Opinion

Gambian Culture

By Fatoumata Waggeh, Bronx, New York
Far out east
There is a smiling coast
A coast of golden brown sand lifting palm trees and the color red, white, blue, green
A land where the rhythm of multi-colored birds soaring the sky
Taxies displacing natives to the busy pavements of Serekunda Market
The chant of a Quranic verse from the local mosque—the music that sustains its existence
Fula, Sonike, Mandingo, Wolof, Jola—the dialect of its beholders
People whom love, peace, unity are inscribed upon their hearts
War, hate—anonymous forces to their humble black souls
Land of yellow, hot Abea sizzling upon one’s tongue
And crimson red wongo quenching one’s thirst
Earth of young boys kicking sand-tainted balls in hopes of becoming the next “Under 17” player
And peanut farmer, baby strapped to her back,
Bent down upon the hot, beaming sun striving to produce her next year’s income
Ground of enchanted, vibrant waxes wrapped around voluptuous women’s waist
And Muslims pulling their mats from prescribed corners
In preparation of bowing down East to the Almighty
Home of the future key-holders of a new Gambia
Those who urban attire their youthful bodies hug
And the rising generation—educated,
Striving to become the guiding lights of a prosperous, advanced country
Soil of blackness, hatabinagu, mofungwu
Defined by the great legacies of Mansa Musa, Sundiata and the Timbuktu Empire
Gambia—the coast, land, earth, ground, home and soil to the courageous band of African slaves who on the eve of February 18, 1965 told their white masters—enchainment, no more.
The author is a first generation young Gambian American. She wrote the poem for the Gambian Cultural Event organized by the Youth Organization of The Gambia (YOG).

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