When I was in Africa...

I have grown up hearing the phrase ‘when I was in Africa’ before my dad reeled off one of his amazing stories about the time he lived in Africa, The Gambia to be more specific. You’re probably either questioning why on earth he was there or wondering where on earth The Gambia is. The answers are simple. He worked in development for VSO and ActionAid in 1988 – 1992 and The Gambia is a tiny country located in West Africa which is nearly completely surrounded by Senegal.

I was finally given the opportunity to go in 2019. So, here is my story of when I was in Africa…

Entering Africa is like a sensory overload, there’s new sounds, smells, tastes and sights. Every time I have been to Africa, I have experienced this rush of senses, entering The Gambia was no different!

As we landed, it was quite surprising to see the city fully lit up as previously the electricity had not been on 24/7 but we were informed that it was recently changed. The airport itself is very different compared to most airports I have been to, it had short lines in immigration and a security checkpoint after the baggage reclaim. If it’s one thing I’ve noticed about us British people, is that we love to queue and we are excellent at it! It’s clear to say that the African version of queueing is very different as I compared the neat, orderly line for the ‘other travellers’ immigration line to the chaotic free-for-all that was the ‘Gambian residents’ immigration line. The airport is also strange as it has an unusually long runway compared to the size of the airport and considering they have less than ten flights a day. This is because it was one of the emergency runways for the space shuttle from 1980s which makes it one of Africa longest runways!

As we travelled from the airport to our accommodation, we drove through the city of Banjul, we experienced this sensory overload previously mentioned, the smell of exhaust fumes and burning charcoal filled the car. Even though it was a Tuesday night there was music blasting from the buildings that lined the road and plenty of people stood about talking and waiting for taxis.

Our accommodation was located in a quiet part of town surrounded by dirt roads and tropical trees. To our delight, our friend had cooked us some delicious ‘Sato’ which is a dish similar to rice pudding. There wasn’t a need for an alarm the next morning as we were woken up by the Iman’s call to prayer, dogs barking and a cockerel shrieking at 5am.

By 10am we were sat on the beach soaking up the hot Gambia sun, listening to the waves and breathing in the clean sea air. The appropriately named paradise beach was certainly paradise with its long sandy beaches and large palm trees. We lazed around talking to the locals and practicing my Mandinka where I could. A few hours and a bad case of sunburn later, we decided to head back to the accommodation for some lunch. For lunch we decided to have ‘Benechin’ which is a very flavoursome dish that contains meats and vegetables. A morning in the hot Gambian sun and a hefty lunch meant that I spent the rest of the day napping and constantly applying aloe vera to my scorched skin.

Later in the evening, we met with our friends and had tea at their house. We had bought the boys a football to play with and they spent nearly the entire evening kicking it about outside! Meanwhile us ‘grown ups’ sat inside and talked for hours, Dad reminisced about his time in The Gambia in 1988 and how different it is now. The biggest difference for him was seeing how much the city of Banjul had developed to accommodate for the increasing volume of tourists. The beautiful paradise beach we visited earlier on in the day had previously been a quiet remote beach with one restaurant, whereas now it is packed full of tourists, hotels and restaurants. In some ways it was sad to see that once a ‘hidden gem’ was now one of the country’s most commonly visited beaches, but the increasing number of tourists has boosted the economy massively. It has brought jobs and money to the country, so it’s certainly not a negative!

We got up nice and early as we were planning on heading to Kerewan. One notable thing about The Gambia, and most of Africa in general, is that they work on a much more laid-back lifestyle and therefore everything is often a little bit late. In The Gambia we call this ‘GMT’, Gambian Maybe Time. We were picked up eventually and taken to the iconic Banjul ferry. On route we even passed a dead body in the back of a police car, rather unsettling if you ask me!

The ferry terminal was busy, and when I say it was busy, I mean it was BUSY! There was barely room to move around among the people, farm animals, trolleys of goods and vehicles. The only way I can describe it is as the ferry version of those Indian trains with people piled on the top and hanging off the side. It was completely chaotic with car horns sounding and people shouting as everyone tried to rush on to the ferry. One of the gates were opened at the terminal and a massive flood of people roared through, the sound of sandals smacking against the dusty concrete floor was deafening.

