The Gambia

Approaching Banjul in a heavy haze, we see a few pirogues out in the deep-water channel. We have to skirt an extensive sandbank, a shallows that parallels the beaches before we can swing into the pier and disembark. The pirogues look to be about 30 feet long, some with a half-round shelter toward the aft. They each have at least a half dozen people on them. Are they fishing? Are they going to Barra across the river? The pirogue has a very interesting construction. The base is the hollowed out trunk of a kapok tree. The spongy wood is left out in the rainy season to absorb water, sometimes for as long as 8 months after which it can be beaten straight to form the base of the boat. The sides are built up with other harder planks which are coated with tar. When the boat reaches the end of it s life the base can be reused several more times.
The first thing you see on the Banjul skyline is the “Arch22” built to commemorate the 1994 coup that put Yahya Jammeh in power. Nearby are the two minarets from the Jammeh/Saud Mosque. As we swing into the pier we can see the beaches and fishing pirogues. Next to our pier is the ferryboat landing. They go up and down the coast and across to Barra. They are so completely loaded when they leave all that comes to mind are stories of ferry disasters. I won’t be taking one.
Our tour starts with the aforementioned mosque. It is not particularly impressive and like just about every building we have seen it looks more like a movie set construction. There is no attention to detail, no architectural flair; it looks like it was done on the cheap. The same goes for the Arch. It could have been impressive; four gigantic Ionic columns support the massive peaked roof. But when you get up close it looks like it is covered with thick, cheap yellow paint with sand mixed in. The city is very poor; it is criss-crossed with open sewer ditches and rubble everywhere. We are told that much of the commerce is leaving Banjul for Serekunda in the middle of the island.
Our next stop is the Kachikaly Crocodile Pool. This is a “holy” place, which has been given over to the tourist trade. Barren women would come here to pray and perhaps pet the crocodiles who are kept lazy and overfed so they will put up with people posing with them. I wonder if it actually was once holy or if a clever tourism official thought that instilling it with this animist legend would make it more appealing. The crocodile is said to be a fertility agent and apparently has had some success. There are many children in Bakau Village named Kachikaly. It’s not easy to get to either. The tour busses are too big to get down the narrow streets so we stopped in downtown Bakau and walked for about ten minutes to the sight. It was my favorite part of the tour. Apparently cruise ships don’t dock here very often so the marketing potential brings everyone out of the woodwork. And they all dress in their best. I could not find a single CD store!!!
From Bakau we headed into Serekunda, bigger than Banjul, it doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Located smack dab in the middle of the island, they did have an upscale neighborhood where the wealthy and near-wealthy live in nicer homes and have better shopping. We went to what was billed as a batik factory that turned out to be a compound of homes and stalls selling batiks, jewelry and carvings. Our tour guide, Dou-Doo must have had an interest there. The last stop was the National Museum in Banjul which should be shut down as an embarrassment. Perhaps I am being a little callous. The municipality apparently has very little resources, so, maintaining this collection of memorabilia is probably well down on the list of priorities. Still they would be better off storing the exhibits until the time when they could display them properly, especially the dress worn by Miss Gambia in 1984.
We returned to the ship and a crafts market appeared at the gangplank. Simon, the tech guy on the ship said he watched at the gate after all the tours left and the merchants showed up, paid the gate guard some baksheesh [bribe] and were let in. I succumbed and bought 3 African-style batik shirts. They probably won’t fit. If they do they will then shrink with the first washing and there goes my … it wasn’t a lot, really. I know how to barter, really.
We left the port at about 4:30 and headed for Dakar. Nothing looks particularly interesting on the entertainment front this evening so I guess it’s beddy-bye time for Mikey.