The hotel is quick to rustle up a mosquito net this morning and promises to spray the room, although this begs the question: why did we even have to ask? Christi and I came to The Gambia on a whim. We had a few days to kill while Sheldon Cooper completes a pre-arranged trip to the Cape Verde Islands. We’ve agreed to meet him in Saint Louis in 5 days and continue overland to the border town of Rosso where Ahmed the Finger will meet us and guide us through Mauritania. Christi and I chose to collect another country rather than stay in Dakar. Now that we’re in Fajara in The Gambia we have no idea what to do or how to get back to Saint Louis. Christi and I had had the romantic notion of taking a boat cruise up The Gambia River (our cruises through the Galapagos Islands and Tierra del Fuego and then down the Amazon River had somewhat convinced us that we liked atypical boat trips). Even though The Gambia is tiny we realistically don’t have time or indeed the money to do this type of journey and get to Saint Louis in the required time, although to be honest neither Christi or I can bear the thought of 1.5 days in a various forms of unpleasant public transport to get from Fajara to Saint Louis. So we’re stuck and now we have to extricate ourselves from the mess we’ve created.
Turns out that’s easier said than done. Fajara, indeed, the whole country shuts down for one Saturday morning a month for National Cleaning Day. And that day, unfortunately, is today. Supposedly, all the trash is removed from the streets. Supposedly. Businesses see little point in opening for a few hours in the afternoon so Fajara is largely deserted for the whole day. Therefore gaining any information that might help get to Saint Louis and explore something of The Gambia in the time we have available to us is virtually impossible to come by. We walk along the main drag, Kairaba Avenue, in ferocious heat staring at a lot of closed doors. We do manage eventually to take D4,000 (US$150) out of an ATM at Standard Chartered bank and identify potentially useful shops if they ever open. Tired, hungry, and grumpy we find lunch at a reasonably pleasant restaurant called Franciscos, which is an expat hang-out that is showing live English soccer. This cheers me up no end.
Later in the afternoon we do find a travel agency that is open and inquire about flights to Saint Louis. There are precisely zero. How can this be when Saint Louis is the second city of Senegal? We can get a flight to Dakar on Wednesday afternoon for US$190pp, but then we’d never make it to Saint Louis in time to meet Sheldon Cooper. We retire to an internet cafe and confirm no flights exists to Saint Louis. Christi then has the brilliant idea of flying to Nouakchott, capital of Mauritania, directly and there is a flight on Tuesday with Air Mauritania. Sod’s law we can’t book this flight online so we race back to the travel agents which is now closed until Monday morning.
Dejected we return to our hotel and organize a tour of the area for tomorrow. We know we’re being ripped off on the price, but we have no other option if we actually want to see anything of this country in a short space of time. Our hotel is right on the beach and we decide to go for a relaxing walk. No such luck. Although the beach is quite fetching with its golden sand, palm trees, and cafes (including one named Kunta Kinteh – more on that story in a couple of days), the peddlers and hawkers that bothered us in Fajara during the day have multiplied and taken over the beach. We are pestered continually. It is nothing like the peaceful experience of Brenu beach in Ghana. So far The Gambia has been an unpleasant hassle.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of broken hearts and broken test tubes.
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