Journey for Justice

By Hassan B. Jallow

Journey for Justice combines autobiography with law and political memoirs to provide a fascinating account of growing up in rural Gambia and of the authors recollections of, involvement in, and reflections on some of the major social, legal, and political issues in the Gambia during his tenure of public office in that country. This is valuable reading for all those with a serious interest in the history, politics, governance, and development of law and legal institutions in the Gambia, and indeed beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477223468

Hassan B. Jallow

Hassan B Jallow was Attorney General and Minister of Justice (1984 to 1994) and Justice of the Supreme Court (1998 to 2003) of his country The Gambia. He has also served extensively at the international level as a Judge if the Appeals Chamber of the UN Special Court for Sierra Leone,Judge Ad Litem of the UN International Tribunal for Former Yugoslavia(UNICTY) and Member of the Commonwealth Arbitral Tribunal.The author has also served as Chief Prosecutor of the UN International Tribunal for Rwanda (UNICTR)(2003 to 2015) and Chief Prosecutor of the UN Mechanism for International Criminal Tribunals(UNICTY)(2012 to 2016) with the rank of Undersecretary General of the United Nations. He is married with five children. He is the author of several books, including Journey For Justice ,The Law of Evidence,The Law of the African Charter on Human and People's Rights, Prosecuting International Crimes : Recollections and Reflections and The Wird(zikr) of the Tariqat Tidjani He is currently the Chief Justice of The Gambia since 2017.

Book preview

JOURNEY FOR JUSTICE

HASSAN B JALLOW

US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2012 by HASSAN B JALLOW. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/15/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2348-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2347-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-2346-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Dedication

Chapter One

July 1994—Coup D’etat

Chapter Two

Early Years

Chapter Three

First Steps At The Oau

Chapter Four

A Constitutional Challenge: The Special Criminal Court Act (Act No. 10 Of 1979)

Chapter Five

An Unconstitutional Challenge—30Th July 1981 Attempted Coup D’etat

Chapter Six

The Senegambia Confederation: Marriage And Divorce

Chapter Seven

Solicitor General

Chapter Eight

Attorney General And Minister Of Justice

Chapter Nine

Reforming The Law

Chapter Ten

Strengthening The Machinery Of Justice

Chapter Eleven

Integrity In Public Life

Chapter Twelve

Governance

Chapter Thirteen

Early Political Duties

Chapter Fourteen

Heading For Mansakonko

Chapter Fifteen

Mansa Konko—Fifth Ppp National Congress

Chapter Sixteen

General Elections Nineteen Ninety-Two

Chapter Seventeen

Nineteen Ninety Three-Ninety Four

Chapter Eighteen

1994 Coup D’etat—Postcript

PREFACE

I have had the privilege of serving The Gambia as a Law Officer for a period of seventeen years. For much of that period—indeed for a full decade from July 1984 to July 1994—I had the good fortune to serve as Attorney General and Minister of Justice and in that capacity as the First Law Officer of The Gambia in accordance with the Law Officers Act, Laws of The Gambia.

As prosecutor, legal adviser, Cabinet Minister, member of several organs of the ruling Peoples Progressive Party (PPP) and Ex Officio Member of Parliament it is inevitable that I would, particularly over such a considerable period, be involved in some of the major policies as well as operational decisions of the state touching on combating crime, legal advice, litigation, legislation, political party and national political activities, law reform, governance issues as well as improvement of the machinery of justice.

No recollection can encompass all the events, great and small. There must be some selection, based essentially on a consideration of what may be of national significance and therefore likely to be of interest and concern to the generality of the public. Other considerations such as national security, concern for the feeling of others, etc. must necessarily further limit the range of issues and events dealt with in this work. What I now offer the reader is the product of such a selection. I hope the reader will find it interesting and useful in perhaps understanding better some of the major issues of law and politics which faced The Gambia between 1977 and 1994, and perhaps beyond.

This is not an autobiography although I have felt it necessary to include a description of my personal and family background; it is not a diary either. I have approached the subject more on a thematic basis rather than as a daily recollection of events, except with regards to the early nineties. That has both advantages and drawbacks: the advantage of putting together what is essentially part of the same process, with the drawback of thereby having to go forwards and backwards in time and of repetition. I pray the reader to forgive any inconvenience caused by this methodology.

Our people, like those everywhere, are entitled to an accurate, frank and honest public record of the major national events that touch on their lives and shape the future of the nation. One of the ways in which this entitlement can be realised is for those who have been engaged in such events to set down in writing their recollections of and reflections on such events. And in that way contribute to a better understanding of our history and to greater readiness for the challenges that lie ahead. That is my motivation for engaging in writing this book.

I recognize this is a very difficult task. One runs the risk of hurting some people. Let me say at once I have no such desire—to hurt, disparage, embarrass or ridicule any person, or institution. I have deliberately tried to avoid this by omitting references to the identity of persons in certain difficult situations for instance. If I do fail in this process I already apologise profusely in advance to any whose feelings may be hurt by what I have written.

I have never entertained any regrets for my choice of law as a vocation and of the public service as my career base. Every community is served by many great professions—the engineer, the teacher, the soldier, the doctor, the religious leader, the lawyer. The lawyer’s task is to enforce justice in the community. The legal profession, of all the vocations, is the only one that carries the appellation—honourable. It is one that it rightfully earned both generally and by The Gambia Bar given its record of commitment to truth and justice.

More honourable still is the lawyer who places his professional skills in the public service for the wider benefit of the community. Equally compensating to such a legal practitioner is the satisfaction of public service and the opportunity to play a role in the shaping and formulation of appropriate legal responses to the burning issues of the time.

For all this great privilege and honour I must return thanks first to Allah (SWT) for his protection, guidance and blessing and for everything I have enjoyed in life; to my parents Sheikh Alhaji Bubacar Zaidi Jallow (RA) and Cherno Jahou Jagne (RA) for my upbringing on the basis of Islamic principles and the importance of love for justice, charity and humility and for instilling in their children, among other things, a commitment to public service. To my spouse Haja Fatou Jaye Jallow, my children, Bubacar Zaidy Jnr, Muhammed (Papa), Habib, Aisha, Malick, Maram and all the members of my family, immediate as well as extended, who throughout my tenure of office and indeed my life, continued to provide the comfort, support and encouragement necessary to be able to discharge my various functions especially during those very difficult days in 1994; to Alhaji Sir Dawda Kairaba Jawara G.C.M.G., G.M.R.G, first President of the Republic of The Gambia for appointing me to the high office of Attorney General and Minister of Justice in July 1984 and for renewing my appointment subsequently on two occasions—1987 and 1992—thereby enabling me to put my services at the disposal of our nation at that high level. I am confident, as all fair-minded persons will be, that Sir Dawda will be adjudged by posterity to have been a Statesman who genuinely believed in and respected the rule of law, fundamental human rights, legality and constitutionalism. To serve under a Statesman of such qualities guarantees for any incumbent Attorney General that indeed the battle for legality and good governance is an easy one from the onset. To the other Law Officers—my immediate lieutenants and successive Solicitors General Raymond C. Sock and Amie N. Bensouda, the Directors of Public Prosecutions K. Gyeke-Dako and Mr. Onadeko; Parliamentary Counsel Mr. Lebrecht Hesse, Cherno S. Jallow and Janet Sallah-Njie; previous Law officers with or under whom I had the honour to serve: M.L. Saho, F.E M’bai, S.K. Obrien-Coker; W.G. Grante, I.S.B. Mboob, A.N.M.O. Darboe and all the other law officers too numerous to name individually; Chief Justices Sir Philip Bridges, E.O. Ayoola and B.A. Omosun; successive Presidents of The Gambia Court of Appeal, Honourable Justice Forster, Honorable Justice Livesey Luke and Honourable Justice P.D. Anin; to the Bench and The Gambia Bar—it was all of us working together as members of the honourable profession imbued by common ideals and a commitment to improving the quality of justice that made possible many of the advances of that era in strengthening the machinery of justice in The Gambia.

