The Gambia is a country the size of Yorkshire, a sliver of land bang in the middle of Senegal. At less than 30 miles wide at its widest it is the smallest country in mainland Africa. The Gambian coast feels instantly different to Senegal.
The most obvious difference is the thriving resort industry. Waking up on the first morning we could have been in Spain. We had croquet madams sitting next to an overweight and leathery German couple sporting a number of tattoos. Walking out onto the picturesquely tropical beach it was however easy to see why this would be a popular holiday spot. The flights are cheap and you get more for your money as well as the chance to relax in a place that remains relatively unspoilt. If you never left the clusters of tourist spots along the coast you could almost convince yourself you were in a place without problems.
A sinister undercurrent to the tourist industry is the prolific and open sex industry. Both men with prostitutes and older women with young Gambian men are a common sight. It seems that everybody feels they have something to gain both the tourists flocking in and the Gambians looking for a ticket out. Stories of success are not uncommon which means neither are proposals from strangers! This aspect of The Gambia is not an attractive one and can make you feel cynical as all transactions in the area seem economically motivated. It is hard to ever get away from being a ‘toubab’ (foreigner) and the ‘tax’ that accompanies being one.
The night life caters to the industry meaning there is a lively party to be found every night. When you are drunk in Wow and garage music takes you by surprise it’s possible to overlook the brazen swindling and the male dominated crowd (the only women being local prostitutes or other foreigners). Returning sober however to find a stolen phone is surreal and reveals an ugly and monotonous world of insincerity.
Tight economic policy means it is difficult for local people to make a living. Strict trading rules give the hotels and big companies in the tourist areas president over licenses preventing the communities from benefiting from the industry. Money is also concentrated in an ex-pat community who run a lot of the hotels and bars. It seems because of these factors little of the wealth ever reaches the people and makes sex tourism a viable economic route. President Yahya Jammeh himself is the biggest example of the unequal concentration of wealth and power. ‘Elected’ president of The Gambia in 1996 after taking control through a military coup two years earlier Jammeh has a tight grip on the country. The official title he uses is His Excellency Sheikh Professor Alhaji Dr. Yahya Abdul-Azziz Jemus Junkung Jammeh Naasiru Deen.
Propaganda everywhere promotes his generosity and compassion whilst the secret police stifle any opposition. People here are understandably reluctant to talk about politics however when the subject does arise there is clearly a feeling of dissent. Jammeh holds huge public rallies, where he distributes (dashes at people heads) sweets and biscuits but the country’s infrastructure remains seriously under developed. It seems unlikely The Gambia’s fortune will improve until the politics does.
Away from the seriously touristy coast you get to Serrakunda, a bustling market town of organised chaos. Here business has the opportunity to thrive as people go about their everyday lives and the hotels have no reason to be concerned about a controlling monopoly. It’s a pleasure to sit in the heart of town and observe life over a locally priced meat pasty and locally brewed beer (Julbrew; all anybody drinks except the occasional Guinness). The local chop houses, where meat is bought by the kilo and cooked on an open fire are also not to be missed.
After a week by the coast we went to stay on a farm with our friend Sam whose family live here. It gave us the chance to get away from the toubab hassle and introduced us to a different side of Gambian life. The Farm is located amidst a collection of villages from which a cacophony of music erupts at night. Following one sound into the bush lead us to a different kind of night life. In a hidden village street we found two stacks of speakers blasting distorted reggae where men and women alike could dance with abandon, all that was expected of us here was to join in.
Though traveling here can be frustrating there is clearly more to The Gambia than all day fry ups and tourist tat, which makes it worth while wandering off into the bush.
