Pictures:
1. The Banjul fishing fleet across the bay in the early morning.
2. Typical Gambian family fishing boat.
3. No MacDonald's but lots of these snack bars.
4. Our Gambian Limo. 4-wheel drive is not optional it's a necessity.
5. The Banjul market, a chaotic, colorful cacophony.
6. What size did you say you wanted?
March 25 – Banjul, The Gambia. We were here once before 3 years ago and enjoyed it very much. I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
It's the smallest country in Africa, less than twice the size of the state of Delaware, and in many ways a lot like Ancient Egypt. Just like Egypt's borders did not go too far from the Nile, The Gambia does not stay to far from the Gambia River. In fact the only country that The Gambia borders is Senegal. The Gambia is a narrow country running east to west on both banks of the Gambia River totally inside Senegal with its western border on the Atlantic Ocean. Because it is within a stone's throw of the river at all times, The Gambia is one of the most densely populated countries in Africa, with almost 120 people per square mile.
Evidence suggests that the first residents here were farming starting about 6,000BC. This was before the Saharan Plane became a desert. After a mysterious ecological event, (Al Gore would have you believe it was caused by human kind's greenhouse gasses. Most of the gas around old Ozone Al comes from inside him.) changed the area to the Great Sahara the people had to migrate or die. The same event formed the Sahel (suh hale) a semi-arid region across the hump of West Africa. This area is plagued with long droughts even though it often has grazing land.
From the 5th to the 15th centuries the Kingdoms of Ghana and Mali extended their influence over this area. In 1456 the Portuguese landed on James Island and quickly dominated the trade on the West African coast exchanging salt, iron, pots & pans, gunpowder and firearms for ivory, ebony, beeswax gold and slaves.
Germans built the first fort on James Island in 1651 but were displaced by the British in 1661. The French ships, African Kings and pirates were constantly harassing them so they built another fort at the site of Banjul. The British, being seafarers, extended their influence up the river until 1820 when the area was declared a British Protectorate and was governed from Sierra Leone. In 1888 it became a Crown Colony by which time Senegal had fallen into French custody.
Gambia became self-governing in 1963 and independent 2 years later. Gambia was renamed The Gambia, about the most subtle name change I've ever heard of, and the Fort of Bathurst became Banjul. Since then there have been periods of political unrest, several coups, an attempt at unification with Senegal and a dictatorship ending in proclamation of a new republic. There is still a lot of corruption in the system but it has been stable since 1996.
As we sailed into the port I could see the small fishing boats coming and going across the bay. Gambian fishing is a family affair and often the whole family goes out on the boat.
Our tour will be an 8-hour trip in the back of a 4-wheel drive, open-air truck, built much like a US Army duce and a half from the Vietnam War. The main difference is that there are chairs facing forward in pairs on either side of a center aisle. The back of the truck will accommodate 22 people and we only have 19 and there's plenty of room for everyone.
We boarded our truck right next to the gangway so no one had to walk too far, but the steel drop down ladder had some of my fellow travelers bamboozled at first. Apparently they've managed to live their whole lives (and for some that's a very long time) without ever using a ladder. Thankfully this one only had six rungs and a top step. The truck has a drop down tailgate with a ladder attached to that. Everyone had the right idea going up but some wanted to use it like a staircase and face away from the truck going down. It was at a fairly acute angle and therefore your heel really couldn't get very far into the rung before the back of your leg hit the rung above making for a very precarious perch. I told one very sweet little elderly lady that ladders are very dangerous and to show them proper respect one always faces them when going up or down. If you turn you back on one of the treacherous little buggers they may dump you on the ground. She thought that was funny but did see the wisdom of being able to get your whole foot on the rung.
I'm always concerned about the truly elderly among the ship's company. I admire their spunk and vigor to travel with their infirmities. And I can't help being amused at some of their antics. But I just can't shake the feeling that many of them are just one good fall from compromising their mobility completely. I'd hate for that to happen at any time but especially this far from home. More power to them.
Our drive out of the port was interesting. The road we were on was a dike across a mangrove swamp. The mangroves appeared to go for miles on either side. Last time we drove across this area they were expanding the dike by making the edges into a garbage dump. All that is now covered with hard packed soil but it's still full of gullies, holes, ridges and ditches. The mangrove swamp is fairly dry right now because the tide is out.
