SENEGAL AND THE GAMBIA - Journal no. 3

Senegal experience – Journal no. 3 

28^th July to the 23^rd August 2009

Moving on to 'The Gambia'

Hi to one and all. 
Sorry for those that have missed out on the updates, hopefully all is now resolved.

I’m sitting in the sun along the Gambian coast in the beach village of Gunjur at present wondering where to begin. My daughter arrived from the UK for an impromptu two-week visit on Tuesday 18^th August and it seemed logical to drive to Banjul, given the airport is closer to Bounkiling, Casamance, Senegal than Dakar. It also provided an opportunity to re-explore The Gambia. My last visit co-incidentally with my daughter Katherine six years ago. We stayed at that time at a beach hotel in Fajara, a short distance from the main city.

Since starting this E-mail Katherine and I have moved on again, crossing the border into Senegal and on our way to Cap Skerring, south of Ziguincho and close to the border with Guinea Bissau.

‘Naming ceremony’ in the village of Ndongane

In my previous update I skipped briefly over the ‘baby naming ceremony’ and it’s certainly worthy of a few more words.

You may recollect Caddie gave birth to a baby just before we left the village on the 22^nd July if I’m not mistaken. 

Baby Deanne, D, Fatou and Caddie

The event enshrined in Muslim tradition is a fairly colourful affair with people dressed in there finery. 

Touring the compounds

The day began around 10.00 a.m. with people visiting each of the twelve or so compounds in turn, although that only became apparent as the day wore on, communication is a problem in the village at times.

 A point of note if you are invited into a Muslim home or asked to eat with them it is considered an insult to refuse their hospitality the same is true when passing a home or compound of someone you know. Walk in, greet all, partake of what ever is on offer and then at an appropriate time move on.

Another ‘Deanne’ in the village

Visiting over, everybody proceeds to the main compound to partake in the ‘Sadou family’ hospitality and share in the official proceedings. All are invited with most contributing towards the occasion. 

Out of respect and tradition the men, women and children form into separate groups. Deanne and I, however, as ‘Tubab's‘, (guests) are accorded the special privilege of being able to sit with whom and where we want. 

The baby’s head is shaved, all part of the process, prayers are said, the baby’s given a name, Deanne in this case, money is collected and then the feast begins. 

I say feast, in reality it’s a fairly modest affair with a single goat or two slaughtered to feed circa 200, bulked out with lots of spicy Jollof rice. 

At 6.00 p.m. there was a local football match played in the usual frenetic manner ending in nil, nil draw, apt as they sometimes degenerate into confrontation and occasionally violence. Sadou donated a modest cash prize to ensure and element of commitment throughout the game.

An all night African disco followed held at one of the compounds. African’s know how to party by the way.

After an excellent day of fun and feasting, I decided to have an early night, with the intention of returning to Ziguinchor the following morning, independent of Deanne, primarily to access the Internet.

The trip was uneventful culminating in a short stay at the Hotel Parquet. A local travellers haunt, Internet café, by accident rather than design, the people that run it now are now friends of mine, it's comfortable and the food is good. It also happens to be close to at least two ATM’s and as I’m collecting enough for both D and I, since she lost her card in Dakar, I need to take the amount out over a two-day period.

Return marks D’s departure

After a few days I returned to the village and spent the day with Deanne before she left for a three-day visit to Kaufountine.

Just to provide an insight into the process of moving around Africa. To get the 80km to Kaufountine, you need to find your way first to the town of Carrefour either by walking, riding a bike or via a donkey cart, a 1½-hour trip. It’s then a question of taking a bus or sept+ to Begonia, about an hour away, changing vehicle at the Gare Routier for the finally leg to Kaufountine, with a journey time of about 1¾ hours.

Simple, or so it would seem, however, it takes most of the day to complete the journey. Time is lost waiting around for available transport and all of the places to be sold before setting off!