To my former colleagues in Cabinet, in the House of Representatives and in the rest of the Public Service, with whom we struggled and succeeded in many respects to make The Gambia a better place and a beacon of hope to our people.

I am greatly indebted to the Hon. Cherno S. Y. Jallow, Attorney General of the British Virgin Islands, Omar A. Sey, Saidou Ndow, Baa Tambadou, Ousman Jammeh, Alhaji Marong, Lamin Ceesay (B) and many others for their suggestions for improvement of the text, some of which have been taken into account. Any defects which remain are my responsibility.

To my friends Wil Colom and James Parkinson for their support.

Finally but by no means the least, my gratitude goes to Tina Macauley-Coker, Mama Khan, Khadijatou Nene Jallow, Sabel Ndure-Barry, Caroline Otieno and Fatou Ceesay Cole successively my private secretaries—on whom I inflicted the tedious task of typing—and retyping—this entire manuscript.

I finished the first draft of this book before I left The Gambia in 2003 to take up my duties in Arusha, Tanzania, as the Chief Prosecutor of the United Nations International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (UNICTR) with some uncertainty as to whether or not to publish it. That uncertainty has obviously now been overcome.

* * *

Alhaji Hassan Bubacar Jallow, C.R.G.

Bansang

Central River Region

The Gambia

September 2012

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my father Sheikh Alhaji Bubacar Zaidi Jallow (RA), my mother Cherno Jahou Jagne (RA), to my spouse Haja Fatou Jaye, to Bubacar Zaidi Jnr, Mohammed (Papa), Habib, Aisha, Maram, Anna, Malick, Yadali; to Haja Neneh Mariama Jallow (RA), Haja Ramou Sarr, Haja Sireng Bandeh, Bapa Suleiman Jallow; to Dr. Ahmad Tijan, Mamsait, Gibbie Bandeh (RA), Junaidu, Muhammed Arabi, Jaja Fatou, Nenegaleh Mariama, Maimuna, Adama, Ngenarr Aminata, Mansaratou, Bintou Wahabin, Dr. Ousman Nyan.

To the memories of Habib Snr. (RA), Ibrima (RA), Alhaji Idrissa (RA). To Alhaji Sir Dawda Kairaba jawara GCMG, GRMG, First President of the Republic of the Gambia.

To Jiwung, Haajiratou, Fatoumatta, Haddy Bah, Khaddy Bandeh, Fatou Njie, Haddy Nyama, Aji Gaye, Adama Barry, Illiasou Jallow, Hawa Bobb, Aasaf, Abdourahman, M.I. and Ramatoulie Secka, Alhaji Mamsait Jagne (Lamin) (RA), Aja Oumie Jeng (RA), Alhaji Mamour Jagne (RA), Alhaji Malick Jagne (RA), Alhaji Mamsait Jagne Kanifing (RA), Mass Ndiaye (RA), Oumie Jallow (RA), Assan Njie (RA), Y.H.M. Jallow (RA), Fatou Saidy, Omar B. Secka (RA) and Ya Aisha Secka (RA) William and Daado Forster, Cherno Ahmad Tijan Jallow (RA).

To Sheikh Idriss Iraqi (RA), Sheikh Annas Iraqi (RA), Sheikh Alhaji Baba Jallow (RA), Sheikh Muttalib (Pikine), Alhaji Muhammed Lamin Bah (RA), Alhaji Abdoulie Jobe (RA), Alhaji Aalimou Jallow, Towndeh (RA), Yayeh Adama (RA), Yaye Jainabou (RA), Yaye Maimuna (RA), Alhaji Ousman Jallow (Yembereng) (RA), Alhaji Momodou Jallow (Larewel) (RA), Alhaji Muhammad Jallow Zawiyya, Sheikh Alhaji Abdul Qadir Jallow Jomfo, Alhaji Mahfouz Jallow (Zawiyya), Alhaji Bubabacar Jallow (RA) Madina Laafou, Alhaji Algassim Jallow (RA) Gudomp, Alhaji Mohammed Jallow (Jawo) (RA), Mansuang, Alhaji Ismaila Jallow (RA) Marsaasum, Alhaji Mustapha Jallow (RA), Alhaji Maazou Jallow (RA), Alhaji Mohammed Alfa Jallow (Wellingara), Bapa Abdoulie Jallow (RA), Alhaji Alieu Nyan (Kanel), Alhaji Alieu Thiam (Wourro Sogi), Alhaji Abdoulie Aach (Fouta Toro), Alhaji Adama Jah (Fouta Toro), Alhaji Chimere Diaw, Sheikh Ahmed Tall, Sheikh Mohammad Diouf, Bachirr Ndire, Haja Fatou Danielle Diagne, Cherno Sellou Bah (Chewel), Alhaji A.M. Drammeh (RA), Alhaji Baba Yandeh Jobe (RA), Yaa Masait Ceesay (RA), K.M.A. Jallow, Alhaji Sir Alieu Souleiman Jack (RA), M.C. Jallow (RA), Alhaji I.B.A. Kelepha Samba (RA), Cherno Abdourahman Jallow Ahii (RA), Cherno Burakeh Jallow (RA), Cherno Ousman Juntu Jallow (RA), Alhaji Malang Manneh (Bissau), Alhaji Sellu Jallow (Brufut), Sheriff Kebba Hydara, Alhaji Momodou Alpha Jallow (Sareh Sandi), Haja Fatou Touray, Aji Maram Jagne (RA).

