Blogs from Western Division, Gambia, Africa - page 5

Hei igjen, vi er fremdeles i Kololi i Gambia, og har som vanlig noe aa fortelle dere. Ikke det at vi har begitt oss ut paa store eventyr, de siste dagene har vaert ganske slappe, med soling og bassengbading som hovedaktiviteter. Men i gaar var vi paa utflukt til Bakau, som bare er noen minutter unna. Dit dro vi med Live, og vi besoekte noen venner av henne. Ene av dem var trommelaereren hennes, som bodde i bydelen Oslo (og hvis bror har spilt tromme sammen med storheter som Youssou N'Dour og Dr. Alban). Han ble med oss ned paa stranden, der han og Live spilte litt djembe mens vi hoerte paa, saa paa krabber og gikk oss en tur til et posht hotell og drakk en alvorlig overpriset ananasjuice. Etterpaa fikk vi proevet oss paa ... read more

The Gambia synthesizes in few thousands of Km² all defects and virtues of the young independent Africa. On one hand it builds a tourism industry thanks to the callback of kilometers of white beaches and iridescent markets, on the other one, seems incapable to fulfill whichever undertaken plan, including the one of a repressive dictatorship. You get a first morsel as soon as you reach the border, arriving from Senegal. In that country, agents wear uniform and are efficient (by African standards) in carrying on their duties. On this part of the line, instead, customs officers show up in worn out uniforms lacking of identification or flatly in civilian clothes, and every encounter with those who have had the bad luck to be born white seems necessarily to be concluded with the passage of some ... read more

My title is one of Gambians' favorite sayings. It's true for them--they're very friendly. Wherever I'm walking to, it's guaranteed that at least 4 adults say "Hah-lo" or "How ah you?" as I walk past. It's too much at first, but now I'm used to it. Some days it gets annoying, but it actually is nice to connect with people, especially the ones I walk past everyday. On the other hand, random guys come up to us and ask us how our holiday is, where we're from, where we're staying, what our name is. It's best to have a made-up name and story ready for those ones. Now, kids are different. Some will say "Toubab, how ah you?" Toubab=white person. Others just yell, "Toubab!" and if I'm lucky, I'll get just a "Hallo, how ah you?" ... read more

Well, I have way too much to say in one entry, so I'll try to start from the beginning. Basically, it took us a really long time to get here, and we got very little sleep. When we got to Dakar, Senegal, it was nighttime. We stepped out of the plane. It was humid and it smelled like smoke. The ground was packed sand. Immediately, I knew I was in Africa, even though I didn't really believe it. It smelled like I thought Africa would smell. Once we got through customs was when we really realized we were in Africa. It wasn't the fact that Black people were everywhere that shocked me. It was that there were so many people everywhere trying to help you (get money) or talk to you (get money) or buy something ... read more

The Gambia is like a well-deserved oasis of communication in this Francophone desert of western Africa. One chat, bargain, order and enquire, all in English. This making The Gambia an excellent recreation point, not only for us but also for package tourism. There are massive resorts, beach erosion, widespread sex tourism and all the other paraphernalia of mass tourism. To see old, tubby, pale European women snuggling with their Gambian 25 something, paid "lovers", is not uncommon when you're down at the beach. For me this was of less interest, since the life of a Swedish relative in Africa arouse my curiosity about alternative ways of life. After numerous plastic bags with iced fruit drinks (Baobab, Hibiscus, Ginger and Tamarind are a few in the odd variety) we left the ferry taking us across the Gambia ... read more