Adieu Dr. Peters

The literary community in The Gambia or perhaps lovers of poetry are mourning the death of one of Gambia's greatest poets. Dr. Peters died on Wednesday after what some close associates described as a relatively short illness.

Lenrie Peters, aged 76, a veteran surgeon cum writer, passed away in the early hours of Wednesday, at Hopital Dentec in Dakar, Senegal, Daily Observer can reveal. The late Lenrie Peters was reported to have succumbed to heart failure.

When contacted, Bijou Peters, sister to the late Dr Peters, confirmed her brother's death. She said that Dr Peters had been admitted at Westfield Clinic for a week before being moved to the Royal Victoria Teaching Hospital's Intensive Care Unit, from where he was later referred to Hopital Dentec in Dakar, Senegal.

Dr Peters, a well known surgeon got his qualification in England where he had his training during which he specialised in Surgery. He was also a member of Fellow Royal College of Surgeon (FRCS) in UK. Dr Peters had his career training as a surgeon in England before he returned home to serve his country. He also worked at the RVTH and Bansang Hospital before he met his death while serving at a private clinic, (Westfield Clinic). The late Dr Peters was also a philanthropist. He had also been awarding a scholarship to the best medical students at the University of The Gambia, initiated some three years back.

[ With imputs from Daily Observer's Musa Ndow]

A special feature on his legacy will come on GRTS news on 29th May 2009

The Gambia on the move...

Suffice it to say history was made on African Liberation Day 25th MAY and on the 44th birthday of the President His Excellency Professor Sheikh Alh. Dr. Yahya AJJ Jammeh, The Gambia Television launched it satellite channel on Intel Sat: frequency 4041.3.

It was not only a day of speeches, or a day for GRTS staff, rather it was just like the day the Iranian President Ahamadinejad launched its satellite to space, and exclaimed: 'dear Iran, your children have launched its satellite to space...' It was a big event in the country.

Like Iran, The Gambia too has for the first time in its media history sent Tv signals to the international community, perhaps sending a clear message that the best is yet to come.

Since the satellite was launched, never has the Gambian audience being more expectant, infact some local papers have written lengthy articles giving their suggestions on what they think the national broadcaster should do. As for the general public, a lot of people have suddenly becomed Tv vets.. everyone is giving their suggestion on what should be done to give the Tv a new leash of life.


Because its new, or perhaps the new possibilities that are likely to come in the not too distant future, a teeming mass of unemployed Gambian youths have started updating their Cvs for a job at GRTS. Like CNN, ALJAZEERA or BBC, some Gambian youths beleive this time its GRTS turn to show the whole world what it means to be on the satellite grid...

As part of the celebrations, staff of GRTS are warming up for a big party this Saturday.

Back to base

Arriving in The Gambia by land after leaving the country by an aeroplane clearly shows how dramatic and unpredictible developments can be recorded within a relatively short period. The point of emphasis here; is about the fate of dozens of passengers who were stranded on Tuesday at the Leopold sedar Airport because of the present crisis facing Air Senegel International. So what did we do when we landed at the airport in Dakar?

We [meaning Ebrima and Pierre] had to hire a taxi when we discovered through one young lady that we had two options: to purchase another ticket costing 310 dollars being cost of a one way airticket OR find another alternative. After the ordeal at the Indira Gandhi Airport regarding the 'sparks' with the 'controversial and confusing' tax payment. I know that if The Gambian spirit had not been there I would not have joined the flight. The other day, I argued with him that 'we' were exempted from the airport tax, he even confirmed it with one of The Ethiopian employee in Delhi. The dramatic scene with the Ethiopian employee once again indicated to me the unpredictible aspect of everything in life; the moment somebody tells you something; the next minute things can change.

In Banjul

My first impression of the city is the number of street lights have been fitted along the highway. This is undoubtedly giving Banjulians another opportunity not to leave the settlement that have been occupying for many years. True, many have left due to a number of factors, but there are still some pockets of 'die-hard' Banjulians who are ready to live in the city as long as it takes.

Then I moved into my home, at least some changes but my interest area was at our office; we have read in the Point newspaper that at long last; GRTS was closer to connecting to the satellite grid. Waw! this was one of the most interesting piece of news for us as foreign journalism students studying development Journalism in India.

As I continue to reconnect with friends, I discovered that the famous Nigerian rappers P Squarre are in town, and like Sizzla and Morgan fans, P Square by and large,have a large following especially among the small boys and girls. Some of them like ' I do you' song.