The ride from Banjul to Barra was unbearably warm until we were facing the wind, when the temperature seemed to settle to something more reasonable. Upon arriving at the North Bank, I suddenly had a rush of sea sickness, which led me to find myself in a tiny toilet at the back of a police station with no lights, no toilet paper and a door that could only be locked from the outside.

The next hour was spent driving to Kerewan, which I spent every ounce of concentration on not being sick. Upon arrival, I darted to the toilets to empty out my stomach - too much information maybe? After I turned back to my sunburnt self from the disturbing green colour I had turned earlier, I managed to stomach some stew and rice.

Back in 1988, my dad lived here working as a teacher in the local secondary school. The family of the compound he lived on became his family as they welcomed him with open arms. The children he taught were now adults and everyone could still remember him! It was a wonderful experience to be part of this reunion. We were greeted immediately by a large group of children who were chanting ‘Tubab’, which means ‘white person’ in Mandinka. They all wanted to shake our hands and introduce themselves but it was very hard to keep track of who was who as they wouldn’t stay still long enough! We found ourselves in one of the houses where the women were cleaning and organising the days harvest ready for the market the next morning. Laughter and the smell of spring onions filled the air as they reminisced about what life when my dad lived here.

The residents of the compound love photos and love having their photo taken. I ended up being surrounded by a parade of children begging to have their photo taken. They all wanted to be at the front so taking a good one was very difficult. The boys eventually got bored and wandered off but I had two little girls who followed me everywhere. They plaited my hair in exchange for me reading out one of their books. The book was in English and they didn’t know what I was saying but I managed to teach them a few phrases along the way. The girls were called inside so I joined dad on a walk to the secondary school where he once worked as a metalwork and woodwork teacher. We visited his old classroom and were surprised to see that nothing had changed. The classrooms are open and airy, perfect for the hot school days! After speaking to the pupils and teachers, we managed to find all his old woodworking benches that he had brought and installed over 30 years ago, that were still being used today.

We headed to our accommodation shortly after so we could have a shower and a nap. Our accommodation was a small hunting camp with little cabins which was owned by a French guy, run by Senegalese men but was still located in The Gambia... It was lovely to finally have a proper shower after 3 hot and sweaty days of bucket baths. For tea, we headed back to Kerewan to have food on the compound with the family. One thing really special about secluded places like rural Africa is that the nights sky has no air pollution, which means that you can see the Milky Way! I only recall seeing this once before, which was when I was half-way up Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It is a beautiful sight to be seen and despite how hard you may try, a photo will never be able to show the true picture. You’ve got to see it to believe it! Upon arrival, we were ushered into one of the houses for some tea which included, fish, potatoes, lettuce and bread. Other than the laughter and chatter of the meal, the only sounds that could be heard were the crickets chirping - another level of relaxation.

We had breakfast at the compound in Kerewan before setting off on our long drive to Dobong Kunda, a small village further East. Goodbyes are always emotional. We had a long chat with the ladies of the compound where they invited me to stay with them. It was unbelievable that even after only knowing them a matter of days, that they would say this! They said we were welcome to come back at any time, not as guests, but as part of their family. After a lot of crying and hugging, it was time for us to continue our adventure...

Two hours of driving later, we arrived at another ferry terminal. This one was a lot smaller as the River Gambia was only a few kilometres wide at this point so the ferry could get across quickly. At the other side of the river was the bustling town of Georgetown. The town is situated on an island but at the other side, the river isn’t very wide so they were able to construct a bridge across it. The Janjanbureh island has a dark history of being part of the slave trade. But now the city is a busy trading post for groundnuts, cotton, Shea butter, textile, food and gunpowder.

Janjanbureh island is also home to one of The Gambia’s best boarding schools, Armitage High School. The vice principal invited us in to have a look around, showing us the various classrooms, the dormitories and the assembly hall. After leaving Janjanbureh Island, we went straight to Dobong Kunda on another lengthy drive. Upon arrival, the Al Carlo came to greet us, along with a group of curious children. We set underneath the Bowbab Tree and talked to the Al Carlo as more and more people came out to greet us. The Al Carlo of a village is the person in charge, it is a role that is passed down through the generations rather than being elected.

