The Chain and The Amulet

By David Kujabi

""The Chain and The Amulet" is a captivating blend of fact and fiction,

unfolding in 1970s and 1980s Gambia. This tale revolves around Satou, who,

unbeknownst to her, was promised to a prosperous trader shortly after her

birth.

As Satou blossoms into a young beauty, she excels in school thanks to a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto Publishing
• Release date: Mar 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9789361727269

Book preview

THE CHAIN AND THE AMULET

David Kujabi

Ukiyoto Publishing

All global publishing rights are held by

Ukiyoto Publishing

Published in 2024

Content Copyright © DAVID KUJABI

ISBN

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This work blends fact and fiction. While some elements may be inspired by real-life events, names, characters, businesses, places, locales, and incidents have been created by the author's imagination or utilised fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events may exist but is not indicative of a direct correlation.

.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

www.ukiyoto.com

Dedicated to my cherished father, Paul Henry Kujabi, whose patient guidance in teaching me to read, ignited and nurtured my deep passion for literature.

Contents

The Betrothal

Alhagie Bala Wants an Educated Wife

Enrolling in School

Lang Would Pay Any Price for Love

The Pursuit of Love Brings Trouble

The Challenges of a Polygamous Home

Lang Escapes from Prison

A Coup is Foiled

An Excursion Trip to the Kombos

The Unlikely Couple

The Sojourn in Libya and a Transition to High School

Is it True Love or Infatuation

Matched Minds in Love

The Betrothed is Claimed

The Journey Back Home

A Life Lived in Vain

About the Author

The Betrothal

A

momentous gathering unfolded in Kwinella as Sanneh Kunda's compound yard swarmed with people - men, women, and children. Laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere. Young boys huddled under a mango tree, brewing ataya, while playful children darted around, seeking refuge behind their parents to avoid being caught in their hide-and-seek game.

Amidst the commotion, one little boy, who was part of the chase, stumbled upon the exposed root of the mango tree, a casualty of the previous rainy season's heavy downpours. His fall left him with a cut on his forehead, and as blood trickled from the wound, his cries pierced through the cacophony, drawing the attention of everyone present.

Lang, a burly and quick-tempered man of about twenty-seven, bellowed at the naughty children, threatening to administer a series of floggings if they didn't cease their antics immediately. Familiar with Lang's volatile temper, the children scattered, seeking shelter with their mothers. Even the injured boy, still whimpering, fell silent under Lang's intimidating authority. His mother rushed to his side, cradling him and tending to the bloody gash on his forehead.

Lang was notorious for his fiery disposition, known throughout the village for his physical strength, and no one, not even the village elders, dared challenge him. Thus, an uneasy silence prevailed as he turned his tirade toward the parents, chastising them for their alleged negligence in raising mannered children.

The crowd remained hushed, save for a few inaudible murmurs. Dodou, Lang's friend, attempted to calm him by reassuringly touching his shoulder. However, this gesture only exacerbated Lang's fury, and he violently shrugged off Dodou's touch, sending him sprawling back onto a bench, clutching his aching buttocks. A woman in the crowd couldn't help but chuckle at the spectacle, provoking Lang's menacing glare and clenched fists.

As tension peaked, the village imam and his entourage arrived at the compound. Now recalling the occasion at hand, Lang managed to restrain himself, much to the relief of the assembled crowd and, notably, the woman who had giggled earlier.ss

The imam and his followers entered the compound, where Faburama, the compound's owner and host, warmly welcomed them. In unison, the newcomers greeted the crowd, exchanging pleasantries.

Asalamualaikum.

Walaikumsalam, came the response from the gathering. Faburama beamed with pride as he guided the men to their designated seating area. The occasion was Faburama's invitation to the entire village to celebrate the naming ceremony of his firstborn, the reason for the crowd's assembly in Sanneh Kunda that day.

With the formalities concluded, Faburama instructed Daba, a woman sitting on the veranda, to bring out the baby. Turning to a young boy, Buba, he instructed, Buba, go to the backyard and bring the ram here. Buba eagerly hurried off while Daba, who happened to be Fatou's aunt and Faburama's wife, went inside the house. Shortly after that, Daba returned, cradling the infant in her arms, accompanied by three other women, one of whom was Fatou, elegantly attired and brimming with joy.

