Avant demain (Before tomorrow)

Under former dictatorship in Gambia, human rights violations particularly affected women: violence, enforced disappearances, and expulsions. Facing stigma and poverty, they are now uniting in the pursuit of justice, memory, and collective ealing.

Under the regime of former gambian dictator Yahya Jammeh, numerous human rights violations were committed, including extrajudicial executions, forced disappearances, sexual violence, torture, and arbitrary detentions. Among the thousands of victims, women were particularly vulnerable to the regime’s abuses, both directly and indirectly.

The women of the disappeared endured immense suffering. They were never officially informed of the deaths of their husbands, sons, fathers, or other family members, and most had to perform funeral rites without the bodies. The wives of soldiers living in barracks were brutally expelled after the executions and had to find refuge with relatives, losing their homes and status. Women accused of being involved in political opposition faced all kinds of abuse: harassment, torture, sexual violence.

All these women often found themselves living in extreme precariousness, especially those without financial resources. In addition to moral pain and financial difficulties, they faced stigma related to unfounded accusations: misinformation spread by the junta portrayed the deceased or the accused as guilty, provoking hostile public reactions and generating confusion, guilt, and shame among the victims, in addition to their stigmatization.

Today, in their quest for justice, recognition, and reparation, victimized women have come together despite their difficulties and traumas. They work together to survive their physical and psychological wounds, with mutual support fostering their healing and personal resilience. Their sharing of experiences and resources strengthens their ability to actively participate in justice and prevention processes. Through their work of remembrance and the long process of reparation they are building, they become agents of change and bearers of hope for the future.

Special thanks to Jakana Suso, Fatou Manej, Lele Bongan, Jarra Suwareh, Isatou Marong, Mbyan Demba, Awa Njie, Koumba Jallow (name changed), Isatou Jallow, and Fatoumatta Jallow for their testimonies, as well as to the Wave Gambia (Women’s Association for Victims’ Empowerment) and the Alliance Française of Banjul.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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I remember waking up and seeing my husband standing next to the bed. He picked up our young son, hugged him tightly, then put him down and left... I never saw him again. The next day, a policewoman privately called to tell me he was dead.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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During my mourning, six policemen came to threaten me. When one of them pointed a gun at my forehead, I told him, «Do what you want.» The soldiers said they would come for me the next day. Since I was no longer safe, I fled to Dakar. I crossed the border on foot with my 8-month-old son.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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In April 2000, a student was raped by a policeman and another killed, but when the state failed to prosecute, a call to protest was issued. My 16-year-old brother and I were there that day, before going to school. The soldiers charged. They killed eleven students and a Red Cross volunteer. My brother was shot and given up for dead, but a doctor miraculously saved him.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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In May 2016, I was arrested along with 6 other women for protesting during the "Kalama Revolution" in support of electoral reforms. I was wearing a T-shirt with the revolution's logo and the portrait of the assassinated leader. They beat me, kicking me hard in the legs with their boots. I had to endure 15 days of pretrial detention, followed by 20 days in prison, before being transfer in hospital.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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In 2016, they beat demonstrators and killed the leader of the opposition party. On April 16, I went to protest. I was beaten until I fell to the ground, the soldiers trampled on me, jumped on me. I managed to get to the emergency room, where I should have had an operation on my stomach, but I had no money. When I left the hospital, I was arrested.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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Police officers blindfolded me, stripped me naked and insulted me. I screamed and cried. They raped me. There wasn’t a spot on my body that didn’t hurt. The next day, one of the policemen took pity on me and finally helped me escape. I didn’t talk about it. I was so scared. Someone helped me so that I could finally have an operation, after 3 weeks without care.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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He got up on a Friday, went for a walk, and never came back. At that moment, I was nursing my second son. The soldiers gave my brother-in-law the 150 dalasis and the watch my husband had on him at the time of his arrest, ordering him to come see me, flanked by two soldiers. So he came, but said nothing; he was too afraid of the soldiers.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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After three days without any news from my husband, my family went to a newspaper to report his disappearance. The next day, an article stated that he had died in a gunfight at Yundum Barracks during an attempted counter-coup. It was only thanks to my uncle, who is also in the army, that I later learned the truth.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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My husband disappeared in 2006. I have two children with him, a boy and a girl. I searched everywhere for him for so many years. I looked in prisons, hospitals, and villages. I even searched in Senegal. No answers, just rumors. I hoped my husband was still alive somewhere, even though I was afraid to speak or show my grief. The government never provided any proof or helped my family.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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During the Truth, Reconciliation, and Reparations Commission, a witness stated that he had been shot and killed. I have no other answers, no document proving my husband's death. I don’t know where he is. The Minister of Justice says there will be a trial, but when?

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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What we knew about the police provoked fear, too many stories of torture. And today that I have four children from a new marriage, I will never tell them my story.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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My older brother, a lieutenant soldier, was killed in 1994. He was at my house when soldiers came to get him, saying he had to go on patrol. He had a wife and a three-month-old daughter. We searched for him everywhere. It wasn’t until 2016 that we learned of his death through the media. His body is still with the others.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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Today, his daughter is about to get married and lives in England; I’m proud because I helped my sister-in-law and niece pay for everything.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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We knew nothing about his disappearance. Rumors in the army said he had fled to Dakar. My brother-in-law was the family’s main provider with his soldier’s salary. He was fully funding my husband’s education, which he could not complete after my brother-in-law’s death. We only learned the truth about his murder years later, after the change of government.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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My husband disappeared in 2006. I have two children with him, a son and a daughter. I searched for him everywhere for so many years. The government provided no proof and did not help my family. During the Truth, Reconciliation, and Reparations Commission, a witness stated that he had been shot and killed. I have no other answers, no documents proving my husband's death. I don’t know where he is.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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I was the griot for the opposition party. I was arrested during a peaceful protest and sentenced to three years in prison. I spent three months in pretrial detention and then five months in prison. The party leader, a lawyer, helped me, and then the elections took place. The lawyers requested a trial, which was held. I was acquitted but never received an apology.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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During my arrest, they stripped me, were violent to the point of damaging one of my eyes. I was beaten so severely on my legs that I still struggle to walk today.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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It's still difficult for me to talk about it today. But here, with these women, it's the first place where I've found help and a listening ear. We're here together.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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My husband blamed me for getting involved in politics, and that I «had to pay the consequences». He disowned me. I don’t want anyone to know what happened to me, otherwise I’d never find another husband.

© Lorraine Turci - Image from the Avant demain (Before tomorrow) photography project
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It’s hard. Take your time. It will help you heal. Breathe... Breathe... Breathe... Again. It will help you. Inhale... Exhale... It’s the only thing that can help you heal. It hurts. More than hurts. You’re sad, so sad. But you must keep going. It’s your remedy. Breathe.