Amadou Jallow is Dead, but OJ is Not Gone: A Tribute Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

Should I save the face of the moon?

From Kartong to Koina

In the midst of politics,

The Gambia River's banks are afloat.

Death similar to that of the King of Fuladu

Grip us within four days.

Should funerals be the only means of uniting people?

Or should we just be thankful for having OJ Jallow Junction?

Gambians, they say, only celebrate you when you die.

To shed tears for a fallen

Intellectual

We must cry over papers.

Should I not write your silvery deeds on a golden plate?

To say that the illusion of death

Holds me bound.

And life is a carcass of dreams.

And a theater of illusion.

A man needs to die.

Why the tears of fear?

The screams in the streams

Tell me, Death, how do I piece it together?

Fragments of this national sorrow

 

Death upon death: yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Alieu K. Jammeh, Aja Fanta Basse, and Uncle OJ Jallow

Your names were once written in the sky.

The birds sang of your might and glory.

From Banjul to Sinchu Sorri, every child once ate your sweets.

Chocolate biscuits in your eyes, till death came and arrested you.

The verb "is" turned into "was."

Every sentence forced me to write it in the past.

Your records are broken; your names are turned over to 'rest in peace'.

 

You're gone, but your land will never fallow.

We are not all promised tomorrow.

From the mule hills of Futa Jalon to Futa Torro

Like Mikel Borough, but when I die, bury me in Sao Paulo.

 

A stream of sympathy follows.

Screams come in loud hollows.

The ground slips beneath our condolences.

My wings dare to break.

As my back bends in wake

But to pray for you, Uncle OJ, we must

On this dammed earth’s crust

Feeling my toes itch

Falling into a ditch

Saviour above reach

But to forgive

Heaven’s delight

Self, not to heal.

 

Beloved Uncle OJ Jallow

Heart, pure as snow

Your tainted soul

Dwells in a heart of gold

May Allah forgive you, I pray.

I swear to God,

I only wish you felt what I did.

If only you had,

You will kneel where I kneeled.

 

Remembering you is melting me,

Daily, I melt.

I only meant to do what I meant.

But if prophets can die, tell me,

Why not you, Uncle OJ Jallow?

‘Kulli-Nafsin-Zallikatul-Mawt’,

‘Kaalu-Inna-Lillahi-Waa-Inna-Illaihi-Raojo-on’

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