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Published: March 15th 2011
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Dear Family and Friends
So we successfully escaped the expensive hell of Gambia and the tumultuous first couple of days of our travels. Now I should mention a couple of things about Casamance so that you get some very important back ground information that will give you the full wait and appreciation for the events that will unfold below.
So Casamance is the southernmost region of Senegal, it is separated from the rest of the country by Gambia. Gambia despite its English colonists is still part of the large Wolof ethnicity, while in Casamance there are few Wolof people. The ethnic difference in Casamance, geographical distance from Dakar, and the fact that Casamance grows some of the world’s best rice has contributed to a 30 year long struggle for independence.
Apparently much of the rice from Casamances is sold to china for a trade surplus. With that surplus Senegal imports the cheapest shittiest rice that Asia can sell, a little ironic. Anywho before our last minute hasty virtually, unplanned, departure we told people we were going and asked what we should see, avoid, and be aware of.
Everyone, from my boss to the stoners selling tricks on
the streets said Casamance is dangerous DO NOT GO TO DJOULOUI, there are rebels there are they periodically kidnap people! The Canadian Embassy has issued a warning to all travelers in the region and recommends registering with the embassy about any trips there….
So the border exit that we took was the very, dreaded, much warned of, bandit ridden, media feared Djouliou. The border crossing was no problem except people kept telling us to rush since the military closes down the roads at 7 pm…. Rebels… Forgot about them. On our way the taxi had to periodically slowed down due to strategically placed logs that formed a solom course. These literal choke points were most often or not accompanied by a man in fatigues with an M16 sitting on the side of the road… Things became a bit more “interesting” when we found one of these makeshifts speed traps completely closed off. Eg we did not make it through for the 7pm curfew… Fortunately the local passengers were not going to have this. They may not have actually said this, but what I feel was conveyed to our pale wide eyed faces, “was calm down, we got this!” Thus
we sat by the taxi anxiously smoking as the three locals approached the local military delegate to convince to him upon up the road block for us. Whatever what was said, the M16 carrying soldier was persuaded. He checked our passports, took a couple of cigarettes, we got a slight dose of adrenaline we and we were on our way.
As the pictures hopefully explain the region of Casamance is mostly a river estuary thus water is quite plentiful and things are much greener and in scale to what I expected Africa to look like. We arrived at Ziegenchor at night, we found a nice typical Lonely planet place to stay and started to plan our next adventure. Again like Gambia we had no idea what to do and like Gambia, the capital, Ziegenchor is another quiet, boring city that does not have babes, beer, or beaches. But fate against was trying to thwart us. We arrived Sunday night, the next day much to our chargrin was a transit strike. The entire city was closed down and no Senegalese transport was allowed out of the city…. (insert colorful language)
So the solution that we found was to try
make like a banana and split. A rather large list of possibilities ran through our head, rent bikes, pirogue trip, go to nearby islands, see crocodiles. As we went through these possibilities each was systematically closed. We finally decided to leave regardless the cost, thus a private car from Gambia was hired for a not a ridiculous price and we were on our way to town in the south called Ousousey. This is a quiet town with a small cluster of campements, which are mix mashes between camping and resorts. Fortunately for us they are dirt cheap. While exploring the town we befriended, or were befriended some locals interested in showing us around and smoking a lot of dope. Our local guides were good guys and planted in our brains the story of a magical island hiding in the mangroves growing fields of marijuana... I was a little leary about this but Dan’s eyes lit up like headlights at the possibility of visiting a clandestine marijuana farm by pirogue(dug out canoe) was now the trips main objective.
The next day we took off for Carabane fishing village on an island of mangroves. From there we stayed with their friend
who was a local fisherman. The proceeding two days became a smoking haze that was only punctuated by pirogue trips. One of which was to this fabled island that grew green gold. Now, I am not completely sure about it, but I have the feeling that the rebels have some kind of hand in on this, as the field we saw was not especially concealed as the villages economy was built around it. We had the opportunity to talk to locals, drink some tea with them while the processed the crop. It was an odd experience to see such a domestic rural activity surrounding such an illegal drug.
The looming question of how this place and others were not stopped by the authorities was that back in Carabane we were informed that the military inspector responsible for enforcing Senegal’s strong stance on anti-drugs was one of the islands most avid consumers… On the third day we realized that we had to get going, not that we were spending too much money, quite on the contrary we were spending almost nothing, rather our brains needed a break from the relentless marathon of joints that each day consisted of. Off we
went to Casamance’s tourist mecca known as Cap Skirring.
The last leg of our journey will be the next installement.
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anonymous
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Your mother would have said don't go to DJOULOUI, but no you didn't tell her!! Glad you had wonderful local people with you who had your back (thanks where ever you guys are!). Looks like you had fun, not sure about the Happiness Island though. Love frå din mør.