Its also amazing to notice the changes at the national television - new programmes and some new and old faces. Yea... truly, I have arrived, though not yet settled.... far from it.

MEET IN BANJUL

I wonder how the boys at the hostels will feel when all the students leave tonite for their respective countries. So far, three quarter of the students have left the Institute after successfully going through the Development Journalism Programme at the IIMC.

It was a touching moment for some of the students last night when Temwa ( from Zambia) plus his wife and Barasa (Barasa) from Tanzania packed their bags waiting for the taxi to airlift them to the Indira Gandira Gandhi International Airport (IGI). Of course, it goes without saying that airports the world over are most of the time busy, but according to my findings, save for Singapore airport, IGI is considered one of the busiest airports in the World. During the winter in January, at a time when the foggy weather was at it peak, in a day some two hundred flights were grounded due to the disturbing weather. Imagine some airports especially the ones in Africa, at times one can say see it from the body language of the airport officials that there is virtually little or no traffic during the course of the day.

Of all the students at the IIMC, I was only one who went to the airport thrice during the course of my studies in Delhi, infact last night, Barasa called me the Chief Airport Escort Officer. My first visit there was the night I went to see off my Nigerian friend Pastor Reginald Facah, who was also one of my many class mates. We have a lot in common; I will tell you why.

Firstly, he likes watching football especially the Champions League and The English Premiere League, though he claims, he supports no team. Due to the amazing time difference, for us, the timings were structured in such a way that if we want to watch the matches we had to go to bed around 3am the next day. Secondly, Pastor Facah likes interacting with Gambians, no wonder when we were in Nanital, he came to see Pierre on several occasions.

Thirdly, he once he once asked me to shoot his last sermon in church, so he was the first person to take me to an Indian church as a video cameraman. Sometimes, he would prepare Nigerian food and invite all his African brothers. One thing that will forever stay in our memories is Facah's philosphy toward India, Indians, the lecturers, the length of the programme etc. He once asked one of the senior editors of ZEE news Tv whether he liked women.

My second visit to IGI was just two days ago, when my friend from Mauritius Karuna Lalloo was returning, like Facah, Karuna has been very kind to everyone moreso the Gambian duo in Delhi. She had made a point of duty to boil tea and put it in her flask for us to drink mostly during the winter. We owe her million of thanks, forgive me for this sloppy expression but these are facts. When her husband decided to her at the hostel in Delhi, I have realised more than ever before the beauty of love, and the spirit of married life. At least, I learnt from her the need to manifest one's love and always to standby your vow 'never betray the love of your life' no no matter what happens. Her understanding of philosphy and metaphysics have impacted positively on her way of doing things, the Karuna way.

As for Temwa, he is someone I would not hesistate to call a man who lead many lives, firstly he works for the P.R Department in the Parliament of Zambia, a Computer programmer, a backing vocalist and the same time an intellectual. Of course, he spends money frivolously, some of us were shell-shocked when we discovered that his office paid him more than (One grant dollars) for his perdiem in Delhi. He was also kind, and sympathetic to the cause of girls. Let me stop here because, if I proceed there may be a mini quake in Lusaka. And finally, he had a nice time with his wife who joined him from Lusaka toward the tail end of the programme.

Barasa was also another outgoing chap, at age 27 and a graduate, he works as a Sports Reporter for a government newspaper in Tanzania. One outstanding quality that these SADC boys have ( I mean Temwa and Barasa) is their sense of humour; the duo can make you laugh the whole day. No wonder they belonged to the Kingfisher club. As a die-hard Liverpool supporter, and the fact I'm blue, Pierre was Man U, we had our own caboodle if you like. When it comes to perspectives on football, Barasa knows his carrots. Sometimes, he will make his predictions and most of the time they come to pass.

Next is Agatha, somehow he calls me my brother-in-law, so don't expect me to spill the beans, but for the sake of the record, I would like to thank her for the support she has been rendering to the Gambian team in Delhi, she is truly a mother, a sister and a close confidente.

The bad news is that while most of us have packed our bags and ready to fly, little did many of us know that if we go beyond the required kilos we are supposed to carry we will have pay 15 dollars per kilo. So for the past few days, the weighing machine have been making the round from one room to the other. Woe betide me if I have pay extra. What should I do throw away my valuables, then that will make news in Tanzania because Barasa is already home he will pick it and say 'Chief Escort Officer....

Hey thank you, Namaste, I love India, and love Indians.

