lunch chatting with his daughter, Isha, who is cutting her father’s nails. As they chat in gestures)

Horeja walks in, dressed in her very best clothes holding the bowl for lunch , and walking gingerly to her husband noisily shaking her hot red waistbeads and killing all the ants on the ground.  She places the bowl between them before she could fetch water; they heard the voice of a stranger at the gate.

Stranger: ‘Assalamu-alaikum….’

PäChof: Horeja, be quick, take the food inside and Isha, go and see who is at the gate. ‘Wallaikum-sallam’.
(Isha escorts the stranger in; the duo chatted unnecessarily, as the stranger sense the aroma of a delicious food and held PäChof talking on fictitious things.)

Stranger: I was just passing by and decided to come and say hello.
PäChof: Ohh! Hi and how is your family? I don’t think I miss you because I saw you last week at the mosque.

Stranger: You are right, as Muslims, it is good to visit your neighbors sometimes to know about their health condition. Rainy season has come and I hope you have cleared your farm?

PäChof: That should not concern you because you have no farm of your own.

Stranger: But something very delicious smells inevitably here.
PäChof: I only hope your nostrils are not deceiving you? The only thing smelling is the perfume I bought yesterday at the market.

(PäChof takes the bottle of perfume and spreads the whole place)

Stranger: PäChof, I can sense the smell of food and not perfume, what do you cook today?
PäChof: That is not your business, have you not heard the Adzan? Isha, go and bring me the kettle let me perform ablution.

Stranger: Ok I will be on my way to the mosque.

PäChof: I will catch up with you, let me give you a company; I must take bath before joining you. You know one must be clean before you pray.
(They walk towards the gate)

 Isha and Horeja chatting almost chuckle to laughter.
Horeja: Your father is just more than a comedian, I nearly spit out my lungs with laughter.

Isha: Look mother! He left his bead on the mat; he must leave it here because he doesn’t understand proverbs. How many times father puzzled him to leave but he wouldn’t dare.
(PäChof comes back)

PäChof: Horeja go and bring the food.

(They place the bowl to eat and then the stranger enters the compound again to take his forgotten bead)

Stranger: I left my bead here.

PäChof:  I know you will come back. You are so greedy and selfish. Let’s eat now.

(He opens the bowl not knowing that the cat ate all the fish in it and mixed the food upside down. They all look astonish and gazed at each other. )

PäChof: Horeja, who ate my fish I demand for an explanation before I will lose my temper.
Horeja: But darling, I don’t know who ate the food because we are all here; I only hope it’s not the cat?

PäChof: The cat! Modou go and bring me my cutlass.

Stranger: Ha-ha-ha, that’s very good for you.

PäChof: Get out of my compound you greedy beggar. I say you get out!

PäChof drove the stranger out and fetches his cutlass to kill the cat, as Horeja and Isha comforted him with laughter.
        


SCENE 5
It’s the second day of PäChof’s struggle; he is walking in the street absent mindedly and met the Naar at his shop.
  
Naar:  You look so worried my friend; let’s drink ‘Atayya’, what’s wrong with you?

PäChof: My mind is so much focus on fish-money that I hardly notice your presence, this is because I left nothing at home.
Naar: We don’t know fish-money in Mauritania; you Gambian men are just bearing a huge burden on you. That’s why you die so fast. But be patience things will be fine.

PäChof: I have heard that for years now, can you help me with two sons?

Naar: What do you me by two sons?
PäChof: You are pretty funny, you better be use to Gambian proverbs. The sooner you do that, the better for you. I mean two thousand dalasis.
Naar: Oh, don’t you think that’s too much? I can only give you one thousand dalasis.

  The Naar reprimanded him in a speech and seem to be more open to him as the passage of time makes them familiar to each other. He played tricks on the Naar and take money from him on credit, on his way home; he bought a hen and takes it home.

Fade-out


SCENE 6
Upon his arrival home, he flattered Horeja and the kids. In the event, Modou untie the string on the leg of the hen, he bought, and PäChof with his family run after the hen. He gave the hen to Horeja to cook.
 Before he could catch his breath, a woman walks in the compound.

