If journalism were a cathedral, Pa Modou Bojang, the proprietor of Home Digital FM and Membekering TV, would not merely be the graffiti artist scrawling obscenities on its sacred walls; he would be the torchbearer setting it ablaze, ignorant of its beauty, blind to its sanctity, and utterly devoid of remorse for the destruction he causes. 

He is not simply mediocre; he is the epitome of charlatanism—a tribalist, an opportunist, and a demagogue masquerading as a journalist. His craft is not the pursuit of truth or the enlightenment of the public but a grim spectacle of deceit and divisiveness cloaked in the tattered robes of press freedom. Where the profession demands integrity and rigour, Bojang brings mediocrity and malice; where it calls for the pursuit of truth, he offers conjecture. 

Like a counterfeit preacher twisting scripture to suit his whims, Bojang hides behind the noble banner of journalism to push tribal grievances, spew venom, and propagate half-truths. His every broadcast reeks of the unholy marriage between ignorance and arrogance—a cacophony of lies, insults, and baseless accusations delivered with the conviction of a man utterly unbothered by the weight of evidence or accountability.

Imagine a failed actor stumbling onto the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Company, bellowing incoherent lines in a performance so crass it leaves the audience gasping in disbelief—not at his audacity but at his sheer ineptitude. Or envision a counterfeit banker parading through the hallowed halls of the Bank of England, clutching forged notes and railing at those who expose him. Such is the essence of Pa Modou—a figure who mistakes noise for news, insult for insight, and spectacle for substance.

His latest tirade, a vitriolic attack on LamToro News following the publication of my opinion piece on 27 November 2024, epitomises his ineptitude and malice. The article, which analysed the legal dispute between Rohey Manjang and The Alkamba Times, was clearly labeled as an opinion piece—a fact as apparent as a firefly in the dark. Yet Bojang, blind to nuance and deaf to reason, accused LamToro News of bias while conveniently ignoring that the article was also published on other platforms such as Gambiana, Concern TV The Gambia, Mamos TV, and Academia.edu. His outrage was not merely misplaced; it was a carnival of absurdity—a spectacle of misdirected fury that revealed more about his own inadequacies than the content of the piece.

Bojang should have known that LamToroNews committed no ethical violation by publishing an opinion piece that was well-researched, clearly labeled, and attributed to its author. His attack on the paper demonstrates not only a failure to comprehend the distinction between news and opinion but also a deliberate attempt to mislead his audience.

If Bojang had even a shred of journalistic integrity, he would have taken up his grievances with the author—who, for the record, issued a public disclaimer taking full responsibility for the views expressed. But no, this master of theatrics has instead chosen to wage a futile war against an entire media house. One might think this is an act of strategy, but alas, it is merely a display of his profound ignorance. 

Bojang’s ignorance of basic journalistic principles is astonishing, even by the lowest standards. The distinction between news and opinion—a cornerstone of the craft—is entirely lost on him. He conflates critique with personal attack, fact with fiction, and accountability with animosity. His selective outrage is not only disingenuous but a testament to his inability to engage with ideas that challenge his narrow worldview.

In journalism, the distinction between news and opinion is not just critical—it is sacrosanct, as inviolate as the Bank of England’s gold vaults. News is the pursuit of objectivity, a careful excavation of facts to inform the public without bias or agenda. It operates with the precision of a barrister arguing before the High Court, relying on evidence, coherence, and transparency. Opinion, on the other hand, is the realm of analysis and critique—a space for perspectives and interpretations, clearly marked to avoid misleading readers.

The importance of separating news from opinion cannot be overstated. News builds trust; opinion fosters debate. Both have their place in journalism, but they serve different purposes. When these two are conflated, journalism ceases to be a pillar of public trust and instead becomes a dangerous cocktail of misinformation, propaganda, and polemics.

Bojang’s call for a boycott of LamToroNews is an act of desperation, the hollow roar of a man who cannot compete on merit. It is the mark of jealousy masquerading as principle, a juvenile attempt to tear down what he cannot emulate. Such behaviour is reminiscent of the petty rivalries that once plagued Fleet Street, where disreputable editors stooped to slander rather than elevate their craft. Yet even those rivalries occasionally produced sharp wit and innovation; Bojang’s antics offer only bile and blunder.

His statements about LamToro News are so wildly inaccurate and poorly constructed they raise a profound question: how on earth did this man convince himself he belongs in the media industry? He is to journalism what a drunken pianist is to Beethoven—a loud, clumsy imitation with no sense of timing or tune.

Bojang’s jealousy toward LamToro News is palpable and pathetic. Unable to match its reach or credibility, he lashes out with the desperation of a drowning man clutching at straws. It brings to mind the infamous British journalist Robert Pate, whose shoddy reporting during the Crimean War made him a laughingstock. Yet even Pate, for all his faults, had the excuse of chaos and danger; Bojang operates from the comfort of a studio and still manages to churn out work so flawed it would make Pate seem like a Pulitzer laureate.

