Wandering the dusty, sunlit streets of Brikama as a kid, one thing was certain: I wanted to be a writer. More specifically, I wanted to be a journalist, following in the footsteps of my cousin, Sheriff Bojang (Sr), a towering figure in Gambian journalism during the golden age of Daily Observer newspaper. Tribute is hereby respectfully paid to Kenneth Y Best, the hotheaded, larger-than-life Liberian journalist who brought Daily Observer to The Gambia, leaving an indelible mark that would shape generations of Gambian journalists.
Sheriff Sr’s Shakespearean satire, biting political critique and razor-sharp wit captivated an entire nation, even when half his readers weren’t quite sure what he was writing. To me, though, it was magic. What pulled me in wasn’t just the sheer brilliance and unapologetic flamboyance of his prose, but the authority it carried and the reverence it commanded. From politicians and students to The Gambia’s most glamorous socialites, everyone read Sheriff. And everyone respected him.
Childhood for me meant running errands for him, often awkwardly playing the charming cousin to his many romantic interests. By the way, he now says he’s grown out of the girlfriend business, graduating into some sort of sheikhhood. I’m not too sure. But I grew up idolising him. That admiration would pull me deep into the world of Gambian print journalism, where I eventually found inspiration in writers like Cherno Baba Jallow, the boy from Basse, whose words, too, lit up the pages of Daily Observer.
A few years later, I would join the ranks myself, writing as a reporter and columnist for the same paper I grew up reading, largely under the steady hand and watchful eye of Paschal Eze, the Bakau New Town-based Nigerian editor who drove me to my limits, so much so that, at times, I genuinely thought he hated me.
Why journalism wasn’t an option for me
Journalism wasn’t an option on the list for me. It was the entire list. As the son of a commercial driver and a small-town businessman, I knew early on that landing a fancy job in a government office wasn’t on the cards for me; no privilege, no shortcuts. Nah, that wasn’t my family’s world.
The clock was ticking. I had to hustle early, to figure out what I wanted and needed to do with my life. That’s where Sheriff, Cherno Baba and Daily Observer came in. They gave me an opportunity to dream my own dream, steering me away from a likely path as a driver’s apprentice. I was just a Grade 10 student at senior secondary school, unshaken by a tightening dictatorship in The Gambia at the time. I was young and eager to prove myself.
But the dream was tested. Due to sustained political interference, I was compelled to resign from Daily Observer before I had the chance to truly grow in the newsroom. After a brief stint at The Independent under Alagie Yoro Jallow, I eventually left the country. The rest, as they say, is history.
When newspapers were king
But that was then, years before a single tweet could make headlines. Back in those days, the newspaper was the most trusted and revered source of news in The Gambia. Scenes of people lining up at newsstands in Westfield and other bustling spots were once a common sight. A bold headline could ignite heated debates in our homes, attaya vous, restaurants and workplaces.
Hassoum Ceesay, one of The Gambia’s foremost historians and a former editor at the Daily Observer, traces the roots of this powerful medium back to the 1870s.
“The first regular newspaper in The Gambia was The Bathurst Times,” Ceesay explains. “It was started by Aku merchants to promote their businesses. But it also gave a platform to the educated elite to contribute to public discourse. Even then, newspapers were run as solid business ventures.”
Ceesay believes that despite the absence of modern technology, those early papers were influential and profit-driven, traits that would define Gambian journalism for over a century.
A rough, raw beginning
Veteran journalist Demba Ali Jawo remembers a more rugged phase in Gambian newspaper history.
“In the 1970s and early ’80s, newspapers were little more than typewritten A4 sheets duplicated using ink rollers,” he says. “Most of the journalists weren’t trained. They’re just passionate individuals writing to be heard.”
Jawo’s first front-page article in 1979 got him arrested. But that’s when he knew journalism was his calling.
Enter The Standard
By the 2000s, the once-thriving print industry had begun to shrink. But one publication stood tall; The Standard, launched in 2010 by Sheriff, my cousin.
“It was born during a time of heavy censorship under Yahya Jammeh,” says Lamin Cham, the paper’s current editor-in-chief. “There was nostalgia for the bold journalism of the ’90s. The Standard aimed to revive that.”
Then came the digital wave. Bam! Social media exploded into our lives, changing not just how news is consumed, but how it’s created and shared. Now, at the click of a button, in the blink of an eye, you can access what used to take a newsroom and a printing press 24 hours to deliver.
Meanwhile, The Standard was shut down twice by the Yahya Jammeh regime, including after reporting on the controversial Mile 2 executions. But it returned in 2013 and has since become one of the country’s leading dailies.
Cham credits The Standard’s survival to strong content and editorial integrity. “People still want to own a newspaper. That’s what we offer — a tangible product, rich with analysis, commentary, and human-interest stories.”
Digital disruption
Today, we live in the era of infinite scroll and the rise of digital media has been relentless. As a political editor for a major international online publication, my world now revolves around digital media. I write, edit and publish stories straight from the scroll of my phone, tablet or laptop, be it in my home office, at the park, on the train, or between flights at the airport. I rely on platforms like X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, and various news websites—and not traditional newspaper pages— to stay informed about developments across the continent and around the world.
Across The Gambia today, Facebook, X and TikTok have transformed how people consume news, raising a crucial question: Do our newspapers still matter or are they relics drowning in the flood of social media?
“You don’t need to buy a paper to get the news anymore,” admits Jawo. “It’s all on your phone.”
Even Cham agrees: “Yes, the prediction that newspapers will die has been around for a while.” But in The Gambia, he argues, I don’t think that will happen anytime soon, adding “our print edition continues to thrive even when we publish the same content online.”
In a move to adapt, The Standard is making its own digital leap, building a stronger presence on the web and expanding its social media presence.
But Cham insists the printed version still holds its own. “People still want that physical connection. And advertisers know the value of being in print.”
A legacy worth preserving?
Despite shrinking readership and growing digital pressure, many believe newspapers remain irreplaceable.
“Print publications are historical records,” Jawo says. “You can revisit an old paper. You can’t do that with a radio broadcast unless it was recorded. Social media is too fleeting.”
Ceesay, ever the historian, is even more emphatic: “Gambian newspapers have an uncanny ability to reinvent themselves. If we’re serious about journalism in this country, we must not overlook the power of print.”
Looking ahead
Speaking to young Gambians — most of them glued to their phones — I came to understand that the future of journalism in the country lies in bridging the generational divide. Newspapers must evolve without losing their soul.
“We’re constantly innovating, whether it’s offering diverse opinions, covering untold human stories, or providing international perspectives. That’s what keeps us relevant,” says editor Cham.
For some, the death of newspapers isn’t a question but a countdown. For others, the heart of print journalism will always beat: steady, stubborn and strong.
So perhaps the dusty streets of Brikama didn’t just shape a young boy’s dream. They carried a legacy of ink, paper and truth that still lives on, even when the world scrolls past.
Sheriff Bojang Jr is an award-winning Gambian print, radio, TV, social media and online journalist, blogger and communications consultant. He was a president of the Gambia Press Union, head of West Africa Democracy Radio in Dakar and currently works with the Paris-based Africa Report.
