By Umaru Fofana
When I ran for president of the Fourah Bay College students’ union in 1995, my four challengers and I relied on the gift of the gab to canvass for votes. I was an impoverished, emaciated-looking 22-year-old who struggled to get a square meal a day. I would wear two shirts throughout the week and did not care about ensemble, even if I was handsome and looked good in them.