To the Shehu of Zawiyya Fouta Jallon, the Shehu of Buruji, Fouta Jallon, Alhaji Soriba Jabbi Gassama (RA), Alhaji Salieu Ndow (RA), Mam Abdou Nyang (RA), Bai Abi Phall (RA), Alhaji Ebrima Jallow (RA), Alhaji Haruna Jah (RA), Dodou Fall (RA), Bubacar Bah (RA), Cherno Algassim Jallow (RA), Alhaji Yaya Jallow Misira (RA), Alhaji Mamodou Jarreh Jallow, Alhaji Boubacar Jallow, Alhaji Hasmiu Bah, Njagga Njie, Alhaji Yorro Bah (RA), Cherno Juldeh Jallow (RA). Thierno Hammadi Bah (Dakar), Alhaji Saikou Doucia Jallow (RA), Bapa Saikou Jallow, Tamsir Jagne (RA).

To the memories of Alhaji Bakary Darbo (RA), Alhaji Kangbourama Darbo (RA), Alhaji Karamo Tambajang (RA), Alhaji Mama Tambajang (RA), Alhaji Jalamang Ceesay (RA), Alhaji Mankamang Badjie (RA), Alhaji Bo Korra (RA), Alhaji Kafara Sanneh (RA), Alhaji Batch Kah (RA), Foday Madu Darbo (RA), Alhaji Kebba Jimbara (RA), Alhaji Momodou Saine (RA), Alhaji Tafsir Bubacar Saine (RA), Alhaji Kissima Singhateh (RA), Alhaji Ayouba Jobarteh (RA), Alhaji Famara Jobarteh (RA), Alhaji Bubacar Jobarteh (RA), Alhaji Numukunda Darboe (RA), Alhaji Bakary Suso (RA), Alhaji Kawsu Jawara (RA), Alhaji Bubacar Suso (RA), Alhaji Serign Modou Jobe (RA), Alhaji Sedat Jobe (RA), Alhaji Arfang Tombong Tambajang (RA), Alhaji Batch Kah (RA), Alhaji Kekuta Tambadou (RA), Alhaji Njagga Ceesay (RA), Alhaji Samba Njie (RA), Alhaji Nuru Touray (RA), Seyfo Koba Leigh (RA), Alhaji Mansajang Banja (RA), Filli Naaso (RA), Jamalal Camara (RA), Alhaji Kebba Jawara (RA), Momodou Jallow (Compagnie) (RA), Adama Jallow (RA), Alfa Omar Bah (Chewel) (RA), Alhaji Filli Nasso (RA), Farba Ganness (RA), M.I. Jallow (RA), Ginka Darboe (RA), Dembo Dampha (RA), Cherno Salieu Sarjo Jallow, Cherno Madina Jallow (RA), Ousman Timineh (RA), Yaa Rakki Bah (RA), Alhaji Saikou Sey (RA), Algassim Jallow (RA), Muhammed Jong Kunda Jobarteh (RA), Alhaji Kebba Jimbara (RA), Alhaji Hydara (RA), Alhaji Sedat Jobe (RA), Alhaji Musa Camara (RA), Sheikh Qadi Omar Jaiteh (RA), Sheikh Qadi Eliman Bah (RA), Alhaji Kebba Kora, Alhaji Saibeh Darboe, Alhaji Alieu Fugga, Alkalo Burko, Alhaji Lamin Bandeh (RA), Alhaji Alieu ‘Clerk’ Jallow, Dadeh Touray (RA), Serign Modou Jagne (Sinchu Sainy); Cherno Touray (Sareh Mudu), Aja Yamundow Jagne (RA), Mamour Jagne, Alhaji Etu Ndow, Alhaji Abdoulie Jallow (Manjai), Alhaji Tubanyo Ceesay (RA), Alhaji Kama Badjie (RA), Alhaji Algassim Jallow (Nemakunku), Alhaji Ousman Jallow (Bakau), Cherno Ousman Jallow (Bakau), Alhaji Bakary Jammeh (RA), Alhaji Alieu Secka (RA), Sheriff Hydara, Danguiray, Kawu Samba, Cherno Wurrie Jallow, Sareh Jiddeh. Alhaji Salli Bah, Cherno Suleiman Jallow and Cherno Lamarana of Kaolack, Alhaji Dawda Jallow (Kungel), Cherno Muhammed Camara (Kungel), Cherno Yorro Jallow (Paris), Cherno Ebrima Hydara (Paris), Cherno Ebrima Jallow (Lelumaa), Alhaji Alieu Secka, Alhaji Dawda Jallow (RA), Alhaji Dawda Jobe (RA), Alhaji Babu Ngum, Alhaji Madiba Janneh, Aji Adam Secka, Alhaji Luntang Jaiteh, Cherno Ousman Jallow, Cherno Babucar Jallow, Alhaji Cherno Korka Bah, Sellou Jallow, Badou Fye, Ardy Sarge, Serign Jobe, Baboucar Sagnia, Wil Colon; Pa Cham, Fisco Conateh, Babou Jobe, Alhaji Kalifa Sano (RA), James Parkinson, Momodou Benteh Jallow, Alhaji Haadi Jallow, Fawzi Hassan Farage (RA), Njenngundi Saidy, Dr. Florence Mahoney, Charles Yusupha Jaw (RA), Jama Jeng (RA), Yorro Nyang; Cherno Nyimana, Cherno Haaruna, Alhaji Abdoulie Jawara, Cherno Amadou Baldeh, Sareh Debbo; Sainey Samateh (RA), Abou Wadda, Ainow Sanneh (RA), Alhaji Babou Samba (RA), Alhaji Samba Jeng, Dr. Wally Ndow, Alhaji Suleiman Fye, Sellou Jallow (RA), Sorrie Krubally (RA), Suleiman Nyang, Alhaji Dodou Fye, Sorrie Camara, Pa Modou Saine, Alhaji Alpha Barry (Ngabou, Guinea Bissau), Alhaji Ousman Jallow Tilme (Ziguinchor), Alhaji Lalo Samateh (RA), Fanta Koi Tambadou (RA), Aji Fatou Jagne (RA) Chaalen, Alhaji Abdoulie Drammeh (RA) ; Filinding Jobarteh (RA), Ndeye Nyang (RA), Aida M.E. Jallow.

Prof. Kanwanyi, Prof. Fimbo, Prof. Nabudere; Prof. Nowrojee, Prof. Shivji, Prof. Osita Eze, Prof. Brian Slattery, Prof Walter Rodney, Bishop Michael Cleary, Kara Abdoulie Janneh, Ebou Jobe, Ousainou Jobe, Dawda Ndure, Masaneh Gassama, Ebrima Riva Bah, Tamba Fofana (RA), Ousman Saine (RA), Momodou Boy Janko (RA). Isatou Ganess (RA).