A few years ago, Bojang launched a similarly vicious and unfounded attack on Freedom Newspaper and its late editor, Pa Nderry Mbai—a man who, by all accounts, did more for Bojang than Bojang has ever done for himself. In a moment of desperation, Bojang turned to Freedom Radio, sobbing live on air as he pleaded with Mbai to intercede on his behalf against deportation orders from the British Home Office. Mbai, displaying a kindness Bojang would later betray, advocated tirelessly for him. Not only did he save Bojang from deportation, but he also provided him with a platform on Freedom Radio. 

Yet when Bojang launched his own media outlet, Home FM, he turned on Pa Nderry with venom, hurling insults and engaging in character assassination against the very man who saved him from deportation. Such ingratitude is rare even among the most hardened scoundrels and speaks to the depths of Bojang’s moral bankruptcy.

Perhaps most galling is Pa Modou’s betrayal of Sheriff Bojang Sr., a relative who gave him his first break at the Observer. Sheriff Sr., a respected figure in Gambian media, offered Pa Modou mentorship and an opportunity to learn, only to become a target of his venom later. What was Sheriff’s crime? Accepting a ministerial role in the Jammeh government. This, in Pa Modou’s eyes, was an unforgivable act—a decision that somehow offended his twisted sense of loyalty. Pa Modou launched baseless attacks against Sheriff, accusing him of betrayal while conveniently forgetting the many times Sheriff had lifted him from obscurity. It is the height of ingratitude, a hallmark of Bojang’s character, that he would malign the very person who once gave him a platform to succeed.

As proprietor of Home FM, Bojang’s reputation has only worsened. His broadcasts are a bizarre amalgamation of unchecked allegations, petty vendettas, and outright fabrications. In April 2023, he was accused of defaming Yassin Bah, a respected businesswoman from Brikama. Rather than issuing a retraction or apology, Bojang doubled down on his baseless claims, proving once again that accountability is an alien concept to him. Home Digital FM, far from being a reliable source of information, has become a cesspool of sensationalism, where facts are optional and self-promotion reigns supreme. His venomous rhetoric, often veering into tribalism, has further tarnished his reputation, making him a figure of division rather than unity.

Bojang’s penchant for targeting respected figures is particularly galling. Imam Alhagie Abdoulie Fatty, a revered religious leader, became one of his most high-profile victims. Bojang’s attacks on the Imam were neither factual nor necessary, but rather crude attempts at character assassination. Such behaviour not only undermines journalism but also sows divisions in a society that values unity and respect. 

Bojang’s broadcasts, steeped in malice and devoid of evidence, represent the very antithesis of what journalism should aspire to be: fair, accurate, and responsible. His rhetoric is less about informing the public and more about settling personal scores, a grotesque misuse of the platform he has been granted.

If there is any justice, Bojang’s legacy will not be that of a journalist but of a man whose ambition far exceeded his ability. He will be remembered not for what he built but for what he destroyed—a legacy of mediocrity, malice, and missed opportunities. Journalism deserves better than him, and so does The Gambia. Let his story serve as a reminder of the standards we must uphold and the values we must defend.

Who is Really Pa Modou Bojang?

Pa Modou Bojang is a name that conjures up neither admiration nor respect in journalistic circles, but rather disdain and ridicule. To call him a journalist is a stretch so absurd it might make a Victorian penny dreadful editor spit out their sherry. His career is an extraordinary parade of mediocrity, ethical failures, and opportunism, more akin to a serial character in a lurid tabloid scandal than to a serious media professional. If journalism is the noble pursuit of truth, then Bojang’s exploits are its grotesque parody, a farce riddled with half-truths, outright lies, and the sort of ineptitude that would make even the most scandal-prone Fleet Street hacks of old blush.

Much like the infamous Horatio Bottomley—a conman and pseudo-journalist of Edwardian Britain—Bojang has perfected the art of self-promotion while contributing nothing of substance to the craft he claims to practice. His lack of education is painfully evident in every garbled sentence he utters, his grammar collapsing under the weight of its own incompetence.

At the Daily Observer, where he slithered his way in thanks to nepotism rather than talent, he quickly became the newsroom’s albatross. Pa Modou is a high school dropout—a stark reminder of the glaring gaps in his credentials and capabilities. Let us not forget that Pa Modou’s education was in French, and his English was so deplorable that a Nigerian editor once confided in me about the lengths they went to decode Pa’s writings. It involved interpreters—yes, interpreters—to translate his fractured attempts into passable English for publication. The late Sheikh Kanuteh, then anchoring the French news column, often had to salvage Pa’s incoherent submissions, transforming them into something vaguely readable.