Woman: Do you see a red hen around?

PäChof: Is this not—eh, Mariama, Amadou’s daughter? How could you be so impolite, were you not taught to greed elders?

Woman: I beg your pardon. All my mind was focus on my lost hen that I couldn’t greed you. ‘Assalamu-alaikum’. Do you see my hen?
(She knee down and greed them.)

(PäChof with his family gazed at each other looking completely startle. Hesitantly, he answered.)
PäChof: We have not seen any hen, not even a goat; neither a sheep enters my compound. Nor a human being than you. 

PäChof swears on his soul that he doesn’t see the hen and even help the woman search for her hen in his compound.
Whilst the hen boiling in the cooking pot.
He asks the lady to search in the neighboring compounds.

PäChof: Why not you search in the other compounds? Nowadays hens can fly like birds. They can even walk like human beings.

Woman: I hope so, let me go to Jobe Kunda and ask them.

PäChof: The sooner you do that the better for you.

(The woman upon leaving the compound unexpectedly bumps into uncle Pa-kajali.)
 Isha rushes to welcome her grandpa and sat him on the mat.

Grandpa: Can someone talk to me, this woman don’t look exactly comfortable about anything.

Isha: Ohh, grandpa, she lost a hen ‘wolie’ that’s what she frowned at.

PäChof: Don’t mind her, that neighbor doesn’t have respect for human liberty, but uncle, you did not even call to tell us you are coming.

Uncle: To call you for what? That’s a totally waste of credits and you know very well that things are so expensive at the village. How I wish to have a Qcell line to be able to communicate to you.

PäChof: Yes Uncle, atleast, you give me a call. You know here is very hard too, and I am thinking of growing groundnuts at your farm this rainy season because the way things are going here is not encouraging at all.

Pa-kajali: Just as I always advise you to go back to your roots, don’t you know you have completely dragged your feet from your heritage, since when did you miss your native land?

PäChof: Uncle, I will go there, the time has not come yet.

Pa-kajali: I presume is high time you think dependably and rely on agriculture.

(He engages his uncle and turns their topic into a discussion on old time memories. Till when lunch was served to them by Horeja. Pa-kajali enquired about the hen having known his nephew’s attitude, and upon knowing that he obtain it in an illegal way, he angrily leaves the compound with complains.)

Pa-kajali: I won’t eat a stolen hen, you are a complete thief, and how could you do this to your neighbor? Have you forgotten your norms?

PäChof: Uncle, if you want to eat, let’s eat and if you don’t want to, that’s the gate wide opened.

Pa-kajali: I will go, but always remember the saying ‘You always reap what you sow’.

(Pa-kajali left the compound with complains.)

PäChof: Go, who cares, just go, this hen will be eaten, go… Aaahhh!
Light fade-out.

SCENE 7
 PäChof goes out on a walk and upon his way home, he met with people he owed, he meets with one and persuades him, but the person tends to leave him with God. He ran back home thinking that he has escaped.

Horeja: But darling, the way you came back is worrying, hope everything is well with you?

PäChof: Yes honey, but if anyone asks for me, just tell the guy that am not in ok. Mark my words.

Horeja: Yes Sweetheart, your wish is always my command.
(A knock is heard on the gate)

PäChof: I recognize that voice and I know my ears will not deceive me; tell him that I am not here.
(Upon seeing the Naar, PäChof wraps himself in the mat he was sitting on)

Horeja: My husband is not here; he has an important thing to attend to and has left here since in the morning.

(Modou whispers to the Naar to sit and wait for him; because a mat alone can never stand. PäChof thinking that the Naar has gone back, unwrap himself from the mat, only to see with the Naar eye to eye. He exclaims and prays for the death)

PäChof: Saffu-Saffer, saff saffu saffer.

Fade out, end of Episode One.

Hope you enjoy reading this? And don't laugh alone--get others laugh out loud too. To be continued. 



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