To the memories of Simon Bakurin, Essa Barry, Baboucar Joof, Babucar Saine, Joseph Jarsey, to Kawunding Tambadou, Mankamang Badjie, Jalimusa Badjie, Samfa Baldeh, family of late Khalil Narr, Alhaji Musa Manneh (Madiana), Alhaji Musa Njie (RA), Lang Mai Bandeh, Aida Jagne (RA), Kodu Jagne, Yamundow Jagne, Mbanna Gaye, Alhaji Salieu Gaye, Alhaji Babou Saho, Alhaji Kaba Tambajang (RA), Cherno Ebrima Sorrie Jallow, Cherno Dardai, Dr. Lamin Ceesay, Alhaji Bubacar Jallow (Yembereng), Cherno Bubacar Jallow (Larewel), Cherno Alh. Suleiman Barry (RA), Cherno Ahmed Tijan Jallow (Bakoteh), Alhaji Momodou Alieu Jallow (Tamba), Alhaji Alieu Kureh Jallow (Conakry), Alhaji Maguette Gaye (RA), Alhaji Abdoulie Darboe (RA), Alhaji Saja Fatty (RA), Alh. Musa Manneh (RA), Jarga Hamadi (RA), Dr. Bai Biran Jagne, Dr. Omar Jagne, Neneh Isatou Secka, Muhammed Jah, Kumba Secka, Ouman Kebbeh, Adam Secka, Habib Bah, Amie Secka, Alhaji Ceesay, Jorr Njie, Ousman Mbye, Sengan Ndow, Alieu Ndow, Alhaji Bubacar Marong, Tijan Mboob, Haja Mansata Manneh (RA), Hafsatou Jallow (RA), Momodou Suso, Habib Diab, Sheriff Jallow, Lamin Bah, Pa Sallah, Fatou Bah, Fullo Ceesay (RA), Munka (RA), Dr. Peter Ndow, Dr. and Mrs. Palmer, Dr. Lenrie Peters, Aunty Louise Njie, Alhaji Muhammed Jang Jallow (RA), Alhaji Samba Sey (RA), Alhaji Samba Sowe (RA), Dr. Tumani Corrah, Dr. Abdoulie Jack, A.S.B. Saho, S.K. Obrien-Coker, S.H.A. George, S.J.B. Mahoney, Bai Modi Joof, M.H. Harding, I.S.B. Mboob, W.G. Grante, Martin Mendy, Pap Cheyassin Secka (RA) Alhaji Babou Touray (RA), Pa Harley Ceesay, Alhaji Mass Jarra (RA), Biran Gaye (RA), Abdoulie Mboge (RA), Alhaji Mamadi Kanteh (RA), Judith Sarr. To Alaa Indeh, Yaa Tikkeh, Naa Buchineh, Burang Manneh the Town Crier, Kaifa Jawara, Momodou Camara.

To all friends and relatives (named and unnamed), the talibas of my late father and Sheikh, the Presidents and members of all Dairas affiliated to Bansang, the descendants of Sait Jahou Jagne (RA), Maba Jahou Bah (RA) and of Biran Ceesay, (RA) to the people of Bansang and Bakau and the entire people of The Gambia.

CHAPTER ONE

JULY 1994—COUP D’ETAT

________________

Friday July 22nd, 1994. It started off as a perfectly normal day to me and to most people in The Gambia. There were no portents of the political and social turbulence which was that day to be unleashed on and continue to dominate our national life for years to come.

The previous evening, Thursday, I had at the request of Vice President and Minister of Defence Saihou Sabally, as the most senior Cabinet minister present, together with the Speaker, the Chief Justice and other Cabinet colleagues and dignitaries been at Banjul International Airport, Yundum to welcome back the President Alhaji Sir Dawda Kairaba Jawara from a six weeks absence abroad. He had spent the better part of it in the United Kingdom attending, among other events, the Royal Agricultural show as a special guest of the organisers.

Ordinarily the Vice President and Minister of Defence Saihou Sabally would have been at the airport to receive the President. But Saihou Sabally had excused himself that day from attending the airport ceremony. He told me that he had to attend the funeral of a family member at Farafenni, some 180 kilometres from Banjul. And that I should attend to the protocol of receiving Sir Dawda at the airport. In any case he was back in Banjul and present in his office in the morning of the fateful day of July 22nd, 1994.

As was customary I arrived some thirty minutes before the aircraft was scheduled to land. I joined those of my colleagues who were already there in waiting at the apron. All appeared normal and business as usual at the airport. There was the usual guard of honour at the airport. Omar Sey, the Minister of External Affairs and I proceeded to the foot of the aircraft to receive Sir Dawda. The Gambia National Army soldiers looking smart and disciplined and executing their parade with the usual precision; the usual welcoming line of dignitaries, with each of whom the President shook hands; the brief airport interview. I saw the President into his limousine and waved him off goodbye. Little did I know that it was indeed a goodbye. Several years were to elapse before I set eyes on him again.

22nd July was as usual an early day for me at the Chambers. I had washed, dressed and left for the office early. I had as usual seen off to school my two young sons Bubacar aged nine, Muhammed aged six, my nieces Anna Secka and Maram who were dropped off by my driver Sheikh Omar. I left at home our four year old boy Habib together with his mother Haja Fatou Jaye who was expecting our fourth child within the next four weeks. I was not to see some of them again for the next seven days. My principal task that morning at the office was to finalise the draft terms of reference for a Commission of Inquiry which was being established to investigate all the circumstances relating to the issue of cheques by several importers, which were subsequently dishonoured, amounting to millions of dalasis in respect of customs duties. Some of these cheques had been replaced by others which again had been subsequently dishonoured. Yet no action had been taken on them by the Customs & Excise authority to prosecute the persons or recover the revenue! Cabinet had decided that in addition to recovering the monies it was necessary to get into the bottom of the saga and determine how and why it happened.

By 9.30 a.m. I was getting signals of something untoward happening. One of my friends, Buba Barry, the Director of Lands, passed by the office to inform me that he had heard of disturbances at the army barracks in Yundum some twenty miles from the capital, Banjul. I told him it was probably another instance of protests by soldiers about late payment of allowances. We had already had I recalled, two such incidents involving returnee soldiers from ECOMOG duties in Sierra Leone. Some of my staff followed with similar concerns. When I raised the possibility of it being another ‘allowance’ protest, they took the view that this time it seemed more serious as their information was that the soldiers were marching towards Banjul and shouting hostile slogans against the Government. Clearly they felt this seemed to be no ordinary protest!

I then rang Mr. Kebba Ceesay, the Director of the National Security Service (NSS) to inquire about the situation. He assured me quite confidently that it was under control and that there was nothing to worry about. Only a protest by a handful of soldiers, he said. With that assurance I now tried to calm down my staff, some of whom had started to panic, and to request them to get back to their offices and continue with their work.

When by 10.30 a.m. the Minister of Information and Tourism, Alkali James Gaye, telephoned to inquire what was happening I sought to reassure him that the situation was under control, on the basis of my discussions with the head of the security service.