On my dad’s previous trip to The Gambia, he had met another man called Paul who was actually named after him! My dad had built a seed store in Dobong Kunda in 1991, which was the first of 36 seed stores that he would build whilst working for Action Aid. Unfortunately Gambian Paul wasn’t at home when we visited, but his wife made us feel very welcome. She brought us food and invited us into her house, something that wouldn’t often happen in the UK with someone you’ve never met! The Gambian culture of hospitality is fantastic and it makes everywhere feel like home. Our lunch was domoda, which is a spicy dish with peanuts and rice, possibly my favourite meal of the trip so far!

It was easy to find Dad whenever we got separated as I just had to follow the sounds of children shouting ‘Tubab’ until I found him. The origin of the name is widely debated but for the children, it is just their word for ‘white person’. We spent the day talking to the local residents of Dobong Kunda until it was getting late, when we said our emotional goodbye’s and headed to our accommodation in Bansang.

It was a hard goodbye as these people had given us so much love in such a short space of time. We found that it is often the people who have the least that give the most. These people who had limited food were willing to cook us enormous meals. At one point, a little girl curtseyed when introducing herself to me, I was speechless. The only emotion I could pinpoint to describe that moment was ‘humbled’. It made me think back to all the times back home where I had complained about the most insignificant issues and how none of it really mattered. These children had no Xbox’s, no phones, no electronics at all! They played with old bicycle tyres, plastic pipes, torn up books and random pieces of plastic, yet they seemed so much happier than the children back home, which really does make you think, who’s got it right?

We spent our evening in Bansang in a little bar by the river as we watched the stars and listened to the crickets chirping. After a while, we decided to grab some food on our way back to the accommodation. We had a sort of ‘bread and omelette sandwich’, which was very tasty and certainly filled us up!

Nothing is better than being woken up in the middle of the night to a power cut - obvious sarcasm there. Now in the UK, a power cut isn’t that horrendous and usually only lasts a matter of minutes. This power cut lasted 8 hours and meant that there was no air conditioning and no fans to keep us cool. Therefore, it was a very uncomfortable night’s sleep as I felt myself baking in the hot African temperatures.

Needless to say, the morning started on a high as we were brought some hot Sato for breakfast, which we ate quickly before having a little explore of Bansang before we had to head back to the coast.

Bansang is home to one of The Gambia’s ‘Pull Ferries’ which is a small ferry which is moved back and forth across the river on a pulley system. As we parked the car, Dad noticed someone that he recognised, and not for the right reasons. He had visited Bansang the year previous and they were driving a pretty unreliable car which kept cutting out and not starting again. They decided it was best to leave it running while they nipped into one of the shops, only a couple of meters from the car. Out of nowhere, a man came and started furiously cleaning the car, then hopped into the drivers seat and tried to start the ignition, without realising that the engine was already on! This sent the car screeching which alerted my dad and his friends who came out and scared the guy away. This time, the guy was furiously washing the car whilst we were sat in it, yanking at the windscreen wipers and spilling water everywhere. We quickly reversed with this guy chasing us with his 5 gallon bottle of water. Fortunately, we managed to lose him and we found a safer place to park...

After the trauma of the second altercation with the ‘mad-man’, dad decided it was time to leave Bansang, but not before visiting his old house. We walked down the Main Street until we were nearly out of the town, when he spotted a familiar looking house on the edge of the rice fields. The house is now a compound which has three families in it.

As we spoke to the woman who now owned the house, Dad told her the story of how someone had tried to curse him using black magic at the house. This ‘someone’ had gone all the way to Mauritania to buy a juju, which is essentially meant to curse someone. However, the thing about black magic is that it doesn’t affect you unless you believe it! So when dad discovered it, he simply picked it up and launched it into the rice fields, never to be seen again!