When we got across the dike onto solid ground the road was two-lane and paved. We drove into the city of Banjul and through the local market. This is a fairly large city and the market place was packed with people, cars, taxis, trucks and busses. Women dressed in very colorful clothing were both selling and buying. The art of carrying things on their heads is perfected here. Everything from huge baskets of washing to tubs of vegetables were being carried along the streets on the ladies heads. Clothing, shoes, luggage, furniture, fruits, vegetables, tires, auto parts, electronics, cameras, cell phones and every other type of consumer goods were for sale. The number of travel agencies was the most surprising thing to me. I don't remember them from three years ago.
I can personally attest that every motor vehicle in The Gambia is equipped with a horn. I think I heard every one of them going through town
After riding through town we crossed the Gambia River (remember it runs east and west for the entire length of the country) and then turned east onto the main road. It was paved and smooth but our joy was short lived as we soon turned north off the main road and were back on compacted dirt, with all its accompanying ups and downs. We drove through little village after little village as we jostled about in our seats.
Here in the countryside the children have appointed themselves as the goodwill ambassadors and greeters. They stand in little bunches waving, smiling and shouting to us as we drive past. When we pass a school the chorus is almost deafening. These kids have some lungpower.
We saw more women walking here in the villages, some very dressed up, others in more ordinary clothes. The women in more normal daily wear are often carrying something balanced on their heads. The dressy ladies usually had on very ornate headgear that would totally preclude them from carrying anything on their heads. Most of the men I saw were sitting in small groups talking.
There were small herds of goats wondering the streets looking for something to eat. The guide said that, although the goats roam free, no one would bother them. Theft is dealt with on the spot. In fact, he said it was ok to beat a thief to death if you could catch him. When the cry of 'Thief, thief' goes up, the suspect will run as fast as he can to the police station for protection. Better to go to jail than to be beaten to death. I can say that I am in total agreement with that sentiment.
We stopped at the main square of a small village at about 10am or so. In the center of the square was a round cement patio about 20 feet in diameter with a 2-3 foot wall around it with an open space to enter. In the center of this area there were two consecutively smaller 8 inch high circular tiers the highest one about 10 feet in diameter centered on the larger one. The Pennsylvania Dutch would have called this highest tier the 'pump floor'. Directly in the center were two manual, one-armed pumps just like we used in the USA. This one was not cast iron like ours but the principle was the same. Theirs looked more like welded tubular and square steel. Directly under the faucet of the pump was a cement trough that quickly necked down to a long open channel and ran out about 25 feet from the largest circle with the wall. This channel ended in a watering trough for animals. The water pumping for the day must have been over as the only occupants of the square were children.
The road we are on winds across the countryside passing through the center of every little village along the way. We are really getting a feel for the real The Gambia and life here. Some people wave at us, others ignore us completely and a small minority gives us looks of complete distain. Oh well, at least they're not throwing anything at us. Most seem happy to greet us if we wave at them and a lot smile and wave first. You can't expect everyone to be pleased.
In one open area of countryside there were hundreds of termite mounds. These large usually pointed, generally pyramid shaped, steep sided hills were everywhere. Some were heavily eroded and more lump shaped but most were still very sharply defined. This must be termite Florida, lots of retirement high-rises grouped closely together.
This is the one place in the world where I have not seen a single USA fast food chain, no McDonalds, no Burger King, no Pizza Hut, no KFC, nothing. They do have Coke signs around. In fact, many of the small mom and pop snack stands have tables with Coca-Cola umbrellas, but no fast food chains of any kind. I haven't seen a gas station of any kind since we left Banjul. I'm sure there are some spaced out on the only paved road that runs along the river to the other end of the country but out here, away from that road, nothing.
After we drove for about another 45 minutes we arrived at the Wellingara Lower Basic School compound. Where we were introduced to the headmaster, Mr. Malamin Badjie. We spent some time greeting the children and then went into a classroom where the teacher joined us. She gave us a short presentation on the school and it's operations and plans for future expansion.