Confessions: The curious case of a dreamer

The music in the background had been playing on repeatedly; each time the sound went down, Gorrel thought he could soon sleep, beleiving that the party or whatever was going on around the neighbourhood was over. What was more disturbing for him was the monotony of the sound, it kept on grinding, each time he remove the hands from his ears.

The author: Ebrima Baldeh

Gorrel has never felt this way; to live a life of boredom; at least poor as he was, in his village of nativity he commanded respect, pride and power. Infact, no one dare challenge him when it comes to doing what he thinks is the best. Now, he was locked up in a fierce battle with a force which is capable of exposing his weaknesses; face with the task of telling the people at the party to stop their madness, but he changed his mind when he thought about the consequences, after all he was just another refugee.

The music was strange; so was the situation in which he found himself, if anything Gorrel has realised that no one can be a King in your own village and expect to assert your power in another man's land. May be others are capable of doing it, but in this case, Gorrel has completely ruled himself out.

Throughout the night, Gorrel could not even blink his eyes, he could not even think properly because the sound from the neigbourhood penetrated his mind and rendered him useless. Philosphers have come to the conclusion that the best time for rational thinking during one's moments of solitude is during the silence of the night when the galaxy of stars shone brightly.

Somehow the music started to fade at the start of the early morning prayers, unconsciouslessly the poor lad fell asleep and started dreaming.

A briefcase-trotting journalist approached him and urged him to get up and run away because organisers of the party had stopped the music just to come and beat him. The man repeatedly told Gorrel to get up and run away, this people know you very well, they want to humiliate you...

Whether he was under a spell or not, Gorrel attempted to get up the 'kibo kibo gal' ( Fooish devil) could not allow him to do so; he heard the man shouting to me, he could neither talk nor move his body. It seems he heard the footsteps of people walking toward his house, now the enemies are finally here he said in his mind. According to our cultural orientation, the kibo kibo gal usually appear before people who are depressed or disillusioned; what it does appear it makes the individual afraid so that you will wake up and remember him.

At long last, he has been freed after struggling for several hours to get up, just as he was about to open the door; someone knocked on the door. There was no need for him to open, Gorrel thought the enemies have now surrounded him and ready to kill him, suddenly he decided that his fate was in the hands of God, that whatever happens he would know that it was predestined. The door was flung open; no one was insight. The fear that had engulfed him in his dream had succeeded in reducing him another man, a coward and hopeless being.

When he went outside to find out the individual who knock on his door, he saw Professor Chara returning from his early morning walk, Gorrel did not know what to tell the Professor who was fond of asking so many questions. ' I had a dream that I'm running with you, but you were faster than me... infact I could not catch up with you suddenly I woke up' Gorrel thought this was the best way to tell the story; he did not want the Prof to look at him like a coward.

Prof. Chara urged him to translate the dream by sporting on his vest and shoes and hit the ground running to regain his consciousness. There, he went running like an animal by haunted by some evil spirits or a group of matchete -wielding men.

The point is that boredom can lead you to madness thats why I decided to write this piece to share with you the untold story of Gorrel who was virtually obsessed with anything foreign, it shows that if you are consumed in thoughts, you tend to visualise certain images in your mind, those things sometimes appear in the form of a queer dream, like the one Gorrel had.

A Night to remember

In the beginning it was like this but on Friday night it was not.

Things were not supposed to be that way, but anyway it ended up the wrong way at the wrong time. I'm talking about our so-called graduation or farewell reception held Friday evening at the Reading cum Recreation Room.

When we landed at the Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi we were not thinking of picking up of enemies here, most of us thought that we have at long last come to learn from this great country and above all learn from our colleagues. I have never thought that coming to India would turn out to be like Friday night (8th May)

It would not be fair, considering the other side if I say-it-all, or narrate the circumstances

surrounding the case, it would be a disappointment for Dr. Arnand Pradhand, my lecturer on media law and ethics. If anything, he would say what he taught me did not stick, so I would not go into the specifics.

The point I'm making is that during the course of the programme, there were people in the class who were not on talking terms, it was supposed to be resolved on Friday night during the farewell party but this was never the case. Instead mid way during the party some people like Pierre and Chukwudi suggested that the people involved should reconciled and shake hands, again this gesture suffered a major setback.

One person was heard saying she can forget but she will never forgive because its about [that] person's country, and that [ that] individual was not going to take it lightly. And then another person said he was not asking forgiveness because what [happened] was not a sin, adding it was not sinners who ask for forgiveness.

