The last abuse

Perhaps you thought it’s a lie again

I had lied several times

That I will love you in your deathbed

But all I was, was a liar

But this time, I will wipe your feet

With my wet tongue, and amass the dust in my house

For this time,

Believe me, even though it’s for me

But I promise that my love is a white pigeon

Flapping its wings in the wild gyre

In search of you, buried in a starless night

Believe me one last time

Even though it’s for my interest

Even though it’s selfish of me

Perhaps you will stay

And listen to my last lies

I will coo to none but you

My lies will glue us.

 

Am at the edge now

I like old souls, old people and old shoes

I am at the horizon,

I like everything as old as me

Except you, fresh like lemonade

At least this time you could listen to my lies

Perhaps you could rest by my shoulders as we did in the tavern

Perhaps you could rest your tired eyes

Peeping deep into my watery eyes

Like we used to do in the meadows

Staring at the last lilies

Before they wilted, like our lost lust

Perhaps you will stay this time

And swallow my last beats

Of the last lies ready to eddy a sailor.

 

You made my heart beat so fast it shattered like glass in a slum

Perhaps, this time you could stay

And listen to my last breathe

That only counts your steady paces

Like a starlet held in time

I have tried thinking but being wary of my shadows

I have tried stopping my breath

But the thoughts about you

Dissuade me from all my humble thoughts about our parting

And here I am, ready to lick your earthed fertility

Here I am, ready to spew my final lies

Perhaps you will stay this time

And let us flock to the mirage of my lust

Perhaps you could listen to my last lies

That laying my head on your chest

Listening to your heartbeats

That’s the most safe and calm feelings in the world.

The End

Nothing wakes me than the turbulence in your eyes

And the sun is yours forever, as my perfect gift.

There’s nothing comparable with your streamlined waist

Running down your toned pelvic floor

To the slender, long legs.

And here I am, crucified to your love

But you don’t see the intense heat in me,

That I spew the weight of men

Who lift concrete bars on their heads.

My life is different, am like dew in smog

But you don’t know, that am a different breed

Our poles will never collide

We fly in disarray

Anointed in rustic charm

And amused by our hallucinations of being cared for

But none of this is true

We are poles that will never collide

Amidst all our cravings, they won’t be one.

You really don’t know that am not the shooting star

Am not the matador

Am rather the rustic nuisance to your parlance

Am the keen knife to your elegance

Until when you exfoliate

And become that dust at the hem of our existence.

 

Chasing waterfalls

What else, but my cocoon trapped in the wild

I chastised sanity and a glamorous journey

So none of my sins is cleansed

I am, but only a desperate, marooned despot

I am, but a reckless, lost feline

Chasing waterfalls percolating in a hot desert

 

Most men are jubilant for tearing down their throats,

They are glad to see their sinking ship loose its last price

Because they envelope the beauty of one woman, they only fall for one.

But not me, a dreadful sinner

Not me, a lost fiend

I am beautiful, but only on my hull

For I salute every page been folded in the city,

I wax for any frond that passes by,

Being silly to all the girls in the neighborhood.

 

And I never cared about my scars

Because I am, as they say, a perfect freak.

I never fight to end the decades of nasty hassles around their waists

They are never valuable to me

Their long days to satisfy me make them tasteless.

But that rather hardened me like steel out of a furnace

I adore them more, chasing waterfalls

Wanting more and more, of their wilting concords,

Chasing waterfalls, is my mark

But for decent men, guarding one woman is their savory quest.

Lolita

What if I feel this way for the rest of my life?

Skewered to her pulses

But can’t fully integrate.

 

I see her devout lines cascading the cocktail skin

But I can’t touch, can’t dig through

Her match is peeking through the high glasses

To part our grainy dale

For every breath I take every pace I embrace

She giraffe through the glass ceiling.

