Omar Badjie’S Death and the Case for Marijuana Reform in the Gambia

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Omar Badjie’S Death and the Case for Marijuana Reform in the Gambia
Omar Badjie’S Death and the Case for Marijuana Reform in the Gambia

By Lt. Col. Samsudeen Sarr Rtd

Africa-Press – Gambia. The shocking death of 27-year-old Omar Badjie in Mandinaring has shaken the nation to its core, igniting protests, heated debates, and anguished cries for justice. A vibrant young man, healthy, full of promise, and described as strikingly handsome, is now gone under circumstances clouded by suspicion. The police claim Omar collapsed while running from a patrol. Eyewitnesses insist otherwise that he was mercilessly beaten, even while in handcuffs. The official narrative and the community’s testimony could not be further apart, and Omar’s grieving family is left unconvinced by hollow explanations.

The Gambia Police Force issued a press release, offering condolences to the bereaved family while promising an investigation. Yet to many Gambians, condolences delivered before facts reek of defensiveness, not transparency. The tone of the release feels less like a pursuit of truth and more like a hurried attempt at damage control.

I do not write to vilify the police as an institution. Many officers are dedicated and professional. But this tragedy throws a harsh light on systemic failings that continue to put both civilians and officers at risk. The eruption of violent protests by youths in response to Omar’s death is equally troubling, a reminder of how fragile trust has become. What matters most now is not finger-pointing but confronting the root causes that allow such tragedies to fester.

At the center of this storm lies a question we have long refused to confront, the marijuana enforcement. Omar and his friends were reportedly suspected of smoking cannabis. In The Gambia, a young man caught with even a single “joint” risks not only arrest and jail but also a permanent scar on his future. Fear of this fate may well have pushed Omar to flee, a decision that ended with his untimely death.

This is not just a Gambian problem. In the early 2000s, while living in New York, I saw how marijuana laws fell hardest on poor and marginalized communities. Young black and Hispanic men were routinely handcuffed, jailed, and criminalized for amounts so small they could vanish in a breeze. Stories abounded of officers planting drugs to pad their arrest numbers. Meanwhile, wealthier and privileged youths smoked openly with little fear of consequence. Justice was selective, and injustice glaring.

Had I myself been arrested for smoking marijuana as a young student teacher, my life would have veered off course entirely. I would not have become a teacher, soldier, commander of the Gambian National Army, or a diplomat. I would have been branded a criminal before my life had even begun. Omar may well have been running from that very stigma.

The irony of history is bitter. Former U.S. Presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama both admitted to smoking marijuana in their youth, back when it was illegal. Had either been arrested, neither would have risen to the Oval Office. Today, marijuana is sold legally in American shops, smoked openly in city parks, and glamorized by celebrities who once would have faced jail time for the same act.

In 2015, during my reconciliation meeting with former President Yahya Jammeh in New York, I urged him to consider decriminalizing marijuana in The Gambia. I argued that regulated legalization could prevent young men like Omar from being criminalised into oblivion. Jammeh was half-convinced, though powerful figures like Amadou Samba pushed back. Yet today, almost every U.S. state has moved toward decriminalisation, leaving us stuck with outdated laws and outdated thinking.

The truth is uncomfortable that marijuana use in The Gambia is not confined to wayward youths in street corners. It cuts across every stratum of society. Respectable adults, civil servants, soldiers, and even those in our security services indulge quietly. During my years in the GNA, I knew high-ranking officers who smoked. Even in Mile Two Prison, marijuana found its way inside, often courtesy of prison staff themselves. To pretend otherwise is nothing but hypocrisy.

In my memoir *Coup D’etat*, I wrote about both the stimulating and destructive effects of marijuana. It can heighten creativity, imagination, and appreciation of art. But it can also cripple focus, dull reasoning, and erode discipline. It is not harmless. Youths must be guided honestly about its risks. Personally, had I not abandoned the habit, I doubt I would have completed my education or pursued engineering. That was my turning point.

But guidance, not criminalisation, is the key. Education, counseling, and smart regulation achieve more than the iron fist of fear ever will.

Whether Omar died from the blows of a baton or from exhaustion while running, the truth remains unchanged, his death was avoidable. It was the culmination of outdated laws, overzealous enforcement, and a broken trust between police and the public. If we are to honor his memory, we must reform.

I propose urgent steps for the Gambia Police Force and policymakers:

1. Decriminalise limited marijuana possession, focusing on traffickers, not users.

2. Record police operations, body cameras if affordable, or even video logs during patrols, to create accountability and protect both officers and civilians.

3. Launch honest public education campaigns on marijuana’s risks, stripping away hypocrisy and moral panic.

4. Promote dialogue, not confrontation, with our youth, rebuilding the trust that is dangerously fraying.

Omar Badjie’s death should not be swept into the dustbin of forgotten tragedies. His story must be a turning point. If the US and Europe, after decades of failed “wars on drugs,” can now embrace reform, why should The Gambia lag behind? Criminalising marijuana users while quietly tolerating its widespread consumption only breeds resentment, distrust, and more needless deaths.

Omar’s life was cut short under circumstances that should never have been allowed to unfold. The best tribute we can pay him is not in slogans or protests alone, but in real reform, laws that protect rather than persecute, policing that safeguards rather than terrorizes, and a society that guides rather than condemns. Let us ensure his death was not in vain.

Source: The Standard Newspaper | Gambia

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