Pa Modou’s laziness and penchant for sensationalism were legendary. His reports often lacked substance, but they brimmed with hyperbole. Had he joined the Daily Observer under a stricter editor, he wouldn’t have lasted a day in the newsroom. However, Sheriff Bojang’s benevolence saw him tucked under the wings of more capable reporters like Kanuteh, who practically ghostwrote his bylines.

Even with this support, Pa Modou struggled. His social media posts today are a testament to his lack of education. One only needs to read his Facebook rants to question whether this man ever stepped foot in a classroom. His grammar is atrocious, his arguments puerile, and his tone perpetually bitter.

While at the Daily Observer, Bojang claimed to be a correspondent for the Casamance region, but his reporting was an open secret in the newsroom. He would spend days in Mandinary, fabricating stories and attributing fictitious quotes to MFDC rebels, then submit them under his byline. These fabrications were known to everyone in the newsroom, including Sheriff Bojang Sr. and Sheriff Bojang Jr., but he was shielded by familial ties. Despite this protection, his incompetence was glaring; his articles were incoherent, his hygiene abysmal, and his work ethic nonexistent. As such, his departure from the Observer was met not with farewell wishes but with sighs of relief, as the newsroom finally rid itself of its most infamous liability.

But Bojang’s ineptitude was not confined to the Observer. He later found his way to Yiriwa FM, where his stint was even shorter and more disastrous. Accusations of dubious dealings and a general lack of professionalism led to his swift dismissal, leaving behind a legacy of embarrassment and legal entanglements. His downfall culminated in an arrest and lawsuits that exposed the full extent of his unscrupulous behaviour. Yet, true to his opportunistic nature, Bojang fled to the United Kingdom, where he concocted an asylum claim so fantastical it could have graced the pages of The Illustrated London News. Claiming his life was under threat in The Gambia—a claim dismissed by those who knew him as laughable—he sought to evade the consequences of his actions. Unsurprisingly, the British Home Office, unimpressed by his melodrama, placed him on deportation orders.

As for his media credentials, let’s be clear: Pa Modou Bojang is a half-baked practitioner at best. Calling him a journalist is an insult to the profession. He  managed to secure a broadcasting license during the post-2017 gold rush of opportunists returning to The Gambia. But make no mistake: his “success” was not built on skill or talent but on exploiting the lax standards of the time. His grovelling adulation of political figures like Lawyer Ousainou Darboe, complete with nauseating videos and sycophantic commentary, is not journalism—it’s bootlicking dressed up as broadcasting.

To call Pa Modou an “emblematic opportunist” is almost too generous. He is a relic of the kind of sensationalism and ineptitude that Gambian journalism should have outgrown. His call for a boycott of Lamtoro News is nothing more than a desperate ploy by a man whose own credibility is as shaky as his grasp of the English language.

Pa Modou is not just a bad journalist; he is a disgrace to the profession. His career is a catalogue of failures, betrayals, and fabrications, making him the poster child for all that is wrong with Gambian media. If incompetence were Pa Modou’s only sin, we might dismiss him as a harmless buffoon. Unfortunately, his failings run much deeper. Lazy, unethical, and perpetually opportunistic, he treats journalism as a vehicle for personal vendettas and sensationalist drivel.

His broadcasts are not journalism but a tragic parody of it. He does not inform or educate; he incites and inflames. His words are weapons, wielded recklessly and aimed without care, leaving a trail of broken reputations and fractured communities in their wake. Pa Modou’s ineptitude is not merely a reflection of his lack of education but of his complete disregard for the foundational tenets of journalism. Rather than elevate the profession, he has chosen to debase it, trading in sensationalism, misinformation, and vitriol.

Pa Modou’s output today, whether on social media or his radio programmes, is a testament to his enduring incompetence. His grammar remains as atrocious as ever, his arguments as flimsy as wet paper, and his tone as bitter as a failed comedian booed off stage. His call for Gambians to boycott Lamtoro News is not the action of a principled journalist but the tantrum of a man whose career has been defined by failure. His inability to distinguish between an author’s opinion and a platform’s editorial stance only highlights his complete ignorance of journalistic basics—concepts taught in the first week of any journalism course worth its salt.

If he wishes to salvage even a shred of his reputation, he might consider starting with an English language class—or perhaps a course in ethics. But given his track record, even that seems like wishful thinking.

By Arfang Madi Sillah, 

Washington, D.C.

Disclaimer: 

The views expressed in this article are entirely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any affiliated institutions or organizations. The author takes full responsibility for the opinions and analysis presented herein. The author holds several academic degrees, including an undergraduate degree in English literature and literary theory.

Watch out for Part Two.