 

Lolita, I can’t kiss the loin of her oily cleavage

For her crip is higher on me, balancing every move

She wants to know why I fall in love for the mirage

And why I extol two lilies

When I could have only succumbed to an antidote

And gradually die in the blazing barchans,

Rather than in this labored end,

From the saints I thought could gush Perfumes of Paradise.

 

Lolita, I feel lost in a hot gyro

With no rim,

Lost between two stealthy flames

What if I feel this way for the rest of my life?

Digging for the missing jigsaw

Flipping through oodles of dirt

Wanting to embrace a fresh start

Wanting to be with my perfect dream

But that mirage is never seen,

But the two mistletoe stabbing my yearned heaven

What if I feel this way for the rest of my life?

What will be love then, biting my edge?

Where I feel like recasting my voice

But the last airwaves are locked

And here I am, ravaged by two lovers

And not sure of who to imitate

What if I feel this way for the rest of my life?

Crossing the ocean

Part of the ocean is more desert than brine
And my deliverance mirrored on the desert

I need a shower in your spring

And let your beams ravage my myopia

Aghast by their ravaging fangs.

Most men want to be revered,

But the doves in the citadel are cagy,

They coo, but to only one, at least one at a trod

And their hearts grow soft like silk.

I thought I had a spoil, for capping two lassies

But am tossed to the Bay of Fundy

Can’t hang for a minute longer

Am naked, buried in Rafflesia

With two birds draining my nectar

Each, piercing through my starkness

Wanting to resolve me.

Am urging for the last breath

For I have only a heart, that can solace one colleen

Am crossing the Marianas, without a pull

Lost in the gyre, trying to fulfill their choleric crush

But they fail to know that I am an oasis,

A withered petal carelessly hanging in the sun.

Chucking the wolf with a coalition government: Stratagems of the Third Republic 

  1.  The Political Economy of Successful Reform

A key constituent of the political success of a state is the attainment of a liberal economy and this economic advantage could only be possible through an economic and political reform. In a political context, the attainment of such a successful economic amelioration is always difficult and sometimes heartbreaking. Precisely, for the reformer, reform will always come with cost, including accruing grey hairs, but this must be addressed with boldness, perseverance and tactfulness. A point worthy to note is that reform is not a subject of entirely effacing a system, but adding to that system. Though change is fundamental to political success, the progress however goes with some hindering factors, and these, I belief, the new leadership must honestly face.

One possible hindrance is a difference in political ideologies of contending politicians or actors. The mending would mainly call for a shift in the perspectives of an already existing ideology (ideologies), which could possibly pose a challenge to the reformer. A major reason is that there will be opposition to this adjustment in ideology (ideologies) by a conservative group; and for the reform to be successful, the gap of misunderstanding between the contending entities must be filled. To be precise, the various political contenders must be willing to sacrifice parts or a part of their tenets for the benefit of the state and not for their individual (political party) boon.

However, a challenging question is, how could this gap be filled especially within a coalition government? The latter is the very nature of the Third Republic…a coalition government led by a ‘blurry’, independent president. How could a concoction of different political ideologies be fully married in order to yield the best days of the country, which according to the President, “are yet to come”? Moreover, as we usher our energies to attain the best days, I would like the leadership of the Third Republic to remember and abide by their very promise to the electorates and the Gambians at large: that the “Coalition 2016 Government will usher The Gambia into a new dawn of democracy, peace, freedom, and prosperity. By investing our time and resources in rebuilding our nation, The Gambia can once again be declared the smiling coast of Africa”.

In order to fill the gaps, the principal reformer (herein, the Government of The Gambia) must be bold enough to take a radical action, which even includes the very decision of making that reform. The whole idea of the modification must be clearly outlined and explained to all the stakeholders to clear the dust surrounding it. Emphasis, to this regard, must be on the interest of the state as primary to any other interest. Thus, political parties must be willing to surrender conflicting political ideologies for the interest of the state, which they are representing. In terms of the reformation, it must be gradually implemented and should have some flexibilities, especially where it fails to work well.

