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The pioneer alumni of the then Media Training Centre (of The Gambia) that graduated a pack of journalists from publishing and broadcasting outfits in 2005, join the nation in mourning the sudden passing of journalist Pa Modou Faal. 
Mr. Faal was involved in a car crash and pronounced dead yesterday. Like many others entrapped with grief in this hour, this tragic news was received with a chilling disquiet by our MTC Almuni WhatsApp Group as we struggled to make sense of its untimeliness.
Mr. Faal, also called ‘Koto’ or ‘McGi’ (out of respect for his exemplary work and longevity in journalism), had built bridges of friendship and comity with all of us, both in individual capacities and as a collective. He touched our lives with his gentle spirit that illuminated peace, soothing comfort, love, and fraternal fealty to the profession we all once shared. As recipients of UNESCO scholarships that granted us admission into a journalism program with the Indiana University of Pennsylvania, with the late doyen journalist Baboucarr Gaye as Program Coordinator, we did many things together both in The Gambia and in Senegal. The program structure exposed us to all the local media houses and their editorial philosophies and house styles. The program also took us to Senegal where we toured RTS and other Senegalese media establishments, almost two decades ago. Pa Modou was an active participant in all this space of scholastic and cultural excursions. These encounters, like those that preceded them, helped us to strengthen our bonds deeper into the future, the reason we are here to rehearse the lived memories that he helped build with us. He cherished these interactions deeply. His death has hit us hard. We indulge the aggrieved family in mourning.
Mr. Faal was a man of peace, of humility, and uprightness. His well-mannered nature and soft-spoken voice almost always rose above jiffies of contentious frenzy in our league. As in any other social groups, our discourse sometimes turns pyroclastic, often on issues of national relevance. But Pa Modou had shone as the group’s peace angel that quietens internal turbulence. He did all these without affronting our individual sensitivities. He had also used his connections to keep our group updated about public health updates, especially with the current Covid pandemic. His caring nature and voice of reason will be sorely missed.
In what now appeared to us as a farewell note (and unknown to us until the knells of death set off), he shared a deeply weighty message (extract below) about the ephemerality of life on our group:
‘The Kuwaiti writer Abdullah JarAllah has died. He is the writer of these very touching words:
I will not worry upon my death nor be unduly concerned about my body, for my Muslim brothers will do the needful. They will disrobe me, wash me, enshroud me, take me from my home, and carry me to my grave. Many will come to participate in my Janaaza. They would have taken time off their jobs or cancelled appointments in order to attend my burial.
My belongings will be disposed of.
My keys, books, briefcase, shoes, clothes and so on.
If my family are amenable, they will donate my things to benefit me.
Be rest assured the world would not mourn my death, and the movement of the world wouldn’t stop, and trading will continue, and someone else will do my job, and my wealth will be lawfully inherited by my heirs, whilst I will be taken to account for it.
A little, or a lot, nothing will be unaccounted for’.
We will miss him and his ever-smiling face. May his soul rest in the peace he so richly deserve.