Banjul International Airport, Yundum, The Gambia
I had been away from home for almost three years. Flying home was very exciting, except for the harsh treatment that I, and other Gambian citizens, were given at Banjul International Airport.
Ours was a direct flight from a European city. The regime in Banjul had become suspicious of Gambians returning home from western countries. On December 30, 2014, a little over a year before my trip home, a group of Gambians abroad had attempted to violently overthrow the autocratic regime of Yahya Jammeh. The dictator's guards at state house repelled the attackers and killed several of them. Since then, The Gambia had become an even more closed and tightly controlled nation—a sort of North Korea in West Africa.
Often Gambians returning home from overseas are subjected to thorough security screening. The dictator was in constant fear of another attack from Gambians abroad and was also determined to silence his critics most of whom live abroad.
At about 23:00 hours, our plane touched down at Banjul International Airport in Yundum and taxied to a stop. Once the doors were opened, the all familiar night breeze of the Smiling Coast of Africa rushed in much to our joy. My compatriots and I were happy to have arrived on home soil, but little did we know that we will be subjected to so much screening at the arrival gate of the airport. Once the bus dropped us off at the gate, a sea of airport security staff made it to us, most of them were friendly and helpful. They would offer to fill our landing passes with the expectation of being tipped. Tips are an important means of supplementing the officers’ meager income.
Once the landing passes were filled, we queued before a row of officers of the Gambia Immigration Department (GID). The officers’ job was cut out for them: Western tourists that were on the plane with us had their passports checked quickly and they proceeded to pick up their luggage. Myself and other Gambian nationals had a more thorough and rigorous screening. Our passports were checked, our finger prints taken and digital photographs of our faces taken too. I was asked where I was going. Taking off from Milan to Barcelona en route to Banjul in the early morning of that Saturday, I had said to myself I’m going home and when the plane touched down at the airport in Yundum, I thought I was home. The Gambia itself is my home. Therefore, when the officer from GID asked me where I was going, I was at a loss, and then some pain rushed in. Elsewhere, when citizens fly back home, they receive a warm welcome. Take for instance the arrival lounge at Washington Dulles International Airport in Virginia, where a soft spoken voice via the PA system would announce “American citizens, welcome home to the United States. In the case of my country, the repressive regime failed to recognise the country as the home of its citizens when they asked me where I was going. I had received better treatment in foreign lands. Thorough checks of my passport at London Heathrow Airport, Dulles International Airport, Malpensa Airport in Milan, Roberts International Airport in Liberia, etc., were all done with much more warmth and modesty.
As if the torment by the immigration officers was not enough, after claiming my luggage, I proceeded to the exit where plain clothes officers had to run my luggage through a scanner and then asked to physically inspect my big suitcase, something in it was suspicious, the officers alleged. As I walked past the plain clothes officers, one of them shouted at me, “Let me see what is in that book”. Indeed, I was holding a book, “The Journey for Justice” by Justice Assan B. Jallow, The Gambia’s former justice minister in the government of Sir Dawda Jawara. I was reading the book during the 6-hour flight to The Gambia. Justice Jallow’s memoirs reveal some bitter truths about Jammeh’s rogue regime in whose elements’ hands I found myself that night at the airport. I handed over the book to the agent. I was prepared for the worse—the agent could have deemed the book offensive to the government or as a banned publication and accuse me of reading and circulating false publication. Over the past two decades, a countless number of Gambians have been sent to jail on trumped up charges of "giving false information". Luckily for me, the agent only flipped through the pages and returned the book to me. He didn’t look at the title. As luck would have it, I was allowed to leave the airport, and on December 1, I had the privilege of being among the many Gambians who voted against Jammeh at the polls, brought an end to his 22-year misrule. Justice Jallow has also become the Chief Justice in post-Jammeh Gambia—dubbed “New Gambia”.
My fears at the airport were not just an act of a chicken-hearted young man. Jammeh’s rogue regime had become notorious for enforced disappearance of its enemies –real and imagined. It was just in 2013 that two Gambian-Americans who had travelled to the tiny West African country were disappeared by the dictatorship. It was a fate that other Gambians abroad have in mind whenever they are travelling to the country.
My trip to The Gambia turned out to be rewarding. I stayed in the country and was fortunate to be part of and witness the single most important moment in the country’s political history—the defeat of the dictator at the December 2016 polls. It is the hope of Gambians and friends of The Gambia that “New Gambia” will be a country governed by law and NOT the whim and caprice of the president; a country where Jammeh’s authoritarian caprice is replaced by the rule of law. This will certainly depend on what Gambians do or fail to do from now on. For democracy to flourish, the people must be in control of their politics.
