As November 2025 approaches its final days, many Gambians, especially in Foni, are still holding their breath for the long-promised return of former President Yahya Jammeh. He had assured his loyalists in a WhatsApp audio from Equatorial Guinea that he was “coming home” this month after nine years in exile, insisting that an MOU supposedly signed in 2017 guaranteed him the right to return after six months.
Unfortunately, like many mythological creatures, the signed MOU seem to exist only in stories. Mr. Halifa Sallah, whom Jammeh confidently listed among the signatories, has flatly denied ever signing such a document. And Jammeh, despite his enthusiasm, has failed to provide even the faintest piece of paper to support his claim, not a scan, not a screenshot, not even the shadow of a signature.
Yet his supporters, armed with blind faith and sewing machines, plunged head-first into celebration mode. In Kanilai, uniforms have been stitched, green flags hung from lamp posts, and drums polished for a homecoming that appears to depend more on hope than on reality.
Jammeh’s audio declared his imminent return but offered no logistical explanation-no date, no airport, no border crossing and no passport-and, truth be told, he does not currently possess a valid Gambian traveling document.
The assumption seems to be that he would simply materialize on Gambian soil like a biblical figure. A dramatic entrance, no doubt, but not one supported by immigration law, bilateral agreements, or common sense.
The former president’s behavior has also raised concern. Reports from Equatorial Guinea paint a picture far removed from the powerful figure he once projected. He is said to be living in increasing isolation, abandoned by family members, distrusted by his own aides, and reduced to cooking his own meals out of fear.
This is a tragic contrast to the man who once commanded a nation. It also raises an uncomfortable question about whether his contradictory statements are the product of a political strategy or something more troubling.
Reality finally arrived on November 22nd, during President Adama Barrow’s Meet-The-People tour in Foni. Addressing a crowd buzzing with anticipation, the president dismantled the fantasy with clinical precision.
He reminded them that Jammeh cannot enter The Gambia without his approval. Every power Jammeh once held is now vested in the sitting president, himself.
President Obiang of Equatorial Guinea has given no indication that Jammeh is preparing to leave.
Every movement of Jammeh in exile, from visitors to medical checkups, is known to his government.
In short, Jammeh is not coming this November, next November or any other November, unless President Barrow authorizes it.
And so, after weeks of excitement, speculation, and tailor-made uniforms, President Barrow has effectively cancelled the performance before the curtains even opened.
As for me, I must confess my disappointment as well. I had prepared my own ceremonial outfit, a fresh “Haftan with a massive Serere Chaya”, ready to join the grand November celebration of Babili Mansa’s triumphant return.
Alas, those garments will now remain neatly folded in the wardrobe, victims of a homecoming that exists only in audio recordings and wishful thinking.
The entire saga has revealed more about Gambian political culture than about Jammeh himself. It showed our appetite for spectacle, our vulnerability to rumor, and our national tendency to confuse hope with fact.
But it also reaffirmed one truth that The Gambia is no longer governed by the whims of one man.
And no amount of WhatsApp audios can reverse that reality.
As November ends, so too ends the illusion of Jammeh’s imminent return. The December we are walking into will be quieter, less dramatic, perhaps, but certainly more grounded in reality.
By Lt. Col. (Rtd.) Samsudeen Sarr