Shortly thereafter, Alhaji Alieu E.W.F. Badjie (Kama), the Minister of Education, called me and disclosed that there were reports of a coup d’état under way and that the Ministry of the Interior had received a tip off on the plot some two to three weeks earlier but had failed to investigate and take action.

I then telephoned the Vice President and Minister of Defence, Saihou Sabally, as I had learnt of his return from Farafenni the previous night. When I called, his secretary informed me that he was busy with the U.S. Ambassador Andrew Winter and the Captain of the U.S. La Moore County of the U.S. Navy which was then visiting Banjul with a contingent of U.S. Marines. They were, I later learnt, scheduled to hold military exercises that day with The Gambia National Army. I asked, not wishing to disturb them, and believing there was no emergency, that the Vice President calls me as soon as he had finished with his visitors.

Barely twenty minutes later Alhaji Kama Badjie sounding quite agitated telephoned me again to report that the President together with his entire family and the Vice President had left the State House for the U.S. La Moore County. I told him I had heard no such news. He was certain now that an attempt to overthrow the Government was underway. I then telephoned the Vice President’s Office. There was no reply. I telephoned the President. There was no reply. They had both apparently departed. Without making contact with Cabinet colleagues.

I then spoke on the phone to my family at Bansang, 315 kilometres away from Banjul, the Capital, and then to my wife who was on maternity leave at home in Bakau, briefing them on the situation.

Minutes later Pa Sallah Jagne, the Inspector General of Police (IGP) telephoned me to advise that all ministers in Banjul were to report to The Gambia Navy Headquarters near the Ferry terminal in Banjul for their safety. When I asked him what was going on he too reported that it was a small mutiny which he was sure would be put down in less than two hours. The situation appeared now to me to be more grave than the security people were aware of or were willing to let us know.

I packed my briefcase, handed over my office keys to Judith Sarr, my secretary, with the explanation that I was going to the State House and would be back shortly. I did not wish to cause further panic. I left in my official vehicle with my chauffeur Saihou Omar, little realising that I was not to return again to those premises as Attorney General and Minister of Justice.

I went by the State House. It was deserted. Except for a few soldiers who appeared not to know what to do. The President and the Vice President had indeed left. I continued on to The Gambia Navy Headquarters on Wellington Street, Banjul where I arrived just after 11 a.m. I was joined there by Alkali James Gaye, the Minister of Information and Tourism, shortly afterwards. Our fates and fortunes would be tied together for the next several months. The officer in charge of the Naval Headquarters welcomed us courteously into his office. He appeared to be busy trying to contact the Inspector General of Police and other military units. There appeared to be very few Cabinet Ministers in Banjul at the time—Alkali, Alhaji Kama, myself and I learnt later Bakary Darbo. Omar Sey had apparently left for the airport to receive a Nigerian government delegation that was due in Banjul that day.

It was at the Naval Headquarters that Alkali and I learnt that the President and his party were on board the USS La Moure County berthed at the jetty a couple of hundred meters away. But Alkali and I were not allowed to leave the premises of the Naval Headquarters.

A U.S. Air Force Major, the Defence Attaché at the U.S. Embassy in Dakar accredited to The Gambia who was presumably in Banjul in connection with the military exercise with the La Moore County joined us there and together we followed the events as they unfolded. The Major was one of the few people who appeared to be free to move around the city in his vehicle and several times he left the Marine Headquarters to go into the city and returned to join us there. He explained that he was concerned with and monitoring the welfare of U.S. citizens in The Gambia.

When it became clear that the soldiers marching from Yundum, now apparently joined by some of their colleagues from the military Camp at Bakau, had progressed beyond the Bund Road Junction some two kilometres from Banjul, the last point at which, according to the Defence Attaché, they could have been stopped, the officer in charge of the naval HQ advised that for our own safety Alkali James Gaye and I had to be removed from the shore base to the safety of one of the Gambia navy gunboats moored offshore.

For a while we entertained hopes of a possible intervention by the U.S. Marines on board the U.S. ship docked at Banjul Port to put an end to the mutiny. They however required authorization from Washington D.C. to do so. As we know, such authorisation never came.

I wanted to contact Sir Dawda urgently on board the USS La Moore County to advise him to return. Both James and I thought that would help put an end to whatever was going on. I asked the Major how to contact the vessel. He was good enough to provide me with the radio frequency of the USS La Moore County for that day. He wrote it on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I asked for permission to use the radio on the MV Bolong Kanta to call Sir Dawda. The Gambia naval personnel rejected my request. A burly and hostile sailor made it a point of standing between me and the radio set! The fact that the Attorney General of the day was being prevented by members of the armed forces to make contact with the President and their Commander in Chief at a time of national crisis confirmed our worst fears that something was afoot!

Thus it was that the MV Bolong Kanta, The Gambia Navy’s newest vessel donated by the U.S. Navy earlier in the year, shipped James and I to the M.V. Gunjur, just about a hundred and fifty meters offshore. From there we could now see the USS La Moore County in which the President and his family, the Vice President and later we learnt the Minister of Finance and Economic Affairs Bakary Dabo had sought refuge.

By 1 p.m., and from the deck of the M.V. Gunjur, we could now see also several pick-up loads of fully armed soldiers driving into and out of The Gambia Naval Headquarters. There was no sign of hostility between the visitors and their hosts. There appeared to be much camaraderie between them.

Staying on board the M.V. Gunjur seemed to be like being in prison. It was an old boat. Its machinery for weighing up anchor had, we were told, broken down. It therefore took, according to the seamen on board, an hour to manually lift the anchor. It had no radio communication system. Nobody had a transistor radio set on board. When I tried my mobile telephone I discovered the system was no longer working. Earlier in the day so many people had been on their telephones frantically trying to communicate that the whole telephone system had apparently jammed. M.V. Gunjur I felt was not the place to be in at that particular moment.

As the day progressed, Alkali James and I insisted on being taken back to shore at the Navel Headquarters rather than be kept on board the MV Gunjur, helpless, incommunicado and oblivious to what was going on.

The Bolong Kanta ferried us back to the shore at The Gambia Naval headquarters. From there we watched as the USS La Moore County passed us by heading for the mouth of the River Gambia and for the Atlantic Ocean with Sir Dawda Jawara the President and his party on board.

Despite all the movement, until then it was not absolutely clear what was happening, although we had evidence of an abnormal situation. One astute and forthright junior Gambia Naval officer however later said to us: Sirs, let nobody fool you. This is a coup d’état. And all the top soldiers know about it and are part of it. They are all just pretending otherwise. He turned out to be quite right.

James and I spent the rest of the day alternating between the MV Bolong Kanta moored to the wharf and sitting on the wharf. There had been no food throughout the day, neither for ourselves nor for the soldiers who it was now clear to us were our captors and we, their prisoners. We were not allowed to leave the wharf or the boat. By nightfall we were brought some bread and sardines. We were to remain in captivity at various locations for the next fifty-five days.