A second factor that can possibly affect a reform is patronage. In a system where politicians compensate the votes of electorates, the donations of political donors during campaigns, etc. with jobs in the civil service and state owned enterprises, or exemptions from fees and taxes and subsidized credits, it will be very difficult but not impossible to change such a system. Unless a leadership takes to a change in direction through a reform, corruption will only be the order of the day, thus a difficulty of attaining economic leeway for the state. I am not concluding or refuting that this is the case in the Third Republic, but by the very nature of how certain appointments were made in the previous republics, history could spur a pundit to question the perspicuity of some appointments in the current republic. To this, a wise word for the president of the Third Republic is that he should be one of the connoisseurs of the reform process as per the dictates of the Constitution of The Gambia. He should be mindful of his principal duty as he “shall uphold and defend this Constitution as the supreme law of The Gambia”. Like all sages, I belief that any person who should enter the civil or public service in any capacity should do so in line with either Chapter 2, Section 1 of the General Orders for the Public Service of the Gambia or as per the exceptions listed in the Constitution of The Gambia. A lack of proper handing-over of power marred by the past political impasse or any other factor should not be an excuse to or warrant any illegal appointment into the civil service or any public office.

A third factor that could retard the progress of a reform could be a lack of political support in the party or government. This is usually the case if the party or government opting for a reform lacks enough representatives at the legislature. In the context of the Third Republic of The Gambia, the nature of the Coalition Government and the outcome of the 2017 National Assembly elections put at stake the ability of the Barrow-led government to gain eminent political support for the reforms.

Let us look at the both, in order to understand the complexities. The first is the candidacy of the The Gambia Coalition 2016. It was a coalition of seven political parties and one independent candidate created to field and support a unity candidate for the Gambian opposition in the 2016 presidential election. The coalition selected the then chairperson of the United Democratic Party (UDP), Adama Barrow as their candidate. Thus, he officially left the UDP to allow him to run as an independent candidate, and he won the presidential election. With Barrow in power, one might ask his actual loyalty especially in terms of his political ideologies (if he has any at all by virtue of his candidacy). For the sake of the state, I have no doubt that he might, and is expected by the coalition members and the general populace to lean to the ideals of the coalition. However, to the UDP supporters, members of the former ruling APRC party, and some political pundits, he is still a UDP member, hence, a UDP President. Thus, whom should Barrow actually referee? This is left to the readers and the government of the Third Republic to answer.

The second complexity is the composite of the National Assembly and the factors that led to such a composition. The parties awarded seats in the National Assembly are as follows: UDP (31), GDC (5), APRC (5), PDOIS (4), NRP (5), PPP (2) and Independent (1). However, as a coalition government, most of the people expected the coalition government to have its candidates for the past National Assembly election, which could not materialize due to some disagreements within the coalition members, and each party finally went its way. Did we, as Gambians asked ourselves of the following: If the parties to the coalition government agreed to their former decision and had their candidates, would they have contested as independent candidates like the candidacy of Adama Barrow or what? If they contested as independent candidates and in the event of a collapse of the coalition membership, how would each National Assembly member of the defunct coalition government identify him/herself and would such an identification be fair to the electorates who awarded them such seats?

As per the discussed complexities in the previous paragraphs, where does the coalition President lean in order to garner the needed support for the aspired reformations? To tackle such a case, the leadership, I belief, should be in the position to furnish the actors with the relevant information regarding the need for that change or reform. The masses, in this case, should not be left in limbo. The politicians of the Third Republic should know that they owe much to the Gambians than to their individual parties.

Another factor could be the influence of bureaucracy in a governance system. Naturally, human beings are not normally ready to accept sudden change in status, especially if the change is perceived as negative. In order to maintain jobs or to continue enjoying easy life or the pleasure of exercising bureaucratic powers, public administrators are normally resistant to such changes. To curb such, reformers need to take firm stance to see that their reform policies work in that respect, else, it could lead them to failure.