Her trip extended into a week and in the process she had her money, passport and credit cards stolen and then mysteriously returned again.

I say mysteriously, after she recounted the tale of how things disappeared, it seemed fairly obvious that the security guard, Mamado, had removed the items from her bag. He showed much too much interest for my liking in our valuables when we stayed at the same compound before.

Anyway, after suggesting that she brazenly declare to all, particularly in the presence of Mamado, that she intended calling in the police, I felt that all of the items would reappear and that’s exactly what happened!

The important thing is D was fine as for the trip to sort out support for aiding the village it was unproductive.

Trying to teach in the village 

The week that Deanne was in Kaufountine I spent trying to educate the children with, I hasten to add, what seemed little co-operation from the village elders.

Given my limited experience, I think I’d established that there were five main areas of concern:

1. A lack of equipment, e.g. seats, tables, educational aids, books, writing paper, pens, pencils, etc., etc., making it difficult, therefore, to maintain control, a sense of order, retain interest or structure to a lesson.

2. The children were of varying ages and ability. It was also unclear how many would attend a class each day.

3. It was proving difficult to find a time when all of the children were available. July to October is the busy time in the farming calendar so the older boys and girls (8-15) work in the fields, everybody eats at around 2.00 p.m. and the older boys play football at 5.30 p.m.

4. My lack of spoken French was proving a problem, although in fairness, only a limited number of the children spoke French, with Pulaar the main spoken word.

5. Finally, D insisted that you should speak only the language that you are teaching, a problem when trying to retain order.  

Much later I would find out that this is very much the core principle of Teaching English in a Foreigner Language, or TEFL.

One finally point, children are beaten severely by the professional tutors using a meter long ruler in order to retain discipline, something that I was not prepared to subscribe to.

Ultimatum!

The real problem was with the parents and trying to engage their full support. After pressing for benches to be installed in the school for some time I think by Wednesday I had had enough and issued an ultimatum, ‘No seating - no lessons‘. Thursday the benches (planks laid over bricks) appeared and we’d determined that 3.00 p.m. would be the best time for the class.

It was the best class yet with about 40 children in attendance, although with the limited resources it proved difficult to retain interest for more than ½ an hour. And when some of the bricks holding the planks in place crumbled causing several children to fall to the floor, all hope was lost.

Essentially I decide to speak with D on her return and determine a way forward. 


Events in Kaufountine

Deanne returned and re-counted events in Kaufountine, which continued to bubble on throughout that week. Accusations and counter accusations from what I could make out. Various people blaming someone else, or undermining an individual, anyway the whole thing seemed to have gathered its own momentum.

Isolation, frustration and ineffectiveness in the village and the problems that I’d experienced teaching, marked my previous week. At the same time my daughter Katherine had been in touch over the previous day or two and suggested that she’d like to join me. She’d secured a flight to Banjul, Gambia landing at 3.30 p.m. on the 18th August, so I guess the decision to move on had been made for me.

Educational walk

The remaining time in the village was fairly eventful. I’d suggested to D an early morning educational nature walk involving children aged between 5 and 11.

It proved a great success. It’s funny how objectivity returns when you remove concern of failure. Clearly I had more of an issue with conducting classes than I had realized.

We gathered the children at an agreed time, being very selective in so far as age and took one of the many tracks out of the village into the woods, the intention to illicit simple Nouns and Adjectives. By combining physical activity with naming and identifying objects, colours, etc., or making a game we were able to retain real enthusiasm and class participation.

The lesson culminated with the young boys diving into a mud pool, with the girls eventually joining in. As an observation, it’s the first time that I’d seen boys and girls playing together on an equal basis. 

Football match in Medina

We attended a football tournament in the nearby village of Medina; I hasten to add held in torrential rain.

Excellent fun though and played in Great Spirit although it was more like a mud bath than a football match.

At one point, we became the center of attention as is seemingly the case as outsiders, with Deanne and I performing a short tribal dance (not a pretty site).

