Mang Lilan Dering!
Welcome!
I don’t wish to detract from or delay Patrick’s story but if you’ve come here without introduction you might like to have a little background. Patrick and I met on Twitter almost a year ago. I was impressed by his story, which is one of both almost unimaginable grief as well as awe-inspiring resilience. Since then we have chatted almost every day on every imaginable subject and have become very close friends. I have begun helping him to get his life on track but the miracle of our connection is too great to keep to myself, so we decided to collaborate to produce the blog which are now reading. All of the words are Patrick’s—I have only edited for clarity. I hope you will find value in his work and subscribe accordingly. He is hard-working, conscientious, and generous in spite of his dire straits, and I think you will find any assistance you offer will be magnified through him. — Fletcher Moore, Red Clay Bestiary
My name is Patrick M. I am twenty-two years old and a tall boy. I live in Brikama, a big town in the western part of the Gambia. Currently I am living with my siblings and granny. Their names are Awa, Fatou, Elie, and Peter. Our Dad is no longer living. He was someone so special, caring, and loving despite being a destitute father. He lived in desperation for years and decided to take the backway route to reach Europe with the hope for better opportunities and to become self-sufficient in order to support us here. Unfortunately it became a journey of no return which led us to misery. The boat was capsized and many drowned and lost their lives. This all happened at the coast of Tripoli toward Italy. During this challenging moment we were all living in a small village bordering a well-known place called Penyem, but our village was called Sarreh Seddi. I encountered a lot of grief trying to help every member of the family at least feel better.
I, being the first born son, have tried by all means to help put food on the table and fulfill other basic needs as well while I was in senior school trying to graduate and proceed with my education. Being unskilled and half-educated or a dropout is a smooth way to failure in life. But I was always doing activities that would help, such as basket fishing and hunting antelope, rabbits, and other animals which I sold, both the skin and meat. I was doing this daily while managing to attend classes until the outbreak of the pandemic in 2020, which was the year I was supposed to graduate. This was the most mysterious, confusing, and difficult moment I have ever gone through. Lockdown was devastating and affected us badly as we were in government or public school. It was an examination year and I was without any learning material to support me for the West African Examination Certificate. Frankly I took the exams with little hope as I did not have what I dreamt of for them.
In Sarreh Seddi we were living in a leasehold system of housing and after many years the owner contacted us to say that his son was coming back from the city to get married and wanted to use the land that me and my late Dad built our house on years earlier and which we repaired twice annually. So I had to agree without compensation. We moved to Dimbaya and later to the North Bank [ed.: of the Gambia River] to benefit from the forest where I could chop wood to sell to support the family.
Life for us got better when I met an angel on a social media platform called Twitter. We chat daily deeply about life. I learned that when we say family it doesn’t only mean people who are related with blood. What impressed me most is that the angel Fletcher is someone who is willing to learn by listening with great understanding. From my perspective it is strange and loving that he still embraces diversity. He proved me wrong that parental love can’t be seen with the absence of our biological parents. I owe him and his family a debt of gratitude and long live he and his entire family. I just can’t imagine how and where I would be without his love and kindness.
Ever since he contacted me he is a light to the family and salt of the world. Currently he is paying our rent and everything we possess. I am also in college because of his assistance. I am doing a diploma in primary education. Upon completion I would become a primary school teacher. It has always been my dream to be a source to people in one way or the other, contributing positively to the society and national development. I am open minded, somebody willing to learn. My hobbies are soccer, learning new ideas and concepts, and helping people around me—moreover making friends. I speak four different languages of our native tribes. Because of our movement and current situation my siblings have to wait till summer to start school. I cook, clean, and do everything for them to be better after years of perpetual grief. My dream for them is to be self-sufficient and help others in the future as well.
Just to make clear to readers, you and your siblings were orphaned, correct? Your mother died giving birth to your twin siblings, correct? Did that happen before you lost your dad?
Yes we are orphans, but it's just an emotional story the truth is we are not all biologically related. You may find it hard to understand but the culture here is people give children to old people to nurture and raise. Granny and my late Dad were friends who lived in Penyem as neighbors in the same house but different rooms. The lady who died while giving birth is the daughter of Granny whom we all called our Mum. The kids they had are Fatou, Elie and Awa. Peter and his brother [ed.: the unnamed brother died in the same attempted crossing as Patrick’s father] were given to Granny to raise and their parents are unknown. Only Granny can tell and she never answers our family questions—when I ask her she cries and feels bad. My Dad divorced my biological mother. Later he traveled to Libya with the aim of reaching Italy by crossing the Mediterranean Sea. Unfortunately he and my brother drowned when their boat capsized. We were told this by the people he went along with. My Dad died before his wife went to labor and he couldn't make it. But the babies were alive which are Awa and Elizabeth [ed. Elie]. Life would have been better if they succeeded in reaching Italy or Germany from Libya. One of his dreams was to buy us a compound and send us all to school.
You were pretty young when all of this happened. How did you figure out how to take care of your siblings? Did you already know how to cook for instance? Or how to hunt?
Yes of course you know biological love or parents’ love is unique. I hunt rabbits and other animals which I sell for food and I learned how to do this when we were doing it together with my late Dad and elder brothers [ed. Patrick’s use of “brother” is very expansive so I’m not clear exactly who he means]. Before he left for Italy we hunted and fished together. He taught me all those skills in the bush for survival. My Dad was a very brave loving and caring person. He sacrificed a lot for us to have all our needs met. This what I admire most and I practice it in his absence. But my siblings don't know our relationship only me and Granny, and I always promised Granny to show that bond of love and care for them, however we don't share the same Mum; only the same Dad.
You mentioned that we met on Twitter. How did you get involved in Twitter to begin with? Why did you create an account?
One of my colleagues where I was doing volunteer teaching in the elementary school used it. This was before the pandemic or early months of but it took another year before I asked him to create an account for me so that I could also get connected to the world and interact with people. He had a classmate who is in Wisconsin and chatted with him during breaks in class. The classmate is a Gambian with the name Dawda Njie and he paid for college for him. I created my account for the purpose of talking to the boy for help of the Gambia college but unfortunately the boy died of Covid-19. Then later that I met you—someone who has brought my dream to reality .
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