Ours was a direct flight from a European city. The regime in Banjul had become suspicious of Gambians returning home from western countries. On December 30, 2014, a little over a year before my trip home, a group of Gambians abroad had attempted to violently overthrow the autocratic regime of Yahya Jammeh. The dictator's guards at state house repelled the attackers and killed several of them. Since then, The Gambia had become an even more closed and tightly controlled nation—a sort of North Korea in West Africa.
Often Gambians returning home from overseas are subjected to thorough security screening. The dictator was in constant fear of another attack from Gambians abroad and was also determined to silence his critics most of whom live abroad.
At about 23:00 hours, our plane touched down at Banjul International Airport in Yundum and taxied to a stop. Once the doors were opened, the all familiar night breeze of the Smiling Coast of Africa rushed in much to our joy. My compatriots and I were happy to have arrived on home soil, but little did we know that we will be subjected to so much screening at the arrival gate of the airport. Once the bus dropped us off at the gate, a sea of airport security staff made it to us, most of them were friendly and helpful. They would offer to fill our landing passes with the expectation of being tipped. Tips are an important means of supplementing the officers’ meager income.
Once the landing passes were filled, we queued before a row of officers of the Gambia Immigration Department (GID). The officers’ job was cut out for them: Western tourists that were on the plane with us had their passports checked quickly and they proceeded to pick up their luggage. Myself and other Gambian nationals had a more thorough and rigorous screening. Our passports were checked, our finger prints taken and digital photographs of our faces taken too. I was asked where I was going. Taking off from Milan to Barcelona en route to Banjul in the early morning of that Saturday, I had said to myself I’m going home and when the plane touched down at the airport in Yundum, I thought I was home. The Gambia itself is my home. Therefore, when the officer from GID asked me where I was going, I was at a loss, and then some pain rushed in. Elsewhere, when citizens fly back home, they receive a warm welcome. Take for instance the arrival lounge at Washington Dulles International Airport in Virginia, where a soft spoken voice via the PA system would announce “American citizens, welcome home to the United States. In the case of my country, the repressive regime failed to recognise the country as the home of its citizens when they asked me where I was going. I had received better treatment in foreign lands. Thorough checks of my passport at London Heathrow Airport, Dulles International Airport, Malpensa Airport in Milan, Roberts International Airport in Liberia, etc., were all done with much more warmth and modesty.
As if the torment by the immigration officers was not enough, after claiming my luggage, I proceeded to the exit where plain clothes officers had to run my luggage through a scanner and then asked to physically inspect my big suitcase, something in it was suspicious, the officers alleged. As I walked past the plain clothes officers, one of them shouted at me, “Let me see what is in that book”. Indeed, I was holding a book, “The Journey for Justice” by Justice Assan B. Jallow, The Gambia’s former justice minister in the government of Sir Dawda Jawara. I was reading the book during the 6-hour flight to The Gambia. Justice Jallow’s memoirs reveal some bitter truths about Jammeh’s rogue regime in whose elements’ hands I found myself that night at the airport. I handed over the book to the agent. I was prepared for the worse—the agent could have deemed the book offensive to the government or as a banned publication and accuse me of reading and circulating false publication. Over the past two decades, a countless number of Gambians have been sent to jail on trumped up charges of "giving false information". Luckily for me, the agent only flipped through the pages and returned the book to me. He didn’t look at the title. As luck would have it, I was allowed to leave the airport, and on December 1, I had the privilege of being among the many Gambians who voted against Jammeh at the polls, brought an end to his 22-year misrule. Justice Jallow has also become the Chief Justice in post-Jammeh Gambia—dubbed “New Gambia”.
My fears at the airport were not just an act of a chicken-hearted young man. Jammeh’s rogue regime had become notorious for enforced disappearance of its enemies –real and imagined. It was just in 2013 that two Gambian-Americans who had travelled to the tiny West African country were disappeared by the dictatorship. It was a fate that other Gambians abroad have in mind whenever they are travelling to the country.
My trip to The Gambia turned out to be rewarding. I stayed in the country and was fortunate to be part of and witness the single most important moment in the country’s political history—the defeat of the dictator at the December 2016 polls. It is the hope of Gambians and friends of The Gambia that “New Gambia” will be a country governed by law and NOT the whim and caprice of the president; a country where Jammeh’s authoritarian caprice is replaced by the rule of law. This will certainly depend on what Gambians do or fail to do from now on. For democracy to flourish, the people must be in control of their politics.