We arrived in Senegal! After spending several hours crossing the border (we have to learn how to not let anyone cut in front of us…), we drove straight to the Zebra Bar, which feels like an oasis of shady beachfront rest. There, however, we discovered that the SIM cards we bought at the border stopped working. So, the next morning we made our way to nearby St. Louis, which btw is the oldest capital in Africa, with a French colonial old town center. After a long wait at the Orange office we hope to have a properly functioning SIM card.
While in the historic center, we went for a bland but very slow food lunch, stopped by a well stocked supermarket that played happy music, and walked past the fishing fleet before returning to our cool waterfront spot.
The lagune in front of the Zebra bar has quiet waters, but one can see and hear the ocean waves crashing on the island’s beach. We took a boatride, from where we saw many fishing boats stretching their nets across the width of the laguna. Big white pelicans and black cormorants were waiting for a chance to steal a fish or two. On the way back, the boat deposited us for a walk on the island’s beach. Here we watched the waves wrestling with the strong tidal current making its way out of the laguna. A fellow camper loaded with a day pack, playfully chasing a crab into the surf, almost succumbed to the waves, phone in hand…good thing that he, as an overland traveler on bicycle, was in good physical condition. Although we could not overlook the amount of plastic trash, we enjoyed the variety of birds, the mangrove replanting, and the overall feel of being on the water.
On our way to Dakar, we saw an increasing amount of baobab trees. Boababs have a special place in my memory: during our first trip through Africa I fell in love with them, but somehow never got a good photograph of any. So now, when we saw this accessible gathering of baobabs, we had to spend some time with them.
We had a nice and relaxing morning ride, but driving into Dakar was outrageous! We needed to revisit an Orange (mobile phone) office on the south side of Dakar, and I made the mistake of choosing the southern route into the city. BIG MISTAKE: we got stuck in traffic with an endless chaotic line of big trucks – many of them broken down and stuck on the pavement. The last twenty km – half an hour’s drive, according to Google – took us about five hours. Still about four km away, we decided to look for a place to park for the night and got stuck in another hopeless congestion. That one kilometer to the beach hotel still took half an hour. But here we found a little oasis of rest with a pretty little beach. The place was run down, which made me guess it was here first, before the port surrounded it.
We needed to extend our 10 day passavant Dakar, in order to drive our camper around Senegal for another 14 days, but being the weekend, we had to stay in here until Monday, when the government offices would open again. On Saturday we decided to take a taxi to Dakar proper, where we could buy new GBs of data for our phones, and take the ferry to the Unesco World Heritage site of Goree Island. Back in the days, thousands of African were held there before getting shipped off to the New World. On the island we found a good looking colonial settlement: the island has been occupied by many old colonial countries, like the Portuguese, Dutch, French, and English. Now a tourist attraction, we first wandered the streets after a nice lunch. Then we immersed ourselves in the dark side of the place: a visit to the slave house. One is first guided through a house across the street, where the gloomy facts and data are well displayed. When we entered the actual slave house, luck had it that a public explanation took place in the center court. We heard the painful details, like how families were separated to be sent to different parts of the Americas, and when an infectious disease would break out, all slaves would be thrown in the sea…Too many details to mention. Most of you will know about the door of no return. It is here.
On Sunday we expected the Dakar traffic to be a little lighter, so we drove our camper out of the port area and explored the other side of the peninsula. We stopped at Ngor Beach, overlooking the bay and Ngor island. Although the water was blue- with floating plastic, we enjoyed an excellent lunch. We stayed at the parking lot for the night.
Early next morning we parked the camper closer to the customs office, where we were forced to accept our passavant extension for more ransom money. Then we left the city as soon as we could, avoiding the congested southside. However, the goodlooking northside boulevard ended up in a sand track through old neighborhood alleys, and we almost got stuck in the sand trying to avoid oncoming cars. Only after ignoring Google Maps we found our way out and on a main connecting road, which still meandered through busy neighborhoods before we reached the perfect toll road, which soon brought us to a beach town, where we thought we’d chosen a nice, laidback oceanside camping. It turned out to be an old rundown farm without facilities except a fenced in parking, but with a decent little waterside restaurant across the street. Good enough for one day.
After one night, we did not care much for our coastal location: the camping was just a fenced farm, where nothing resembled the pros of a camping: no toilets or showers except really gross ones, and no electric connection or the promised strong WIFI. I did have some fun with the turkeys, who immediately reacted when I imitated their call. The caged monkeys and (I’ve been told) other chained exotic animals there, disgusted me. The town had an outlandish feel with numerous western tourists emerging from gated hotels with private beaches. So we left, driving south towards the Gambian border. When we stopped for lunch near a water well, we could see a boy pulling up many twenty liter water buckets. What a workout at 38° heat!