It was nice to get back to our car and see it hadn’t been vandalised or unnecessarily cleaned. So, we set off on our long journey back to Banjul. The journey was rather uneventful until we came to the Senegalese border where a man asked for Dad’s passport, then simply walked off with it and didn’t come back. Our friend went to find this man and had a bit of an argument before coming back with the passport in hand. I don’t know why they wanted to keep it, I don’t think many Gambian’s look like him so it would be hard to use it for fraud!

As we passed through one of the towns on the way to Banjul, we came across a strange scene. There was a group of boys playing instruments as a man in a ‘Fangbondi’ was dancing around in the street. The Fangbondi is a circumcision mask which is made from the bark of a Fara Tree. He was holding a cutlass which at one point, he held to someone’s throat who was sitting in a car. We immediately closed all the windows and locked the doors before driving off. Our friend explained that before a boy is circumcised, they have a festival with these outfits and masks. Considering it was meant to be a celebratory festival, the Fangbondi mask was absolutely terrifying...

Hours later, we arrived back in Banjul! The coastal city is a lot cooler than the hot temperatures of the inland villages. This is because Banjul gets the cool wind from the Atlantic Ocean, whereas further inland, the wind comes straight from the Sahara desert. The wind inland feels like someone is holding a hair dryer next to your face, so it felt great to be back in a nicer temperature on the coast.

We headed back to paradise beach after a quick bucket bath to embrace the beautiful sunset and make the most of the free Wi-Fi, which we had been deprived of since Wednesday. The beach was completely empty of tourists, instead the local Gambian boys were playing football. We watched the sunset before walking back towards our accommodation but not before stopping for something to eat at one of the restaurants. This was the first time this trip that we had eaten in a restaurant and after enduring 43 degree heat out in Bansang, we felt it was well deserved.

We didn’t need to get up and rush around as we had the previous days, so we enjoyed a lie in before going to the shops for bread and eggs for our breakfast.

At lunch time we separated so I could meet with my friend and dad could go to the beach by himself. We went to the Kachikally Crocodile Pool where we were able to watch and even touch the crocodiles. I was convinced that they were fake at first as the staff seemed so calm about people touching the crocodiles, but suddenly one of them started moving! The guide told us that we didn’t need to worry about them eating us as ‘they eat fish, not ladies’ - phew! He also explained to us that the crocodiles are not aggressive unless they think their babies are under threat, but that is the only circumstance that they would attack a human. The pool is home to hundreds of crocodiles, most of which were hidden under the weather but there were still plenty of them laid in the sun around the banks for the visitors to touch.

For lunch, we went to the Ningki Nangka which is a lovely restaurant right next to the beach. We talked for hours as we listened to the waves and walked along in the sun. The waiter explained to me that the name Ningki Nangka is the Mandinka word for ‘Dragon’, which is what the restaurant is named after.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and socialising as we visited QCity and Paradise Beach to watch the sunset.

We started the morning off by going to Paradise Beach for a couple of hours to top-up my sun burn before heading to Kartong. One of my favourite things about the beach is that there are horses which stroll along every so often. I managed to make friends with a young horse - I think it was convinced I had food. Even as we started to walk up the beach back to the road, this little horse followed me! (Un)fortunately the guy who owned them called it back before we could claim him as our own and bring him back to the accommodation.

On our way to Kartong we stopped near Old Yundum to meet some friends for lunch. They had cooked us some fish benechin which was fantastic! The people of The Gambia have a different eating culture to the people of the UK as they don’t usually use cutlery and they all share from the same bowl. We opted to use spoons but still all share from the same bowl! Even when you are finished eating, the families insist that you eat more, even though they give you gigantic portions!

Eventually, we arrived in Kartong, which is a village next to the Senegalese border. Our first stop was at the river where you can cross it on a canoe to get to Senegal! We found a guy and asked him if he could take us across and back, he agreed to it and next thing we were piled into a tiny wooden canoe and shoved out into the river before the guy hopped back onto the boat and rowed for us. The immigration officers were even kind enough to stamp our passports despite us not even being in the country for half an hour! We had a little walk around and a chat to the locals before hopping back on the boat back to The Gambia. Our friend came with us and we discovered that he couldn’t swim so he spent the journey gripping onto the canoe for dear life, even though the river was barely 30 meters wide and not very deep!