The school covers grades 1-9 and has kids from 7 to 16. There are several buildings, two have classrooms, one is a cookhouse and one is for administration. The Gambia's schools are modeled after the British system with terms like 'O-Level' (10th grade graduate), '6th Form' (13th grade graduate) and 'A-Level' (14th grade graduate-roughly equivalent to our Associate of Arts degree from a 2-year college). Up to grade 9 the school is free but the parents must purchase uniforms and school supplies. After grade 9 there is tuition to pay in addition to that.
The instruction is all in English and so are the materials on the walls around the classroom. We were in a third grade classroom and they had the water cycle, the food chain (simplified), types of fruit, the multiplication table and classroom rules prominently displayed on the walls. Rule #2 was 'Speak only English in class." Rule #3 was "No fighting in class."
She had the children sing s a few songs for us and some of them broke into spontaneous dance while they sang. We were in with what appeared to be 8-9 year old girls and boys. They were a happy lot, smiles all around. As we were leaving the classroom they rushed to the front to shake hands with each of us as we left. I took Diana's picture with several of them. They squeal with delight when you show them the picture you took. I wish there was some easy way to give them a copy.
After the performance was over we were invited to go through the school buildings. Lessons from the previous day were still on the blackboards. Then we toured the kitchen; basically four large, covered pots built into brick fireplaces that burn wood for heat. There were large mixing bowls holding what looked like corn porridge. We'd been told by out guide that their staple food is corn cooked with some type of meat. Apparently that goes for school lunch as well.
We are in a four-truck caravan. After leaving the school we split into two two-truck groups and each group stopped in the village nearest the school to visit a different Gambian home compound. Our guide explained that people did not borrow money for housing. The built as they went. What they do is buy the land first, then save enough money to build a house. When that is done they save enough money to buy block, sand and concrete to build a wall around the property. After that they buy more block, sand and concrete to build a kitchen building, animal housing and whatever buildings they may want to have. The average compound seemed to be one-third to one-half acre with some much bigger if they were farmers. The large ones use woven stick fences for the agricultural area and only use block around the living part of the compound. So it is not at all uncommon to see a plot of land at any of these stages with piles of sand or block waiting for the other ingredients to be purchased before construction.
The compound we are visiting is agricultural. A stick fence surrounds his land with occasional block wall interspersed. Once inside the fence you found yourself in a large courtyard facing the house. The house had a recessed porch across the center half of the front. You entered directly into a sparsely furnished living room. In one corner there was a table with what appeared to be a CD player on it and a few chairs. Except for that there was no other furniture in evidence. There were some photos on the walls and printed cloths hanging like curtains against solid wall, but not much else.
Just off the living room at one end was a utility room. A large plastic tub on the floor held the family's fresh water. Just outside the outer door of this room was the compound's well. It had a pulley and rope system for lowering the scoop for water. It appeared to be about 30 feet to the water level and the owner told us the total depth was 50 feet. A twenty-foot high, 4 foot in diameter cylinder of water is quite a few gallons but unless you know the seep rate you don't know how often it refills itself. The sole electric light, just a bare bulb (a CFL bulb by the way) in a socket that hung loosely from the ceiling, was the only light source in the room. There was a flashlight in the utility room as well. There were three bedrooms that we could look into. Each contained only one bed and was sparsely furnished.
The owner is Muslim and has 4 wives. According to the guide he spends 2 nights with each in turn. The wife he's sleeping with becomes the inside wife and takes care of the meals and the home. The other three wives go off to work in the fields. He has 13 children with the four wives and they appeared to range in age from about 4 to 16. The kids had a pet plover in addition to the chickens and goats running around the family compound. We never could figure out where the children sleep. Maybe they sleep communally or with the wives that are not with the husband.
Next to the house was a separate building for cooking. The Pennsylvania Dutch farm had the equivalent; it was called a 'Summer Kitchen' and they used it so the wood stove they used in the regular kitchen would not be lit to heat up the house when the weather was hot. My maternal grandmother used a wood-burning stove until 1956. The woman of the house was out there peeling vegetables and washing them in a bowl of water. Later I saw her on the front porch cleaning rice in a large bowl. I didn't see any evidence of running water in the house or the kitchen.
On the side of the house opposite the kitchen there was a long building running perpendicular to the house with a large extension of the metal roof shading the area in front of it. It looked like a row of rooms with doors. This could have been a work area or laundry area. There was laundry hanging on ropes suspended under the eaves.