Inter village football tournament

We attended a further knockout football tournament held some days later with the Ndongane team resplendent in their new football strip of light blue. 

Unfortunately the match descended into violence, with these very gentle, simple folk most of the time seeing red, ripping up and brandishing fence posts with malicious intent. It was the women folk that intercede and bought a semblance of sanity to the proceedings. A disco followed, a little subdue at first, held at the local school and finishing around 4.00 a.m.!

Life in the village of Ndongane

You know one of the great attractions to the village of Ndongane, and this could of course be true across Casamance and beyond, is the simplicity of life here. It's so very uncomplicated and so very real. The over riding priority is to put food on the table, which means cultivating the land during a very defined period in the year, 4 months from planting to harvesting. 

It can be a very fragile existence wholly dependent on the elements and with no contingence plans in place.

For 4/5 months of the year the village ranks swell as husbands working elsewhere, even abroad like Sadou, or the elder children return for the intense period of preparation, planting, tending and harvesting.

The day begins around 5.00 a.m. and everyone has a part to play. The young girls, 4 to 7 years tend the babies and younger children, pound the cereal into flour, clean the compound, fetch water or wash clothes, the elder girls spend most of the day pulling the water from the well, back breaking work, and washing or cooking. The boys, men and elder ladies are out in the field working, only interrupted by meals and prayers at 7.00 a.m., 2.00 p.m. and 7.00 p.m. Throughout all of this there is a sense of fun, of belonging, of purpose, of real joy and happiness.

The men work very hard during the growing season returning to long months of inactivity there after. Often there are a multitude of tasks that would collectively improve life in the village that are left undone and it’s not down to money as most of the raw materials are readily available for free, bamboo, wood, etc. Throughout the remaining year the women and children relentlessly attend to the mundane chores.

Parting gifts for the villagers

The last Saturday before leaving, D and I helped the villagers clear the paths and the central area; effectively a large raised area of ground, housing the principle well and a large ancient mango tree. Apparently, the last Friday of every month is set aside for the clearing of paths, tracks, compounds and the collecting and burning of rubbish.

We built a swing, suspended from one of the huge branches of the mango tree in the
 central square area, which proved a great success. A parting gift from the both of us as Deanne has also decided to move on, a few days after me. 

Sunday, my last formal day in the village, we attend the village meeting, a chance to summarize the progress made within the village and to identify new projects, it also provide a forum for me to say thank you for the hospitality given and goodbye to all of my new found friends.

A somewhat tearful 6.45 a.m. start the following morning with a donkey cart ride with D to the town of Carrefour. The sad thing is that the elders didn’t tell the children that I was leaving although a few of the women turned out to say goodbye, Caddie in particular. I may not have been able to communicate directly, however, I’d still established a rapport with the village women and children through humour and a sense of fun.

After saying good-bye to Deanne and asking her to purchase a large bag of rice on my behalf (25kg at 13000 CFA) along with a bag of sweets for the children I left by Sept+ initially for Begonia and then the border with Gambia.

The Gambian border

Crossing the border is a fairly uneventful affair, just time consuming. First the sept+ or bus will pull over by the Senegal passport office, a small hut. Particular time is taken over registering foreigners, sometimes to the annoyance of the locals on board your mode of transport. The vehicle then takes you a further ½ kilometer to the border crossing. All disgorge and elect the next means of getting to your chosen destination in The Gambia whilst fending off the many touts (joys of Africa I’m afraid) at the same time. There are either offering to change money at a ‘good rate’ or transport, often overpriced.

Last flash of your passport and you pass through, luggage and all, under an unassuming gate or arch spanning the road which  marks the border.

On the other side about a kilometer away, is the Gambia border control, a slightly more substantial structure, where the passport name, number and country of origin are recorded, the passport stamped and away you go.