In conclusion, both economic and political reforms, being it in an autocratic or democratic politics, must always be tackled with a boldface and smart decision-making processes. Without such approach, the cost will always be high and the pain to be inflicted on the reformer and the citizens will be tremendous. This is so because it could even cost the life of the party or government opting for such a reform.

(To be continued)

The cremation of a billion-year guru

Strange things happened in the folding nights to his cremation

Men rallied and women cried in their bits to foam the last sway

The trails, hurriedly patched while the world waited to see his last dust

The lights seized shinning the paths

Papers torn and inks spilled in the meandering springs

And the cremation seemed thin

The horde orchestrated night clambake,

The outfit waddled the courtyards

And priests veered the sunken artery

All, but to halt the unforgiven pyre of a billion-year captain.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By men hoping to plug the last purview

But nature stood deviant that he is cremated in midnight or limelight.

The savoir-faire have blanket avowal

That would run your blood numb

But all the world wanted, is the cremation of the billion-year tycoon,

And today, this cold Saturday, we isolated his shy remains into the same sea he ousted his gourmets.

Our chosen sword

It is said that time is limitless but our long day finally surrendered.

Saturdays will always come, but blooms wither differently

Sons and daughters, we fought differently:

Some held swords, wires and others a tip of a pen

We scribbled differently and sang in different tones

But our strains, our stanzas, our whacks were never different

We mated in a proposition.

And in our palms is the sprig.

Sons and daughters, it is said that time is immortal but our bit is to oar inland;

Our zoo, today, is not to tear, tirade or trash but to strive and work and pray,
that all may live in unity, freedom and peace each day.
Our hands and hearts tied to our backs, towards the common good.
Sons and daughters, let’s swallow our fat; pledge our firm allegiance and renew our promise;
Fight for our warrant, irrespective of our diverse people and thoughts.

A nation is born

Dawns had been long and weary-

Twenty-two years dissipated

Marred by shifty pounding of our remaining brains;

Daily rapes of our fervent flowers

And the unceremonious hikes of our daily bread.

Today, a nation is born from our strenuous strives.

They said the camels we had are barren

And wildy, we searched for the fertile youth

But it wondered farer from our trestle.

Never had we stopped wandering through the showering heat.

Finally the new nation is in our worried palms-

An egg facing a rash rock japping in our backyard;

a rosy garden coated with fusty quills.

From birth, most of us had chanted the sacred song:

For The Gambia our homeland,

We strive and work and pray…

But never had it come that cheap,

Babies grew to the wild children of social media

who strayed in the streets hunting for the last coins,

Some brewed green tea in unending terms

And others eddied in the howling waves of the Atlantic.

But the new day never came swiftly as anticipated

Rather, it came with costs beyond our earnings;

It came with tears that flooded our river;

And unending nervousness to our weak populace.

But today, we have a lofty dawn,

Thick clouds shadowing the course,

And days ahead full of dismay.

Comrades, split the colanut

A nation is born from our union

And today is the last we have to guard

No matter how costly it might lead us to sweat.

The youths are hopeful about the next pantry

They will not be uncultivated but to help pad the eager nation.

A contradiction of smiles

We had waited, waited in a keg, clouded by hairy heat,

The sun melting our rancid faces and no scarf needed to wipe the sweat

For the river went dry.

We never moved away, but moored to the torpedo

Silently, with our ‘maslaha’, we endured the pain, only for a smile.

We waited and waited, and our skins got drier than a lizard’s

Our throats dried out, our trunks elongated, crying for the lost parole

The eyes without tears; all shed along the unending journey.

We never moved away, because we ought not to empty the kraal

We waited for two decades, just to get the first smile on our faces

And today it came, amidst all the odds: anger, frustration and shallow fear.

We smiled, tried to laugh but you want to tether us again

You rant, especially on Fridays

And today, you try to smile, but do you think you can snare us with your mug;

After baptizing us in sleepless nights with fitful thoughts.

We will tell you that you can’t coax us anymore

Our smile, this kismet is our blood and we will lump the contradictions of smiles.