The situation became definitely clear by nightfall. A senior officer of The Gambia National Army and another soldier strolled over to where we were on the wharf. The soldiers are now at the State House and the Council meeting there is discussing the two of you, especially you pointing at me as it is felt you can be helpful with advice in view of your training and experience. I stated to him simply that as a lawyer and especially as the Attorney General of the day, I was committed to upholding and defending the Constitution and not otherwise. No further discussions took place and the soldiers left. The senior officer was to return later that night but alone and this time armed, unlike the first time. He made the strange remark that it was time for each one to be ready for any eventuality. I took that as an explanation for his being armed and as a sign of possible tension within the soldiers’ ranks. It turned out to be true for he was shortly thereafter arrested and detained. The President and the Vice President, it seemed, had left the country on board the USS La Moore County. Alkali and I were prisoners. The rest of the Cabinet was scattered and out of contact. The soldiers were in occupation of the State House and in control of the city. There had, it appeared, been no public resistance to the events of the day, whether due to confusion, fear or support I could not tell. As far as we were aware, there had been no fighting.

DETENTION

Saturday, 23rd July 1994. Alkali James Gaye and I spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night that Friday 22nd July alternating between the bunks of the M.V. Bolong Kanta and the jetty to which it was moored at The Gambia Navy Headquarters on the shore along Wellington Street, Banjul.

It was a quiet night. The city itself was silent. We had very little sleep that night. And little food too since Friday morning, only a couple of sardines with some bread. The soldiers, despite being our captors, were quite courteous and helpful.

On Saturday the 23rd July at about 9 a.m. an army sergeant, accompanied by the Naval Commander and three other soldiers armed with what appeared to be A.K. 47 rifles, visited us at the wharf. The sergeant informed us that he had been ordered to collect Alkali and I and take us to the State House and that we should accompany him accordingly. He assured us of our safety and that we would come to no harm. We were subsequently to receive such assurances continuously from the soldiers and other security personnel. No bloodshed became a familiar slogan from the soldiers. It was very comforting to hear this at every turn.

Alkali and I boarded a four wheel drive vehicle with the two of us placed in the middle seat flanked on either side by an armed soldier, the sergeant sitting up front beside the driver and with two other soldiers in the rear. The vehicle left the Naval Headquarters and headed, not for the State House in Banjul as we expected, but for the Kombos, across the bridge from the Island of Banjul. The streets of Banjul through which we passed appeared deserted and lonely, even at such a time of day. The sergeant informed us that we were going first to collect some of our other ministerial colleagues. They asked James and I where Omar Jallow (O.J.) and Mathew Yahya Baldeh and the other ministers residences are situated. We replied that we did not know. We wanted to protect our colleagues. To our great surprise the soldiers left it at that. They did not press it. Although I was certain they could not believe what we had said!

The vehicle passed along the old Cape Road, from where I could see my house in the distance. I wondered what was the fate of my spouse Haja Fatou Jaye and the children Bubacar, Muhammad, Habib, Maram and Anna Secka. We drove into Bakau and at a particular junction when the vehicle had to stop to traffic, I leaned forward to catch the eye of a particular student taliba of my father who I was certain would be at that spot at that time. He was indeed there, much to my relief! Our eyes met and he got the message I was trying to convey: I was in the country and in the hands of the soldiers. Much later I learnt that as soon as the vehicle had passed the young man ran to our family house in Bakau and relayed the news of my whereabouts and circumstances personally to my family. It turned out that they had all assumed that I had left the country together with Sir Dawda Jawara on board the USS La Moore County.

After driving into and round the Fajara area and failing to trace the whereabouts of the other ministers—Alkali and I were still reluctant to provide any information in this respect—we were driven back to Banjul some seven kilometres away, expecting now to be taken to the State House where we understood the leaders of the coup—for it was now clear that indeed was the case—were meeting.

Instead of proceeding to the State House, however, the vehicle, on the instructions of the sergeant, turned into the compound of The Gambia National Army Headquarters on the Marina Parade, barely a hundred meters away from the Ministry of Justice and on the same road leading directly to one of the rear gates of the State House.

We alighted. Alkali James and I were ordered into the ground floor of the building which appeared to be the open general office. The door was closed. The key turned. We were locked inside. It was now about midday, Saturday the 23rd July 1994.

The soldiers continued to treat us very well in captivity, bringing us mattresses and other articles for our comfort on that first day and subsequently also changes of clothes, our personal radios, food from our homes and even permitting visits by some family members. Haja Fatou Jaye was expecting a baby any time now and I had accordingly suggested that she should stay away. But friends and family came. My younger sister Bintou came. She was very upset. I tried to calm her down.

And Sir Dawda and entourage? It was only several days later whilst in detention that we learnt from the newspapers that the Captain of the USS La Moore County had insisted on dropping off Sir Dawda and his companions in Dakar, Senegal and continuing on his journey.

Unknown to Alkali and I also until later, Sir Dawda had from his sanctuary in the USS La Moore County tried to reason with the military who had staged the coup and to encourage them to return to their barracks, with assurances that their grievances would be dealt with in friendly Gambian manner. The young Lt. Edward Singhateh reported that these are no grievances; we are just out to rid the country of corrupt elements that were bent on ruining it. This was no ordinary soldiers’ demonstration or mutiny over petty salary or allowance or living conditions or other personal grievances. The soldiers, Singhateh said, were out to rid the country of his allegedly corrupt regime. They respected Sir Dawda and were willing to have him back as a retired elder Statesman and only as that.

The Daily Observer Newspaper in its issue of September 22nd 1994 carried the full text of the conversation between the elder Statesman and the young soldier under the headline In Conversation with Lt. Singhateh from U.S. Ship Jawara Sought Compromise.

The young articulate officer was very polite but very firm: they respected Sir Dawda; he was welcome back but definitely not as President of the Republic; they felt that there was too much corruption in his administration and that in allegedly failing to take action he had condoned it; they would, he insisted, extract that canker worm from the body politic of The Gambia. Sir Dawda too was quite clear: whatever grievances they had could be addressed without disrupting the constitutional framework. The coup would, predicted the elder Statesman, impair The Gambia’s well-earned reputation and respect for good governance and create a serious setback for the country’s development prospects.

Later in the afternoon of Saturday the 23rd of July Alkali James and I had an unexpected guest in our prison: the soldiers brought in to our cell Kebba Ceesay, the Director General of the National Security Service. Barely twenty-four hours earlier he had in response to my queries assured me that what had commenced apparently at Yundum barracks early on Friday the 22nd was only a minor hiccup that would soon be brought under control!

But despite the circumstances we still retained some humour in our cell. Kebba regaled Alkali and I with stories about a village allegedly on the other side of the grave by the name of ALPETEW! He was certain we were all headed to that destination, given his knowledge and fear of some of the leaders of the new government! He told us about what had happened at the airport on Thursday 21st July—the disarming of some of the officers who, according to him, apparently had a coup in mind. It was the first time I learnt about events which took place at the airport just before I arrived there to receive H.E. the President. No one briefed me on these developments when I arrived at the airport.

