By Modou Nyang
That the desire for royalty in Banjul would ever come to pass has always been taken with a grain of salt by serious political pundits. But this one caught most if not all flatfooted. Partly maybe, because the coronation took place off-base and out of radar away in the land of modern-day mother of crowns where the art of crowning is best, the almighty Great Britain. Yep, Jaliba Kuyateh was crowned king in Bristol and the ceremony was fantastic. It was a spectacle to behold.
Even William and Kate were sure to be jealous and verily so, if not outright worried of an impending usurpation by the descendants of the dusted thrones of yonder years Kombo. But what is intriguing if not dumbfounding out of this royalty reinventing fanfare is how the one from Brikama beat or better put, first got to the throne before the one down the road and around the corner in Kanilai. The dude from Kanilai albeit having at his service the foremost of the bards in town, and the town criers and the other Jelis and the musicians both in town and across the river over the border, including the foremost and even the waning old guard and the imams and the priests and the DJ’s and not forgetting, the green boys and green girls or even yellow boys and yellow girls for they are said to sometimes cross-the-carpet over to the greener side for some green juice probably, and yes, the kingmakers, those at the venerable and honorable house. Confounding, isn’t it?
Baffling as it maybe to those pretending to have visited the vestiges of royalty and aristocratic Gambia into the graveyards of history, the pulling of such a marvelous feat was fast if not furious. The awakening, rude as it may be, is that the dreams of royalty, kings and queens, paramount chiefs, imam-ratibs and nasiru-deens or mullahs and caliphs is alive and kicking, even if it requires emigration to the fringes of the palaces and castles of England to bring them to light. Immigration certainly do culturally impact the psyche of the immigrant and for the benefit or misfortune of it in England, is that you got to revel in royalty or better still mimic the rituals if not living the lifestyle.
Matter of fact, the crown king at Brikama near the Nyambai forest where land is still abound even if forestation will have to give way for the erection or construction of a castle or palace of grandiose style and structure, maybe similar to the one at Buckingham or someplace in the blistering climes of Nordica, may not have anything to do with his fast-pulling feat to royalty. Others can jostle, hustle and lobby for chairmanships or secretary generalships all they want, the now crowned king didn’t bother with any of that he just happened to be a guest of some anglicized Kombonka’s who may be reliving the lost glory and majesty of old Kombo.
Hold no grudges proud sons of Nuimi or Fuladu or those of Sine-Saloum or of up-land Wuli and Kantora, hold your peace for a moment. Even if the fearless Burungai Sonko and his brave army of Nuiminkas chased the heavily armed Brits out of Barra back into Bathurst that the Kombonkas gifted them because it was standing waste, you still got to give way for you have been out paced to the house of lords for the enactment of the coronation reinvention bill. Maybe it is because you neglected your history or worst, have gone hiking in the Appalachia’s of America or the French Alps or wandered south across the Mediterranean into the Nubian desert, forayed into Egypt and showed-up somewhere in Libya. You went AWOL leaving the trenches unguarded at the mercy of rogues and vagabonds to commit high treason against the sacred crowns.
This is more why you got to keep calm and stay out of this for you allowed those hoodlums to desecrate and bring dishonor to royalty and monarchy. Again, no giraffe-ing especially you the Nuiminka’s considering that you stood idly by allowing the Brits take your king across the river and dump him at Mile II. What a calamity! Dare you say you did not help make the place what it is today, a hotel where not only kings and queens are entertained but also those that court sedition and flatter with high treason? Same foolhardy that the Yanks and the French and the Egyptians and the Libyans did, so please excuse us and step aside we want our kingship back and we not pleading with any Boko haram terrorist for our inalienable right.
The urge for royalty in the lands bordering the river is begging ignition but where it is headed for may have been the least expected. Royals are cool bedfellows with kingmakers since one cannot exist without the other, the kingmakers in Banjul today are determined at planting the kingdom in Kanilai and nowhere else. Yep, kanilai, in Foni. Are you jealous? Who says royalty cannot be invented out of obscurity? Who is born into this world with kingly garments or a crown on their head? Haven’t you seen Ndi Igbo now also have kings and queens, never mind if it is only in Nollywood. Who cares? You just got to have the title before your name: Dr. Chief Eze Igwe Engineer Nwafor. So chill and allow Foni to enjoy its rein, and remember even China went handy from one dynasty to another so this is Foni’s turn.
Yes, from one dynasty to the other and now it is Foni’s. Never mind the coronation was sleek and threw all intelligence off-guard, but to save the grass from suffering as they say at the Bantaba, the road to Kanilai from Brikama is smooth and well tarred, you may revert and head to Banjul it just makes it shrewder. Astuteness is a virtue and not a weakness you know right, as Machiavelli conferred with the Medici’s never mind this time it is not for the same purpose of republican state building that is already in place. This one is to keep the peace. Prudential! Remember, it is from one dynasty to another one king, one president, one pope and one caliph at a time.
This is serious business, no pretense whatsoever. Did you not notice time and again if ever you’ve been in doubt the unmasking if only for your lack of sight, should have been when that Moor or Berber called Muhammed from the Atlas ranges came to town. The glee and gait was unpretentious. There it was, right there in town a model of what of how it should be, want to be.
Wonder why every successful Gambian or chest beater is associated with some flicker of royalty or other hollowed highness? If you did it will be self consoling and excusable of the royalty reengineering Kombonkas. It is either a linkage with the bygones of Nuimi, or of Mama Tamba or of Maaba or of The Molloh’s or of Kumba Ndofan or that of the grand priest or the seringe or cherno. There were even a couple of sir’s and who knows a sir Ebrima is in the offing? But what matters for now is that everyone, all of us, nobody left out, are of royalty and of greatness. And if you think that is no good for being a republic and not a democracy, I say keep it if you can.