09/09/2026
The Day Everything Changed
It was exactly around this time! On the 8th September 2021. The day Ousman died is a day I will never forget. It happened around this time of year. I was in my room in Jeshwang. My phone was charging. As I picked it up to check a notification, it rang again. The call was from my brother, who was in Jalambang.
He told me to go quickly to Kanifing General Hospital. He said Ousman had been stabbed and was admitted there. I asked, “Which Ousman?” My mind could not accept that it was my elder brother. I knew Ousman. He was gentle. He avoided trouble. I kept asking which Ousman, until my brother nearly lost his patience with me.
Rush to the Hospital
I rushed to Kanifing General Hospital. When I reached the Accident and Emergency Unit, there was no health worker in sight. It was a time of shift change. I moved from one room to another, searching. Then I saw a shoe. I knew it belonged to Ousman. I followed a trail of blood from the shoe into a room.
There I found Ousman. He was lying on a bed, covered in blood. He wore his white underwear shirt. There was a bandage on him. I held his hand, believing he was in a coma and would wake up. I did not know he was already gone.
The Truth I Could Not Accept
A few minutes later, a PIU officer entered. He asked if I knew the man on the bed. I told him, “He is my biological brother.” He started crying. I tried to comfort him. I said, “He will be fine. It is just a wound.” The more I spoke, the more he cried.
He left and came back with a phone. He told me to answer a call from his boss. The man on the line said words like, “Bear sabr. Take heart. You must know how to inform your family. This is destined by Allah.” Even then, I still did not understand. I kept saying, “He will be fine. My other brother is on his way to the hospital.”
I went back to sit beside Ousman. I looked at him in a pool of blood. Then a doctor came and told me they could not do much. He said my brother was no more. My mind still could not accept it.
The Heaviest Moment
What broke me most came later. The same officer returned and asked me to tell my family to bring a blanket. He also said we must provide a vehicle to take the body to the mortuary in Banjul. The Kanifing mortuary was full. They could not keep the body there.
At that moment, the truth became heavy in my heart. I began to believe it was real. I could not cry. I could not speak. I could not call any family member to tell them Ousman was dead. I left the emergency room and walked helplessly around the hospital.
I called the family I lived with in New Jeshwang. I asked them to bring a blanket. Sometime later, my elder brother arrived. He called me when he got to the hospital. I went to meet him and directed him to where Ousman was. I did not tell him our brother was gone. I could not say the words.
A Family in Pain
Allah gave me strength to cope. Ousman was the first dead body I had ever seen. We were very close. What makes it more painful is that, earlier that evening, he had called our mother. She had come to visit us at home. He told her to wait, that he would be home soon. Later, he called again to say he would be delayed. That was when she left.
The youngest child in our compound, little Matida, could not sleep the entire night. She kept saying, “Ousman promised to buy me milk when he returned from his trip abroad.” But we never saw him again.
I did not see Ousman when he came back from that trip to Tanzania. The last conversation I heard with him was the day before he died. We joked as we always do in the family. The last message we shared was simple. I asked, “Are you back?” He replied, “Yes.” Those were our last words to each other.
From Kanifing to Banjul
From Kanifing to the Banjul mortuary, I held Ousman’s blood-stained shoes in my hand. It was late at night. We could not find a bag to put them in. When my aunts saw the shoes, they could not hold back their tears. Every heart was heavy.
Another Wound, Another Pain
Five months later, I became a victim of robbery while closing from school with classmates. I had Ousman’s mobile phone with me. The robbers took it. That reopened the wound.
We reported the case at Kanifing Police Station. We gave statements at the Serious Crime Unit. They said they could track my phone. I even made payment for the process. But in the end, I was told I must also pay for a “town trip” and provide transportation for the officers who would handle the case. That was where I withdrew.
I did not tell my parents about the robbery. My mother heard about it from a local news report on the radio. She called me immediately, crying. She asked, “Is this how all my children will die?” She also asked why I hid such a thing from her. That question still remains unanswered.
Living With the Pain
This is the pain and trauma our family lives with. Losing him changed me. But I carry his memory with love, and I pray that Allah grants him peace and gives our family strength.
Ousman was a mathematics teacher at Jambanjelly Upper Basic School before he joined the National Audit Office. He was more than a brother to me. He was my friend, my guide, and my hope.
May Allah increase your ranks in Jannah! Ameen!!!
Mustapha Jarju, younger brother of the late Ousman Jarju