Three of us now shared the same cell on the ground floor of The Gambia National Army Headquarters.

Until now I had no idea of the identity of the leaders of the coup. Kebba Ceesay helped fill this gap for me. He clearly knew who was in charge. He mentioned Lieutenants Singhateh and Sanna Sabally; Captain Yahya Jammeh and Captain Sadibou Hydara. He seemed to be particularly worried about Lieutenant Sanna Sabally, describing him as aggressive and dangerous. Kebba Ceesay knew about all of them all right. He was a good source of information for me on the leadership of the new government.

Kebba Ceesay did not stay long with us. He himself told us he expected to be transferred to some more strict detention facility at any time. In the morning of 27th July the soldiers indeed came for him. He was already very ill with malaria. Subsequently we learnt he had been transferred to the solitary wing of the high security Mile 2 Central Prison, a kilometre outside the city of Banjul. He was to remain there for a long time.

The names he mentioned did not mean anything to me. I did not know any of these officers. But Alkali James Gaye knew some of them. Lieutenant Yahya Jammeh, according to Alkali, hailed from his constituency in the Fonis. The two appeared to be well acquainted. But I was to see them in the flesh soon, these men who had so smoothly and apparently efficiently taken over the reins of government in an unconstitutional manner.

We had our first glimpse of the new authorities in the morning of Wednesday July 27th. There was no announcement. We first noticed a sudden rushing around of soldiers, reaching for their caps, hats, shoes, guns, etc. and smartening up. A military convoy drove into the compound. Some soldiers alighted, guns at the ready. We could see them through the windows on the ground floor. The door to our prison was unlocked and flung open. We were asked to stand up, Alkali James and I. In strode an army officer: young, slender and wearing the customary dark glasses. He walked around James and I, as if inspecting us, without a word. Finally he turned to me and asked whether I was Hassan Jallow. I answered in the affirmative. But I did not know him although from Kebba Ceesay’s descriptions I suspected his identity. I asked him if he was Sana Sabally. He appeared taken aback, offended, I thought, by my ignorance of his identity. He nodded. He seemed a quiet man. He assured us of our safety, again saying no bloodshed. As he turned to leave us I told him that I was anxious to know about the condition of my spouse, Haja Fatou Jaye, as she was expected to deliver any time now. Sana Sabally shouted back from the corridor—he was already on his way out—that he too had not seen his spouse since Friday July 22nd!

I could not tell much about him from this brief encounter but one thing stood out clearly: the soldiers were terrified of him. We the former ministers—and indeed many others, civilians and military—were subsequently to suffer severely at the hands of Lt. Sana Sabally.

By now Alkali James Gaye and I had access to the radio and newspapers. We learnt that day that the new government had established an Armed Forces Provisional Ruling Council comprising Lieutenant Yahya Jammeh as Chairman, assisted by four other young army officers as members—Lt. Singhateh, Lt. Sabally, Captain Sadibou Hydara, Lt. Kanteh as well as the Attorney General who was as yet not appointed. A new 15 man Cabinet was appointed comprising five military and ten civilians.

I had since the 22nd of July been receiving signals from various soldiers about a possible role for me in the Cabinet, as Attorney General and Minister of Justice. The first time had been in the evening of July 22nd at the Naval Headquarters when the two soldiers called on us. During my detention both at Army Headquarters and at home various soldiers had at various times urged me to accept an offer to serve as such. I had of course not been offered any such position. But clearly it was being talked about within the military. Other than on the first occasion that the matter had been raised with me I did not respond to any such suggestions.

It would have been difficult for me to accept, for reasons of principle. Having served for a decade as Attorney General and Minister of Justice under the constitutional Jawara government I believed it would have been politically and professionally unethical for me, sworn to uphold the law and the Constitution, to now turn around to serve an administration that had just overturned that Constitution. It may well be that the new authorities sensed my reluctance. The long delay in the appointment of my replacement following the military takeover gave credence to the reports. No substantive Attorney General was appointed until the end of the first week of August 1994. Fafa E. Mbai was re-appointed to the position.

Several years later—in 1998—there were no constraints of principle when I was invited to and accepted to serve in the judiciary, as opposed to the executive (government) arm of the State, as a justice of the newly established Supreme Court, the final court of The Gambia. By then a new Constitution had been approved at a referendum and elections held which returned Yahya Jammeh as the elected President of The Gambia. The constitutional order had been restored earlier in 1996.

However on 23rd July 2002, in response to a letter from the Ministry of Justice purporting, in contravention of the constitutional provisions on security of tenure of judges, to terminate my appointment—I resigned from the office in a letter addressed to the Chief Justice. I remain greatly indebted to the Gambia Bar Association, my colleagues on the Bench and many others within and outside The Gambia during that difficult period. The first communication from the Ministry of Justice on this matter had been to the then Chief Justice Muhammad Arif. As a man of integrity and courage he had returned the original of that letter back to the Ministry of Justice with the observation that there was no indication of compliance with the provisions of Section 141 of the Constitution relating to the special procedure for removal of judges. This was then followed by a letter directly to me from the Ministry. For me, it was already a clear indication that the administration no longer wanted me on the bench.

My tenure on the Supreme Court gave me the opportunity as a member of the five judges’ panel over which I on some occasions presided to deal with issues of major public importance. Amongst them the effective date of entry of the current Constitution, the exercise of executive powers in relation to appointment and removal of local government officials and members of the Independent Electoral Commission, the locus standi of citizens to challenge administrative actions, retroactive legislation and vested rights, etc. I am happy that I was able as part of a team of senior and experienced judges such as Lartey (C.J.), Arif (C.J.) Wali (J.S.C), Amua-Sekyi (J.S.C), and Ogbuegbu (J.S.C) to have contributed in this way to the development of the Gambia’s legal system.

During the week of 27th July, Alkali James and I were joined by our colleague Mathew Yaya Baldeh, ex-Minister of Works and Communications, who had voluntarily given himself up to the soldiers after several days at large.

On Thursday the 28th of July, after five days in detention, we received news of the surrender of the other ministers—Omar Sey, Omar Jallow (OJ), Sarjo Touray, AEWF Kama Badjie, and Landing Jallow Sonko. They were housed separately from us—at the headquarters of the NSS, about a hundred meters from our own detention centre. Bakary Darbo and Saihou S. Sabally had accompanied Sir Dawda on board the USS La Moore County and eventually landed with him in Dakar, Senegal. Darbo was to return in early August to resume his post as Finance Minister, but this time with the military government.

It was, however, to be a short-lived love affair. Darbo was to be dismissed by the first week of October 1994 amid allegations of sabotage and corruption.