We arrived at a village, connected across a river branch by a modern toll bridge – built by the Chinese in exchange for fishing and gold mining rights, so told by one of the locals here. Upon arrival in the village, people pointed us to “Encampement Baobab sur Mer”, where we could enjoy river views from our camper. The place provided decent bathrooms, but again, lacking electricity hookup and WIFI, as promised in the reviews. (We need to top up our batteries, and my phone is constantly reminding me that, in order to ensure my updates, it needs to be connected to WIFI!!)
We were getting tired of the Senegalese people, who would amicably join us for a casual conversation, which invariably led up to them wanting to sell us something, and since we were friends now we owed them a sale… Here, within the first hour, just enjoying an end of the day drink with a river view, we made a friend (last name Christian Dior) who wanted us to buy his overpriced African clothes, another offered jewelry, and one wanted us to support an island school by buying his trinkets. Tired, we gave in to the latter, and since I need some shirts, I also ordered something to be made by Christian Dior – though the negotiations are painful. We also committed ourselves to go look at wood carving and jewelry, and have a fish lunch at a lady’s market stall. High pressure sales going on here!
At our “Encampment” we ran into an American Peace Corps worker, who gave us some details about the town life, like the why of that awesome bridge: to accomodate ships en route to a future downriver port, where they will unload products to be trucked to Mali. Disadvantage of this bridge is its descent: regularly, overloaded trucks with bad brakes lose control and crash into buildings at the bottom of the bridge.
As we continued south, we did not want to cross the border to Gambia too soon, so we decided to make an extra stop not far from our last one. We picked Sokone, because it is located along the edge of the Fathalah wildlife preserve and Mangrove plains. There is a charming lodge/encampment there (les Calaos du Saloum), with extremely friendly owners, who apparently wanted to host us so badly, they tore down the roof above their gate, which was otherwise too low to let us in. We would have liked to stay longer, just to do them a favor and enjoy another generous and excellent meal, but it was so hot that day, that even a walk along the mangrove river at low tide was no fun.
Crossing the Senegal Gambia border was a breeze, without much corrupt pressure for money. Only at the immigration police, where we had to have our Gambian entry stamps done, they asked us for 15.000 CFA stamp- and entry-fee. When Thijs reacted surprised and replied that their own embassy had ensured us that all was free of charge, they let it go. We did not get a (ridiculous) prescription medicine search, fine or confiscation, and all police stops along the road afterwards were jovial and friendly. After the quick border crossing, we reached the Gambia river ferry before midday. We drove off the ferry at eight the next morning. Yes, it was chaos! Of three ferries present, only one was in working order. Although there was a queue, VIP cars who paid extra had priority. When lanes needed to be changed, some cars slipped in between, daring us to get our car scratched (theirs were old and dented, so who cares?) When directed to another place, three to four people were shouting and gesturing in different directions – none of them wore an official uniform – hard to know what order to follow… All together we had to wait out three ferry departures and then, after midnight, opted to spend the night at the front of the line, in order to get on the first ferry leaving in the morning. Even driving off the ferry was crazy: a yellow van overtook us at the last moment, then stopped on the off ramp to load its passengers and tetris in their luggage. But, welcome to Gambia, which feels like a Happy-Go-Lucky country. And they speak English here!
With our recent previous experiences in larger African cities, we did not feel like staying in or around the capital and left, looking for a nice beach front location, which we found in Sanyang: at an attractive place called “Eco Lodge” (in between quotes because the “eco’ part is hard to find through the trash filled entry, where cows are sniffing out delectable plastics.)
But overlooking that, there was a sense of order: landscaping with parasols and beach beds, clean bathrooms, good WIFI, and a very friendly and communicable staff. In short, we could easily stay for a few days.
During a stroll on the beach, we happened upon a circumcision ceremony. When I filmed men slapping pieces of cloth in the sea water, a red “monster” came running towards me, clashing two manchetes while howling. Just in time a guy jumped in front of me, and explained that the “Kankurang” does not allow unauthorized photography and he could have hit me with his manchetes. He explained about the circumcision of six boys, ages maybe nine months to six years, and how they had to be confronted with fear of the Kankurang, who would see to it that they’d behave well from now on…or else! These kids would stay isolated from their home (under their father’s watch) until their wounds would be healed, and I have to say, some of them looked pretty botched and infected. I don’t know why, but we were asked to have our picture made with them. I was handed the baby, who seemed to be more terrified of me than of the Kankurang. The next youngest was ok with me… Later on the Eco lodge manager told me some details, and how fearful and dangerous some of these Kankurangs can be…sometimes the whole village stays inside until the ritual is over. She also told me that in some villages female circumcision is still practiced… We really have arrived in Africa.
Tomorrow we will leave this nice place: off to explore some Gambian inland. But that is another story.