Michael Scales Says The Jailing Of Gambian Journalists Is A Big Disaster For The Gambia!

Dear Mr. Editor,

 I must confess I did not sleep last night. Instead I found myself at this machine, of so many words, sending more words to Gambians across the Atlantic. The words that flew back were Gambians. Strong and resolute and full of resignation to yet another day to come that brings forth sadness for so many. Tonight, though tired, my thoughts are with those cast behind the shadow of those prison walls. Which hot cell and smell, do those we look up to, see through tired eyes this evening. What thoughts do they think and which memory of faces and smiles do they crave the most. A wife, a baby, a son, a lover. Which bed is empty and what dish from breakfast remains unwashed. Who amongst those who cast their hatred into this liars lie of make believe sits with regret at what they have done.

I am a man who has failed to hate all my life. I cannot bring myself to hate. To your President I can find only pity, for in that pity lays the ever ready hand to help and ease the self inflicted pain of empty hearts. He gazes to his children and holds the hand of childish faith. Whilst other brethren are consigned to a first night of dignity lost and forward dreams of service now banished from view. What madness is this?

Where in Gods Kingdom does serenity lay, when innocent people who choose to serve are cast into a pit of injustice and by those we trust to protect our future. Now there’s the injustice, for justice is the villain of the peace here. Not the common criminal. Where is the character of the criminal to be found in these people. A teacher of 34 years and a Professional Journalist of 37 years. A mother who rose within her profession, now parted from the baby of her dreams and the future of her ambition. Real people and real lives of commitment to the future of a Nation.

Next time you hear that word development, think back to this day and remember what development means..to Sarata, Sam, Pa and Pap, Emil and Ebrima.

Next time you see another title bestowed upon ignorance, listen to the hearts that died today, for within that silent beat, cry's the death of a Nation. A deafening and fearful cry of anguish and pain. Like a storm tossed ship breaking  upon the rocks of doom.

I cannot hate, I am too weary to cry. But I can still feel. compassion. May our prayers lift Gods Love and Mercy to bring back those we shall sorely miss. For The Gambia is an empty rudderless ship without them.

 With my deepest regret...        Michael.