To our friends’ relief, we were off the boat and back onto dry land in no time! We got back in the car and headed to the beach to watch the sunset. Kartong beach is extremely remote and completely empty of tourists! But it does have an eyesore, a Chinese fish canning factory! You are probably thinking why on earth is there a Chinese fish canning factory in the middle of nowhere, in The Gambia? It was a build that was highly controversial due to the fact that the increased demand for fish in the area meant that the locals themselves found it more difficult to catch fish to feed their families with. The people who work at the factory are Senegalese and aren’t impacted by the lack of fish in the area as they live further up the coast than the locals of Kartong. The factory was only agreed to be built as the Chinese promised to improve infrastructure within the country, but at the expense of the village of Kartong. The canned fish is eventually shipped to China where it is used as pig food, not even human food, which is the worst part for me!

Moving on from the ugly factory, our final stop was in the village of Kartong itself where Dad was on a mission to find one of his old friends from 1988. Unfortunately we discovered that he was out hunting and wouldn’t be back in time to see us. Instead, Dad wandered off talking to his eldest son while I entertained the younger children. We danced around and talked until it was time to go. It was heart-breaking as we left, as they all chased the car shouting ‘come back’ and ‘please stay’! It’s crazy how much of an impact you can have to the children out here, I’m sure that half of the children in England aren’t as grateful and kind hearted as these wonderful Gambian children.

As we arrived back in Banjul, we decided to have tea in the Senegambia, which is a crazy touristy part of town. It is the place where all the hotels, bars and restaurants are located. The place was swarming with English people and if it hadn’t have been for the hot weather, I may have mistaken it for an English city! We ate at a random restaurant which was packed with retired English folk, I think I was the youngest person there! However as we walked around I did notice a few other girls my age, one thing I did find rather strange was that the girls were wearing shorts. Now I understand that the hot weather makes you want to wear shorts but in the Gambian culture it is considered not appropriate to wear it. The only exceptions are at the beaches! I made it a rule to wear trousers throughout my trip to respect the people and their culture. In Banjul, it isn’t too bad but in the rural villages it would be highly inappropriate to wear shorts.

Just a quick tip for travelling in most African countries, don’t wear shorts - I found it the same in Tanzania!

We spent our final day at the beach, watching the waves and attempting to get that desirable holiday tan. After a few hours of reading, I decided that I needed something to do to stretch my legs a bit so I spoke to one of the local horsemen and they let me ride their horse.

The horse I rode was called ‘Obama’. If you couldn’t tell from my Instagram, I’m mad into horse riding! Usually, the other visitors only walk on lead rein up and down the beach, but I assured the man that I was quite competent, so he let me go off on my own. We galloped for miles down the open beaches, through the busier touristy beaches right to the secluded empty ones. The cold sea water slashed up onto me as we went which did a massive favour in cooling me down! I returned a while later to Paradise Beach where I said my goodbyes to Obama and went to admire the horrific sunburn I had just endured. We watched the sunset for the last time before walking back to our accommodation. We were closely followed by a little foal who enjoyed running through the waves as much as we did!

Leaving The Gambia was a lot different to leaving other places. I had gained new friends and finally met people that considered me to be part of their family. It was a sense of belonging that you don’t get from a typical city break or touristy holiday. When I say I didn’t want to leave, I really didn’t. I wanted to stay and live out my years in a simpler place where the modern-day stresses are irrelevant.

Seeing people who have very little but give so much is life changing. It puts a lot of things into perspective for me and I’m sure anyone who visits rural Africa will feel the same. Strangely, these tiny villages that I spent only a few days in felt like home more than places I had spent months in. I finally understood why my Dad stayed here so long and why he found it so difficult when he had to leave.

I had heard the famous stories of The Gambia since I can remember and finally visiting these places was satisfying in a way. As much as people said I was ‘following in my dad’s footsteps’, I’d like to think that I made my own along the way.

So, ladies and gentlemen, that is the story of when I was in Africa...