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Book ExtractTWO DAYS BEFORE the deadline, Deyda convened a meeting of the independent media owners at The Point office building, after a barren discussion with the chairman of the NMC, Justice Abdou Karim Savage, earlier in the day. Deyda spoke in an apocalyptic tone. “We either do something now or we’re doomed forever.” The room was hushed up as he spoke. Alagi Yorro Jallow said, “We need to meet again to take a stand and issue a communiqué.” Deyda nodded and smiled for the first time that day. At the next meeting held on Thursday, 13 May 2004 at The Point office building, he said, “This is what we’re going to do.” He then outlined his plan and invited reactions from the meeting. His colleagues looked at one another wide-eyed. And then a murmur of agreement rippled through the room. “Good,” they said in unison.
It was now left
to Deyda to deliver the coup de grace. He had been asked to write the
communiqué. The NMC was in for a rude awakening. Instead of complying with the
NMC-Friday-May-14-deadline, he published the communiqué in the
The Bite
column on that very Friday the
ultimatum was to run out. It was headlined: Defence of Press Freedom
Declaration, signed by
The Point
,
The Independent,
In the Declaration, the signatories reviewed the legal steps they had so far taken against the NMC and then reaffirmed their willingness to let the law take its course “instead of lending their support to a body whose legitimacy they have been challenging for the past four years or so”. “In view of the foregoing,” they added, “we have decided on our own to shut down our newspapers and radio station for a week to register our vehement protest against the insistence of the Media Commission to register us.” But there was a conciliatory gesture. “The signatories do not however close the door for further consultations on the matter.” They then appealed to the general public to bear with them, but insisted that they had no choice but to take “a principle stand” against the operations of the NMC because “there is [a] threat to freedom of expression” in the country.
So from Monday,
17 May to Sunday, 23 May 2004,
The Point,
The Independent,
It stampeded Dr
Amadou Scattred Janneh into action. Dr Janneh was the secretary of state for
communication, information and technology at the time. Mild and amiable, Dr
Janneh, a former university teacher in
Deyda went to the meeting with the other gladiators – Demba Jawo, Alagi Yorro Jallow and Sam Sarr, an editor with Foroyaa , and Madi Ceesay, who stood in for Swaebou Conateh. “Gentlemen of the press,” Dr Janneh began, “you are welcome.” His opening gambit made everyone laugh, relieving the veiled tension in the room. He looked at the government delegation comprising Justice Savage, Mr Momodou Singhateh, the NMC secretary; Mr Baba Drammeh, NMC member; and Saidou Jallow, the permanent secretary at the department of state for communication, information and technology. He continued, “We’ve got to find a way round this impasse. That’s why we’re here.” Deyda picked up the gauntlet. “The independent media must be allowed to regulate themselves. On this point, there’s no compromise.” “Journalists,” Justice Savage said, “are not above the law. The constitution of the land stipulates the establishment of the National Media Commission. So journalists must comply with the Commission.” But Dr Janneh is not known to be a master of tact and discretion for nothing. He had convened this meeting to find the middle ground and was not about to let any rigid posture get in the way, so he threw in his trump card. “I have a deal,” he said. Deyda said, “Lay your cards on the table.” Dr Janneh huddled up with Saidou Jallow and whispered for a moment. Then he turned to face the meeting. “I propose a three-month moratorium. While the moratorium lasts, we’d all work out possible ways to amend the Act.” Deyda gaped at him, stunned by Dr Janneh’s masterstroke. A lengthy discussion, free of flare-ups, followed. Deyda eventually conferred with his colleagues who murmured their agreement. He smiled at Dr Janneh. “We welcome your peace-offering.” Dr Janneh led the applause, and then the others picked it up, accompanied by much laughter and backslapping. Amidst this excitement, Dr Janneh cleared his throat. The room went dead silent. “Gentlemen of the press, we’ve got a deal.” There was another round of hearty laughter. Then the attendees dispersed, glad that they had met each other half way. On Saturday, 22 May, shortly after the truce meeting, Deyda got a tip-off that made the NMC saga look like a seesaw, alternating between hope and despair. “The President? What did he say about the moratorium?” His brow furrowed into a frown, as he switched off his mobile phone.
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