In the center of the courtyard there was a group of three trees shading a long wooden bench for sitting in the shade. Everything looked clean and well cared for, the people and the things.
During the morning we had crossed the paved road a few times but not driven on it since we left town. Now we headed out to the paved road again and turned east to go further inland. After driving about a quarter of a mile we turned north and were on dirt roads again. Our destination is a winery that produces coconut palm wine and 'Firewater'. They gather the sap of the coconut palm by cutting off a group of fronds, tying them together and putting a bottle at the end for the sap to drip into. We saw this process in the South Pacific but there they just leave the bottle hanging there for 6-8 weeks and the sap ferments itself in the sun. Here they gather the sap and go through the regular wine making process to produce a milky colored very wine that, is about like a Port or Madeira, a little sweet and fortified. The smell was faintly coconut but not very strong.
If they want to make the 'Firewater' they take this wine and run it through a still to produce a whiskey like product, very clear, because it is not aged in wooden barrels, and has about 40% alcohol by volume. This is typical strength for hard liquor. Just from the smell I could tell that the Firewater was much like vodka with probably very little flavor.
After a presentation on coconut palm wine we gathered around a palm tree to watch one of the workers climb one to show how they get the juice collection bottles in place. They have and oval shaped belt made from wood and vines that they fasten around the trunk of the tree and shimmy up the trunk using this belt like a lineman's harness. It's a very efficient system but our guide says many of them are hurt because they don't maintain the belt as they should and it breaks while they are climbing.
Our next destination was lunch on the beach. It was about a half hour drive to the lunch spot, the Laybato Sunrise Beach Bar. I know the name conjures up some pretty romantic pictures but since it faces west over the Atlantic Ocean the odds of seeing a sunrise are pretty slim indeed. It was however on the beach and a bar. The beach was very nice and they had small patios covered by thatched roofs set up with tables and chairs. We all sat down to enjoy the breeze and look at the ocean. Soon a waiter approached to ask about drinks, Diana had a Coke and, since they didn't have any Diet Coke, I ordered a local beer, JulBrew. The picture on the label was a white kingfisher and it reminded me that the first white one I'd ever seen was on my last visit here three years ago. The beer was a light lager and had a nice beery taste and a little bitter aftertaste. Not bad at all.
The lunch was served buffet style and the bar's owner was behind the serving table. They had rice, vegetable curry, chicken and barracuda. The rice was rice and the chicken was chicken, nothing special but good. The vegetable curry was great and the barracuda was outstanding. The meat and potatoes people among us really missed out on this lunch. Some of them tried the curry and complained that it was 'too hot'. Yikes, it was barely even warm; just a little tingle to let you know it was Indian style yellow curry.
After lunch Diana and I searched the inter-tidal zone for shells and found a few shells. The tide was going out and it was obvious that there are some animals, probably shellfish, living under the sand here. Their breathing holes were evident sometimes in impressive clusters. It was nice to just walk up and down the beach to let lunch settle.
Our next stop was at a cultural museum and park. They had a recreation of a traditional native Gambian village compound. All the elements of the modern compound were there but the men, women and children all had separate huts.
They had traditional weaving and metal work demonstrations. Both were very interesting. Rather than have the weft on a roll at the back of the loom they stretch it out from the loom and tie it to piece of wood with some heavy rocks on it that slides toward the loom as he weaves. This keeps tension on the stings as he passes the shuttle through them.
After the cultural park we started back to the ship. In about 20 minutes we transitioned from dirt road back to the two lane black top road that runs the length of the country. We turned west and drove all the way to the port on fairly smooth surface. On the way we went through one of only two intersections to have traffic signals. Of course it was red so we had to stop. On the way we went through some larger towns and saw some bigger stores. Still didn't see any USA chain stores, food or otherwise. On the outskirts of Banjul we went through a very prosperous looking area. Large neat, almost western style homes with nicely manicured yards and some swimming pools. The guide says these are the homes of people who have family members that work in the USA or Europe.
Our guide had warned us not to photograph police stations, government installations or roadside security checkpoints. As we approached one of these checkpoints we noticed one of our trucks pulled over to the side. Our guide stopped and talked to their driver and he said that one of the passengers had taken a picture of the checkpoint and they had been stopped
Now we have two days at sea and I'm ready for them.
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