By Nelson Manneh
For many young Gambians, the journey to Europe through the Sahara Desert begins with the hope of finding better opportunities. For Modou Ceesay, that journey ended in the desert after a single night that changed the way he viewed his life, his future and the home he had left behind.
Ceesay, who attempted to reach Europe through the irregular migration route commonly known as the “backway”, said the hardships of the journey exposed him to fear, uncertainty and the constant risk of death. But he said it was not violence or hunger alone that convinced him to return home. Instead, it was a quiet night beneath the stars in the Sahara that made him abandon his journey.
“The desert doesn’t negotiate,” Ceesay told Foroyaa as he reflected on his experience.
Before reaching the point where he decided to turn back, Ceesay said he had travelled through dangerous terrain and spent time in overcrowded camps used by migrant smugglers. Along the way, he encountered people who had endured abuse and heard stories of migrants who had been tortured by armed groups operating along the migration route.
The experience, he said, forced him to question whether continuing towards Europe was worth the risks.
Looking back on the journey, one particular night remains vivid in his memory.
“Beyond the dangers, beyond the pain, beyond everything the backway took from me, there was one night in the Sahara that gave me everything back,” he said.
“It was on a Tuesday. We were about 100 kilometres from Timbuktu, with seven more days of crossing ahead.”
According to Ceesay, the group had travelled throughout the day before the smugglers announced they would stop for the night.
“As night fell, the smugglers stopped and announced, ‘We sleep here tonight,’” he recalled.
The migrants found themselves surrounded by vast sand dunes stretching across the desert.
“We were surrounded by towering sand dunes.”
On one side of the camp, he said, heavily armed Tuareg rebels had gathered around a fire preparing attaya, the traditional tea served in many West African communities.
“On one side sat the Tuareg rebels, heavily armed and gathered around a fire, brewing attaya.”
As smoke from the fire drifted across the cool desert air, Ceesay said memories of home suddenly came flooding back.
“The smoke drifted into the cold desert air. Then, for a moment, I felt like I was home.”
He said the scene reminded him of evenings spent in his village in Jokadou, where family members and neighbours gathered beneath the Bantaba to share stories after sunset.
“That fire, that circle and that peaceful night reminded me of the Bantaba in my village,” he said.
“I remembered the evenings of my childhood when we gathered around our grandparents to listen to African folktales—stories of wisdom, courage, animals and life lessons.”
According to Ceesay, those stories were more than entertainment.
“Those stories entertained us, but more importantly, they shaped our character and taught us the values we carried into adulthood.”
Unable to sleep, Ceesay climbed to the top of one of the sand dunes.
“I climbed the highest dune and lay on my back,” he recalled.
“Above me there was no roof, no walls—only the endless sky.”
He said the silence of the desert was unlike anything he had experienced before.
“The stars seemed close enough to touch, the moon smiled gently, and the silence was complete.”
“There were no birds, no insects, no engines—just me and the desert.”
Instead of sleeping, he spent the entire night looking into the sky.
“I could not sleep. Instead, I spent the entire night gazing at the stars as childhood memories came flooding back.”
Without intending to, he began singing songs he had learned while growing up.
“Without realizing it, I began singing the songs I used to sing while herding cattle in my village,” he said.
“The same songs that once echoed across Gambian fields now echoed through the Sahara.”
The songs reminded him of his grandmother and the lessons she shared with children beneath the village Bantaba.
“Then I remembered my grandmother and the stories she told beneath the great Rambabui, our village Bantaba.”
“I could almost hear her voice again.”
“Those stories had never left me; they had simply waited for this moment to return.”
During the night, Ceesay met another migrant who was also unable to sleep.
Beside him was a Dinka man from Sudan who spoke some English.
“Beside me lay a Dinka man from Sudan who spoke some English,” he said.
The two men began sharing stories passed down to them by their grandparents.
“I shared the stories my grandparents had told me, and he shared those of his own.”
Although they came from different countries and cultures, Ceesay said they realised they shared similar traditions.
“Though we came from different tribes and different countries, we discovered that we shared the same African tradition of learning from our elders beneath the open sky.”
“That night reminded me that Africa is united not only by its land, but also by its stories.”
By the following morning, Ceesay said his feelings about the desert had changed.
“The Sahara no longer felt like a place of death,” he said.
“It felt peaceful and sacred.”
Although armed rebels remained nearby, he said the silence and vast landscape gave him a different perspective.
“Armed rebels were nearby, but beyond them were only silence, nature and breathtaking beauty.”
As he looked across the endless dunes, one thought remained with him.
“As I looked across the endless dunes, one thought stayed with me: I wish this wasn’t so far from home.”
That night, he said, helped him realise what mattered most.
Despite the hardships he had endured, the memories of his family, his village and his childhood remained stronger than his determination to continue the journey.
“It reminded me of who I truly was,” he said.
“A son of Jokadou, a grandson raised on African tales, and a boy shaped by the Bantaba, by songs, stories and the wisdom of elders.”
Following that experience, Ceesay decided to abandon his attempt to reach Europe and return home.
Reflecting on his experience, he said the memories he rediscovered beneath the Sahara sky remain with him today.
“Even on the darkest journey,” he said, “home can always find you through a memory, a song or a story beneath the stars.”
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