Ten days ago I set off with one backpack and four good friends to explore the Gambia, the itty bitty country engulfed on three sides by Senegal. Determined to see as much of the country as possible, our days were packed with dusty roads, friendly faces (Gambia, after all, is known as the Smiling Coast), lots of water bags, and many, many laughs. Though I could probably ramble on for pages, I'll try to spare you and briefly(ish!) highlight some of the most memorable moments of our adventures below:
Saturday: We left our homes at 6:00 AM, stepping out the door as the call to prayer rang through the dark streets of Dakar. Arriving in Farafenni, Gambia just before dark, we met up with my friend Mary’s friend Joanna, a Peace Corps member who has been stationed in Gambia the past two years. That night we went out dancing in a discotheque attached to the hotel, where Gambian girls were quick to come to our rescue and teach us some of the latest moves!
Sunday: We headed to Kuntaur by gelli gelli, the Gambian version of a car rapide, and from there took a boat out to the River Gambia National Park. We circled around Baboon Island for a few lazy hours, which is a haven for chimpanzees and home to baboons and hippopotami. Our guide identified each chimp by name—my favorite was Nelson Mandela—and reminded us that if a monkey happened to jump into the boat, the safety of the monkey must always come first…in spite of fact we were mere meters away from some hippos known for their rather aggressive temperaments! Fortunately, the warning remained unnecessary, and after a few hundred photos we headed by horse cart to Bani, Joanna’s Fulla village. Once there we were greeted warmly (in Pulaar) and an elderly woman led us in a welcome dance…after which she excused herself with the words, “And now I must go farm,” before rushing off! As the village had never seen so many toubabs before, we undoubtedly scared a baby or two, but all in all we enjoyed an incredibly tranquil evening under the stars before heading to bed in Joanna’s lovely little hut. Monday: We walked around an hour with Joanna through the mud (we felt rather adventurous, backpacks perched on our heads and all) to the village’s market day, where they sold what they called “dead white people’s clothes” among other homemade products; though at first I was struck by the morbidity of the description, Joanna hastened to explain their reasoning—“if they’re selling perfectly good clothes, they must be dead!” After parting with Joanna and Mary, the four of us continued our journey by gelli gelli and taxi, heading coastward to the town of Kwinella. On route, we were stopped a few times for police security checks— I will never forget the image of a giant, smiley man popping out of the brush, pointing subtly to the huge gun slung across his shoulder all the while wishing us the “nicest of evenings.” Once in Kwinella, we walked an hour to Tendaba Camp, arriving just before night fall.
Tuesday: We set off on a morning excursion by pirogue (a small canoe) to Kiang West National Park, where we observed mudskippers (mutant frog/fish), Goliath herons the size of small children, birds the color of highlighters, and a lone crocodile lazily floating on its belly. After a peaceful evening spent swimming in the camp's pool and gallivanting with some village children, we enjoyed a beautiful dinner by the riverbank.
Wednesday: After an early morning start, we travelled by gelli gelli through the booming market town Serekunda to the coastal neighborhood of Kotu. After settling in, we headed to the beach, where we made friends with Khady and Ruby, two 16 year-olds who sell peanuts on the streets to save up for school tuition. After a few games of chase and Gambian Duck, Duck, Goose, they gave us some valuable advice: “If boys come up to you, you must always tells them, “Hi, shut up!’” Advice which I later put into good use when, on the walk back to the hotel, a man pulled over on the side of the road, jumped out of his car, and followed after me in hopes of aacquiring some phone numbers!
Thursday: We travelled to a remote artist village in Tujering, which turned out to be a funny little haven for artists, complete with splatter-pained huts, chairs in trees, and doors leading to nowhere (or maybe Narnia)! Though the resident artist was currently out of town, his young brother made a most entertaining guide, showing us the best—and worst—of the Tunbung community. From the beautiful paintings and sculptures, to every single last bathroom, the topless Mandinke farming women in the backyard, and the family photos of one of their absent guests, Jean Pierre made certain we did not miss a detail of his charming home. On the way back, we made friends with farmers in Tanji, who, when asked where we might buy some mangoes, responded by throwing rocks at their mango tree and handing us a sack of them!
Friday: After a day wandering through the markets and lounging at the beach , we headed to the glamorous tourist-filled Senegambia district for some overpriced pizza and Coca Colas. That night, we reunited with Joanna and an entire posse of Peace Corps friends and headed to their favorite dance club, Paparazzi, where we danced the night away to American favorites like Dirty Dancing hits and Justin Bieber! We stayed out all night, heading back with just enough time before departing from our hotel at 5:30 AM.
Saturday: With a mere taxi ride, ferry, gelli gelli, horse cart, sept-place, plus another taxi, we made it to Dakar some 10 hours later —home at last!
Though initially sad to be returning to "regular" life and classes, my family was quick to show me that not all my adventures are behind me! Yesterday morning, minutes after dragging my travel-weary body out of bed, my host mother informed me it was time to go. Figuring the Mexican dress I’d thrown on as pajamas the night before was decent enough for wherever it was we were going, I dazedly jumped into a taxi with Mama Fat Kane and my brother Max. To my surprise, we stopped at one of the most ritzy establishments in Dakar, just in time for the formal retirement ceremony of one of Papy Jo’s best friends, a colonel-medicin, the highest military rank in Senegal. Following the ceremony, Mama Fat Kane proceeded to introduce me to National Assembly delegates over rounds of hors d'oeuvres…and so it was that I met a candidate for the upcoming presidential elections...in my pajamas! Once again, c'est la vie!
Ba beneen yoon,
Your Amy Diallo
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