My 3-ish weeks in Gambia seemed to fly by. I can’t believe I’ve already left and I’m writing this from a café in the gentle heart of Lisbon. I already miss Gambia so much and I know I’ll be back soon. They say time flies when you’re having fun, but time really flies when you’re having fun and you have no idea what kind of chaos you’ll be met with at any given moment. That’s one way to summarise my time in Gambia.
By my second week I had already established a routine. Some days I would wake up early, follow my mum to her restaurant in Serrekunda market, and set up a little work station there. Other days I would go to Solomon Restaurant on Kololi beach and work there for hours. Trying to work remotely in a public place wasn’t easy. As a tourist, or ‘toubab,’ a term used generally for US and European tourists, I attracted a lot of unsolicited attention. If it wasn’t someone trying to sell me something, it was someone trying to flirt with or ‘befriend’ me.
I want to say it was a great confidence boost attracting so much attention in Gambia but most of the time it wasn’t. As a predominantly Muslim country, most women dress somewhat moderately. It’s not common to see my style of dressing- shorts, cropped tank tops, blouses that showcase my cleavage, and backless dresses. My revealing outfits were no attempt to entice anyone and were only my way of managing the heat. They’re also the majority of the clothing I packed as someone coming from a place where people don’t really judge revealing clothing. Still, every woman knows when she wears something revealing, she can expect a few glances. In Gambia, people glanced, stared, and sometimes men catcalled. I’m usually a confident dresser, but this was too much. I don’t like a lot of attention so this is something I struggled to get used to.
The times that I did enjoy attention as the half-naked toubab I was, was really nice. It felt good to have people, especially men I found attractive, smile at me, approach me (appropriately) and tell me I’m beautiful. This is something I rarely get to experience in the London dating scene and I have to admit, my ego needed it. Being a black woman in the UK sometimes means being overlooked and under-appreciated. In Africa, I felt reminded of my beauty and worthy of being pursued. I didn’t need to wear my best clothes, a full face of make-up or perfectly installed wig. I didn’t have to work hard to feel beautiful in Gambia and I’ll always appreciate that.
One of the best experiences I had was visiting Kachikally Musuem and Crocodile Pool and the end of my second week. I hired a driver to take me from Brufut to Bakau and then to to Serrekunda to meet my mum when I was done. On arrival, he sauntered after me into the museum even though I advised him to meet me later or wait in the car if he preferred. I was surprised when he liased with the staff in Wolof on my behalf and even more surprised when I was handed two tickets instead of one. I rolled my eyes, too eager to explore the museum and meet the crocodiles to argue.
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The museum was a beautiful set of white huts, each with a fascinating curation of Gambian artifacts, photographs and artwork. I tried to enjoy reading about everything, but my driver insisted on talking me through everything, probably in attempt to get a big tip for doubling as my unsolicited tour guide. I ignored him most of the time and when I was done I followed a narrow path down to the crocodile pool. I’d never been so close to so many reptiles. They lay very still and peacefully in the shaded areas, some with their mouths open which I learned was their way of cooling themselves down. Crocodiles are sacred animals in Kachikally. They’re not allowed to be killed or harmed and are fed only fish to avoid human or animal hunting. They’re so sacred that it’s believed the water they live in in has healing powers and helps to promote fertility. People go there to bathe and some buy bottles of the water to take home. It was a beautiful and fascinating experience I’d recommend to anyone visiting Gambia.
Week 3 was slightly less eventful. It was the week of Tobaski (Eid al-Adha), a big muslim holiday. Everywhere was busier than ever. Markets were brimming with hawkers, shoppers, cars, trucks, and livestock. It was hard to get much work done with all the noise and excited energy. By the time Tobaski came around, Gambia felt unusually still. Many people travelled out of the city to visit family in small towns and villages. Traffic was clear, the streets were quiet and the air in our neighbourhood was filled with firewood that cooked the goat that families and neighbours customarily slaughtered on the day of Tobaski. It was just my mother and I at home for a few days with little else to do but eat, watch TV and take short drives to the beach. And it was, dare I say it, peaceful. In the past, my mother and I could barely spend 5 minutes alone together without arguing. Now, it was easy. We were resting together. I, from the anxieties and overwhelm of my freelance career. She from the pressures of running a new restaurant. It was nice to be still with her and enjoy a few days of doing barely anything.
On my final weekend in Gambia, my uncle offered to take me to Barra to visit Fort Bullen, what I was told to be an old slave port. We drove from Brufut to Banjul and then took a ferry to Barra. Upon research I’m not entirely sure how much of ra ole Barra played in the trading of slaves. We were guided by a sort-of security guard because the actual museum tour guide wasn’t available that day. I know that it was used by the British to fight Slave traders when slavery was made illegal in Gambia. However, I was told that before that it was a slave port, which would make sense as it’s on the beach just metres away from the sea. It was a difficult but rich learning experience that left me with a heavy heart and an even deeper connection to Africa.
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On Monday night, I said goodbye to Gambia, new braids, new memories, and a renewed spirit in tow. Months ago, I was riddled with anxiety that I made the wrong decision in giving up my flat and deciding to travel. Now, I feel so incredibly good. I feel challenged, enrichened, held, loved and brave. I have Gambia, my mum, and all the friends I met along the way to thank. I needed this and still do. It feels good to follow my heart and know I’m going the right way.
Wow. Ready to hear more about your travels. Enjoying the pictures and graphics as well. Any delicious food ?