As for the rest of the old Cabinet, I learnt through diplomatic sources by mid-August when we had now been transferred to house arrest that L.K. Jabang, the Minister of the Interior and Mbemba Jatta, the Minister of Trade, Industry and Employment had fled across the border to southern Senegal and eventually found their way to Dakar the capital. Both former ministers were to return to Banjul around August 1994.

In the evening of Thursday July 28th 1994, I had a glimpse of some of the other AFPRC military members: Lt. Singhateh and Captain Sadibou Hydara with Lt. Sabally, again, visited the three of us at the Army Headquarters. I was meeting the other two members for the first time. They were all courteous. They were there, they said, to ascertain how we were faring and to assure us of our safety. It was a welcome reassurance. We thanked them for their concerns and consideration. There were no discussions on issues of substance.

Thus far we had not received any threats to our safety except for one evening when a lone soldier entered our room at the Army Headquarters. Holding a rifle which he kept on swinging from side to side in our direction and looking, in my view, quite unsteady apparently from the effects of alcohol, he started accusing us of having neglected the army. He complained that we had not cared about their living conditions and that this was what we would get in return. Much to our relief, however, he repeated the ‘no bloodshed’ slogan and retreated from the room. We were more than happy to see his back for Alkali James Gaye and I feared much that either deliberately or from lack of self control he would open fire upon us. We had by now gotten used to living in the same room with the machine gun standing on a table pointing in our direction. But the behaviour of the lone soldier that evening was something different. It may well not have been intentionally intimidating and perhaps he had failed to understand the apprehension of civilians faced with guns. But in the end the intention was less important than the effect it had on Alkali and I.

There was now much talk in the air about our impending release. Alkali and I had now spent a week in custody. There were suggestions from some of the soldiers that our release was imminent.

On Friday 29th July at 5 p.m. Alkali, Mathew and myself were escorted from our detention centre to the NSS headquarters where the rest of our Cabinet colleagues were being held. It was the first time we were meeting them since July 22nd. We understood we were to be addressed by the Chairman and members of the AFPRC prior to being released. The re-union was, however, quite short-lived. Instructions emanating from the State House led to Alkali and I—leaving Mathew behind—being escorted back to the Army Headquarters where we had been originally held. No explanation was provided by the soldiers. Shortly after our return to the Army Headquarters, a military convoy arrived. All indications pointed to the presence of the Chairman and the other members of the AFPRC.

The Chairman of the AFPRC, Lt. Yahya Jammeh was accompanied by Hydara and Singhateh. The Chairman was of dark complexion and of medium build. He wore dark glasses too. I had not met him before. He spoke to us. He said the Council had planned to release us that day but this had to be postponed in order to enable all former ministers hand over files in their custody to their successors. That could now be done only on Monday the 1st of August. The Chairman assured us of our safety but proceeded to disclose that each of us would have to account for our stewardship of public office, for our assets. His government, he said, was based on accountability and transparency and would take firm measures to combat corruption. Alkali and I thanked him for our part, assuring him that we had been treated well by his men and that we were ready to co-operate with this enquiry. He then left.

On Saturday 30th July at about 5:30 p.m., the Acting Inspector General of Police accompanied by the Acting Attorney General and Minister of Justice called on us at the Army Headquarters with an Executive Directive signed by the Chairman AFPRC for me to be released on home detention. I countersigned the directive.

It ordered me to be confined within the immediate precincts of my residence with access to family members at all times, to a physician of my choice, to a master of religion once weekly, to local telephone calls but no access to or communication with any known politician or political associate.

I picked my few belongings and after having taken leave of my friend Alkali James, I was escorted by soldiers back to my house in Cape Point, Bakau. My spouse Haja Fatou Jaye and the children returned from where they had been waiting for me. They were all safe and in good health. I telephoned the family home in Bansang. My father was well. So was everybody else. They were all happy—in Bakau, Bansang and elsewhere—to hear from me and to learn that I was safe and in good health.

Alkali James and my other colleagues were likewise released into home detention two days later on Monday 1st August 1994. I did not have any files to handover as such. Instead on Thursday 4th August, accompanied by my brother, Dr. Ahmed Tijan who had arrived the previous day from New York to visit me, I called at the Attorney General’s Chambers and collected all my personal belongings and papers. Whatever I had for handing over, I passed on to M.A. (Joe) Ceesay, and Fola Allen, the two most senior Law Officers then present. Despite the military escort, which accompanied me to the Chambers and kept an eye on me whilst I was packing, most of the members of staff called on me in my office to express their sympathy, support and solidarity and to wish me well.

Having returned home I braced myself for an extended period of house detention.

Subsequently it seemed there were questions as to why I did not accompany the President to the State House and why I was not available for a supposed briefing at the same venue immediately after receiving him at the Banjul International Airport. This was amidst subsequent reports too of an alleged incident of some sort involving soldiers having taken place at the Airport prior to his arrival.

True I had not accompanied him to State House or briefed him, but it was not as simple as that.

On 21st July 1994, Saihou Sabally requested me to step in for him and receive the President at the airport on arrival as, he told me, he had to go to Farafeni to attend the funeral of a relative. That was how I came to receive Sir Dawda at the foot of the aircraft on that day. It is now established that Saihou Sabally was back in Banjul that night, or early morning and in his office in the morning of July 22nd 1994.

At the airport, I did not witness any incident of any kind nor was any such reported to me by any person, including all those I found at the airport. Everything appeared normal to me when I arrived at the airport some thirty minutes before the plane landed and throughout the reception ceremony. I thus had nothing to report to any one about any such incident.

I learnt only much later—in my case when I was already in detention at the Army Headquarters in Banjul after the 22nd July coup about the reported airport incident.

In the ten years that I have had the honour and privilege to serve as Attorney General and Minister of Justice, I have not participated in or been aware of the practice of any mission briefings which follow immediately the President’s return to The Gambia. When I was requested to receive Sir Dawda at the airport on 21st July 1994, I was advised neither by Saihou Sabally nor by the Office of the President nor by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that there would be such a briefing and that I was required to attend it. When my absence was noticed for the supposed briefing of 21st July, no one contacted me to find out why and to draw my attention to the need for my presence. I would of course have readily attended if so requested or directed.

More significantly, however, is the fact that I had nothing to report to the President or to any such a briefing in any case. The substantive business of government was delegated by the President to Saihou Sabally; he was the only person who could brief the President in that respect given that my involvement had not been anything more than a mere protocol matter of receiving Sir Dawda at the airport. Nor was I in any position to brief the President on any security matter since I was totally unaware of any incident having occurred at the airport. If I was, I would of course have reported it to him forthwith.

Instead, oblivious of any incidents or rumours of a coup, I exposed my family to risks on Friday morning, set off for work as usual and became the first member of the Government to be arrested by the new military regime on 22nd July 1994. I did expose my staff too whom I asked to