Simultaneously, Buba returned, leading a sizable black-and-white ram. Daba sat on a mat on the veranda, holding the baby in her lap, with a basket nearby containing cola nuts, black mint sweets, bread, generous portions of couscous powder, ginger, and locally called "wonjo" juice. A small jar also contained water infused with extracts from the mahogany tree's bark.

Meanwhile, under an orange tree near the compound's fence, two men argued over who would have the honour of slaughtering the ram. Their quarrel stemmed from a desire to claim the prized throat, traditionally reserved for the one who performed the act. Rising from his seat, Lang drew his knife with a glint that caught the sunlight and boomed, I'll do the slaughtering, you fools.

The gleaming knife was enough to quell the dispute, and the men reluctantly stepped aside, assisting Lang in restraining the ram for the impending slaughter. As preparations for the ceremony continued, the imam, with a razor blade in hand, approached the mat where Daba held the baby. After offering a silent prayer, he moistened the infant's hair with water from the jar and gently shaved the hair above the child's forehead. Simultaneously, Lang, following a signal, uttered Bismillah as he carried out the ritual slaughter of the ram.

With the infant's hair shaved and the ram slaughtered, Pa Dahaba, a fair-skinned elder in his sixties, renowned as the village's Nyamalo - the one entrusted with announcing the names of newborns - stepped forward. He cleared his throat, revealing teeth stained by years of chewing cola nuts. He began, I would like to congratulate Faburama and express my gratitude for inviting us here. We know that this is his first child, a momentous occasion indeed. Without further ado, allow me to fulfil my humble duty.

As Pa Dahaba paused dramatically, pretending to have forgotten the name, Faburama's cousins, who knew the expected cue, began showering him with money. Laughter rippled through the crowd as the drama unfolded, and some urged Pa Dahaba to proceed. Satisfied with his collected money, he cleared his throat again and announced, I remember now. The child's name is ... Satou!

At the mention of the name, applause erupted, and some women began to dance. At the same time, Faburama's beautifully dressed aunt, the child's namesake, beamed with pride. The basket contents were distributed to all attendees, followed by prayers for the child's well-being and long life.

Elderly men and women eloquently offered their prayers, with the crowd responding with heartfelt Ameen, Ameen. After the prayers concluded, Daba and the other women returned to the house with the baby while Lang and the other men began preparing the ram for the feast.

Afang, Ba Foday, and Wandifa, the village's drummers, readied themselves to entertain the gathering. Following Afang's instructions, three boys fetched the drums, which had been left in the sun, to tighten the hide for the ideal tone. Ba Foday selected the smallest drum, Kutiry ndingo, which had a sharp sound. Afang took the medium-sized drum, Kutiriba, responsible for the bass tones. Wandifa, the trio's leader, took the Sabaro drum, which was used to harmonise the sounds. He also held a whistle, adding to the musical ambience.

As the women and girls formed a circle, the drummers took their positions. A woman initiated a song, and the others joined in, with the drummers synchronising their beats to the rhythm. Initially, the singing and drumming were slow, with the woman praising Faburama and extolling the greatness of his ancestors as warriors of integrity.

Touched by the words, Faburama entered the circle, dancing and appreciating the woman’s performance. He rewarded her enthusiasm with money, fueling her spirited singing. After a while, the tempo of the singing and drumming increased. A woman entered the circle, initiating a lively dance that joyfully filled the crowd. Women, girls, and even boys joined in; their movements harmonised with the rhythm of the drums.

The festivities continued until mid-day when a sumptuous lunch was served. People gathered in groups, relishing generous benachin servings, a flavorful rice and mutton dish. The cooks received well-deserved praise as everyone enjoyed the delicious meal, leaving many satisfied and even surplus.

In the evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village had feasted and rested, the celebration continued with renewed enthusiasm. Additional guests arrived from neighbouring towns, including notable figures like Alhagie Bala Ceesay, a well-known local shopkeeper, along with his loyal companions Alieu and Demba, affectionately termed Alhagie Bala’s lackeys. Their unwavering dedication to Alhagie Bala was evident in their every move, resembling vigilant bodyguards.

Alhagie Bala, in his early thirties, exuded an air of affluence and respect. He was the sole shopkeeper in the area, owning a substantial store stocked with all essential goods. Rumours even circulated that he possessed another shop in Serrekunda. In addition to his commercial success, he was also a devout and generous man, having contributed significantly to the construction of the village mosque and embarked on a holy pilgrimage to Mecca.

Dressed in impeccably tailored traditional attire known as ‘Nyety Abdou,’