An olive branch was extended to a girl, she vehemently refused to shake hands, like the first person she also refused to honour the reconcilation from an African brother. So for me it was really a night to remember, I have never seen something like this before, no matter what offence someone has created, the moment the other person is ready for mend fences, the other person in the case should honour it.

The farewell party continued with a Kingfisher drinking competition till the early hours of the morning.

Front view of The Indian Institute of Mass Communication

Ah it's Pralhad Giri...

Well a lot of people weren't surprised at all, especially those who were monitoring developments in the class thats why when his name was asked to pick the best student award, it was stale news. Pralhad Giri, a native of Nepal holds a Master's degree in sociology and has a wealth of knowledge on current affairs, and Tv documentaries. Having made a name for himself in his country especially in the area of conducting interactive Tv programmes on burning social issues affecting the youths of Nepal, Pralhad came to IIMC as 'ready made' student.

At the start of the programme, Pralhad had some rough moments with his colleagues, whether it was by design or accident, most of the Development Journalists had little or no time for him. However, with time, the outgoing, and sometime arrogant Nepalese decided to turn a new page and 'let bygones be bygones' This notwithstanding did not in anyway change the way some of his colleagues perceive him, like the proverbial snail that tries to cast off it shell, but he couldn't.

Like in every humanbeing he has a good side too, his creativity in terms of Tv shooting and editing put him ahead of most people in the class and not only that he also applied some of the skills he acquired over the years on the Development Journalism programme.

Congrats Chuks, Karuna and Temwa, they have really worked very hard to be among the chosen few, as for Jesus his award was long over due. His artistic writings put him ahead of the rest of us.

Good luck.

Do you like women?

As we prepare to leave India at the end of an academic and professional programme; we've learnt some many new things from the class and even among our colleagues. However, there are certain things that we are likely to forget as we prepare to return to our respective countries, but the bottomline is that there are few things that I have noted. Just imagine: We visited Zee news studio and one of our collegues was unforgiving when he asked our the news editor, 'do you like women'.

The question was as fast as the bullet from the gun, not only were we shell-shocked about the question, we thought we had to apologised. There he stood, defending himself: 'Why did the news editor told us to ask him any question, for me if anyone make such declarations I have no option but to ask him anything under the sun'.

Then another fellow from Nepal wanted to take us for a ride at the start of the programme, no wonder toward the end of the programme he confessed to me that he was bully during his university days. In fact, he told that if I were in his country, he would have shown me 'blue and black' . It all started at the reading cum Tv room, he wanted to watch a programme at a time we were also watching football, we had some rough exchanges, then he lose his temper and decided to damage the remote control.

And finally, the man from Nigeria who holds a Master's degree in English, I don't know why some girls were afraid of him, oh I remember it has to do with what was right and wrong. As the Editor-in-Chief of the Echo magazine, he had some problems editing the scripts of some of the students who had little or no experience in development related issues. There are people in the class who said he asks a lot of questions, and that the questions are unusually long.

My Mexican friend told one of our lecturers to his face; I don't like you. ( Hey, let me stop here, I have told its time to go in for the convocation).

The dogs at IIMC.

Home, sweet home

He was the last person to come, yet he wanted to be the first person to go; I don’t know why Pastor Reginald Facah allowed Matildes Galvis from Colombia to storm Indira Gandhi International Airport before him.

In the meantime, the 18 Development Journalists from 13 countries (sorry 14) are warming up for the much talked about convocation ceremony this Friday (8th) May.

Jesus Hector and company are trying to sharpen their voices so that during the convocation ceremony some of the lecturers will just jump on stage and join the party. Like for some of us, singing Kumbuya had little or no meaning to our lives; that’s why we decided to join the ranks of the Malaysian crew who from the onset never participated in this 'madness. '

Well in few days time, it will be over for the 52nd D.J class, it will be another moment back home, explaining what you have learnt or put another way: what India is all about…
Some will use the opportunity to talk about the friends they made, the people they saw, the food they eat, and the places they visited.


Being away from one’s family, office, neighborhood or country is like being an orphan; only that you learn to overcome these problems by staying in touch through telephone or the internet. A good number of the development Journalists on this batch have never been away from their homes this long.


In class, we have heard about stories of people who had night mares about their countries, there were others who constantly dreamt about their wives. Others were quite temperamental and in some cases there was those who always wanted to fight till the last atom of their strength. And lastly the class was a good mix; if you like call it clash of generations.

As for the outings, I have to admit that Orccha was just too great.

Barasa from Tanzania & the lady from Bogota