We arrived in Serukunda, Gambia only after a change of vehicle along the way.

The city of Serukunda

Serrekunda (or Serekunda, proper: Sere Kunda) is the largest city in The Gambia, lying southwest of Banjul. Its population as of 2006 was 335,733 people. Although Banjul is The Gambia's capital, it is on an island, making further growth difficult  channeling much of the expansion to Serekunda.

Serrekunda is known for its market, its silk cotton tree and its wrestling arena. The town's suburbs include Kanifing, Latrikunda, Sukuta and London Corner with the seaside resorts of Baku, Fajara and Kotu.

Eventually after wandering around for a while, I took a taxi to Kololi managing to find a small guesthouse/lodge with two available rooms, situated close to the coast.

There’s not much I can say about Kololi, it’s much more advanced than Senegal clearly, it’s geared up totally for tourism and everyone speaks English although Mendinka is the main spoken language. There are traditional buildings, shops, etc., similar to Western developments, the roads are good and on the whole there's an infrastructure in place that works, electric and running water, for example. 

There is a lovely clean sandy beach with the only downside the tourist touts want a piece of you or your money. Not the Africa I wanted to see. 


Katherine flies in from the UK

Katherine arrived Tuesday, after a three-hour delay due to a detour to Dakar whilst a violent thunderstorm played out over Banjul airport.

Great to see her and looking so well too. 
 We spent that evening and one more day exploring the area and then decided to move further down the coast to the fishing village of Gunjur, very remote, far away from the tourist area, with a good sandy beach, quirky guesthouses and good accommodation.

The fishing village of Gunjur

We spent 4 excellent nights at a place called ‘The Gunjur Experience’, www.thegunjurprojectgambia.com. Owned jointly by a Gambian guy, Algai, and an English couple. It caters primarily for UK students interested in understanding a little bit about Africa. They offer ethnic activities like braiding hair, traditional dancing and playing African drums, etc. 

Comprising a large walled and gated compound with space for pitching tents as well as providing five en-suite lodges. The landscaped gardens conceal a swimming pool and covered restaurant, all set about a kilometer along a mudded track and a further kilometer from the sea. 

Gunjur itself, is a comparatively quiet fishing village south of Banjul, with little signs of commercialism, it has a lovely beach and very little else so absolutely perfect. 


We spent four very relaxed days getting to know the only two other travellers staying at the Gunjur Project very well, a Spanish dad and daughter, Tutu (nickname) and Angela. Tutu interestingly enough is looking to buy land to grow, I think, rapeseed for use as an alternative to fossil fuel for powering motorcars.

Our intention was to cross the border on the 23^rd, however, trouble in Ziguinchor caused the border to be closed temporarily. Alagi kindly took us by 4x4 the following day to the Gambian border saving us a lot of time. Once in Seleti, the border village, it’s then simply a question of organizing a sept+ to take us to Ziguinchor.

After an early lunch at the Hotel Parquet we headed back to the Gare Routier, where we travelled by a further sept+ the last leg of our journey to Cap Skerring, the Southern most part of Senegal. Well almost, I think that Kabrousse is below Cap Skerring and borders Guinea-Bissau.

Cap Skerring and ‘La Maison Bleue’

We are currently staying at ‘La Maison Bleue’ for 3 to 4 nights, a nice
 French boutique style hotel which fronts onto the beach. The site is elevated and I guess 50 meters down a flight of steps to the beach. Katherine and I have separate rooms on the 2nd floor with a balcony that overlooks the sea, ‘www.lamaisonbleue.sn’.

 

On the face of it would seem slightly extravagant staying at this particular hotel, however, we managed to obtain a substantial ‘out of season' discount, which compares favorably with the price of a room at the Campements in the village, and the food is good.

Kat arrived in the hope of getting a suntan, unfortunately it’s now the rainy season and its started in earnest. The irony is it’s currently 35/40 degrees in the UK. Whoops!!!!