In 2003, while working for the prestigious The Pool newspaper, I published my own experience of The Gambia, after visiting that tiny but progressive West African state for the first time. My article then was themed on a growing economy, succoured by a thriving tourist industry, but marred by an indicting human rights record.
Six years hence, I found myself spending three nights in the country, en route to Freetown and back to London, this dying November. Three days was not sufficient for me to see the good and the ugly, but The Gambia is such a small country, that the probing mind can interpret the behaviour of a handful of citizens to represent the whole.
The Gambia Experience, is a slogan airlines use to attract tourists to the worm-like republic. I flew with that tag on board both Vikings Airlines and Air Monarch, to and fro. I did not allow my views to be swayed by the slogan at face value, rather with a mind set on what fresh experience there was to gain from.
Upon arrival at Yundum Airport, the blazing African sunshine emitting an oven-like heat, greeted us as we disembarked Vikings Airlines. This temperature contrasted sharply with the chilly state we had left back at Gatwick. However, progress dawned upon me when as soon as we entered the airport terminal for immigration checks and customs procedures. The central cooling system was at full blast, making us forget about the heat; well, for a while. I went through immigration without trouble. In fact, because of my complexion, some of the officials warmed up to me, and started greeting me in wollof; “Nangadef!” “Njamarek”, I struggled to reply.
My troubles however started at customs. What is it with Gambians and mobile phones? The guys ransacked my luggage, wanting to know how many mobile phones I had with me. I told them five, and that none of them were mine. They retrieved the mobiles and asked me to pay £50 to get them back. I cheekily told them to take the phones, but that I was not prepared to pay. I lectured them that we Africans in the Diaspora take these phones home to help our compatriots and in the process help develop communication in the continent. Positive vibes! They were impressed, but yet wanted their palms to be rubbed. To save time and get out there to see my nephew Lamine and the land, I parted with £10 and five hundred Dalasis. Equivalent? About £21. Take note Alhaji Jammeh, your men have started taking bribes!
West Field
In The Gambia, it is difficult for cabbies to cheat passengers, especially from the airport. Outside the terminal is a large sign, detailing fares from the airport to different destinations. However, most of the taxis are in a poor state. The beautiful ones ply the streets of Banjul and Serre Kunda. As we rode, soaking the African heat, I could not wait to visit West Field and check out my old haunts of Cassa Grandi, Monument and Joko. I invited an old friend of mine, Massaquoi for dinner at Monument. As we dived into our dishes of chicken afra, washed down with Julbrew, Massaquoi moaned about the slow pace the economy was going, and the rise in the cost of living. However, he was full of praise for the leader, His Excellency Colonel Doctor Alhaji Professor Sheik Yaya A. J. J. Jammeh. Wow! That’s a mouthful. But yes, the leader is addressed by all in full and nothing short, or else, you risk his wrath. And boy, you don’t want to meet him when he is angry. Even the most critical newspapers do not challenge this ‘divine’ dictate.
The next day, I left Banjul for Freetown, on board a brand new Arik Air flight, which left our luggage in The Gambia. After four days, I had to cross the estuary to Lungi to collect my luggage. And guess what? True to The Gambian honesty, mine was intact.
Macdormoh
As mentioned above, on my return trip to London, I spent two nights in The Gambia. My favourite spot then became Macdormoh at Bakau, because my mates, Simeon and Shaban, no longer patronise Monument, because of its falling standards. Macdormoh is a hotspot for toubabs (white tourists), National Intelligence Agents, opposition politicians and Jammeh loyalists. I was introduced to Femi Peters, the campaign manager of United Democratic Party, Gambia’s main opposition. Of medium height, fat and a laid back character, Femi was arrested this past October and accused of “controlling of procession” and “using loud speakers in public without a written consent of the IGP, contrary to Gambia’s Public Order Act”. Ridiculous? Well, that’s Public Order Act for its advocates.
Femi seemed to be a good listener who allowed his hench men to do the talking. As they shared a bottle of red wine, their argument took a confrontational tone. One of them threatened to teach the ‘damn foreign magistrate’ at the Kanifing Magistrates Courts where the matter had been transferred from Banjul. “How dare he come to The Gambia and tell us what we know?” he fumed. Simmer down bruv, the law is the law, regardless of what nationality interprets it. Push for a change of the draconian laws!
“Don’t mind him”, Simeon whispered to me, “he is just wasting his breath. The guy (Yayah Jammeh) is going to win again…”
‘Win again? How many terms is he entitled to run for?’, I queried.
“Forget terms. This is not Europe. The guy said he will contest until someone beat him through the ballot box. In fact, there are massive defections going on. The people really love him”
Though I hate the idea of African leaders hanging on to power, it was not hard to see Simeon’s reason why the people love their leader. Tourism was booming and the people yearn for the toubabs or white tourists. In fact, on my return flight to London, I was to observe that about 95% of the passengers on board Monarch Airlines were all toubabs. The cities of Banjul and Serre Kunda were expanding in terms of population and structures. Business is growing here! The TAF programme (housing at a sort of mortgage purchase), booms. Water and electricity are constant commodities.
Charlie
During the day, I visited the beaches at Kololi and Bakau. They are ever growing, expanding and well tended. Hotels and B&Bs are competing for prominence, neatness and value for money services. ATMs, internet cafes and tele centres were to be seen in every corner. Even in shacks! Street lights and traffic lights shine brighter. The malls and edifices of Kairaba Avenue showcase designer and quality goods. You won’t miss the Wild Wild West man. The president himself, seeing the benefit of tourism, has transformed his home town of Kanilai into a tourist resort. He boasts of a massive farm, fish ponds and wild life reserves. Just the attractions that would lure tourists to come again. Yet, the Gambian heritage and traditions remain well preserved. Cultural dance troupes and ndanga music welcome and escort the visitor all over The Gambia. Assalamualaikum!
After a day’s stroll, I decided to visit good old Charlie, the crocodile at his home at Bakau. And he is still wicked; a marvel to watch.
Hero worship
My hommie, Simeon offered to drive me to the airport, on my London-bound trip. Simeon has an ageing Mercedes Benz that needed to drink water every half mile or so. Riding in the car were Shaban, my nephew Lamine, Simeon and I. My nephew was worried that the snail pace of the car would cost me my flight. We made it in time. I think I was amongst the first five to check in. On our way to the airport, while we were taking the micky on Simeon’s car, I observed that on top of each street pole on the Atlantic highway were Gamcel sponsored bill boards. Now, if the President’s full name is a mouthful, I got an eyeful. Prominent were paintings of President Jammeh on each, with the words Yaay Brom! inscribed beneath. Gamcel is the state owned telecommunication company, and they were organising a lottery that assured winners flashy cars (Yaay Brom!). The onomatopoeic sound, made me think that the ad is no different from Yayah the broom.
Yup, the broom that sweeps The Gambia. I teased my co-passengers about it. But why would they want to parade the president’s image on that stretch of highway? I asked Simeon, a Jammeh loyalist, the question. His reply was simple and short. “Jammeh is a good leader”.
“Yeah”, I replied. “And how many shares has he got in each state owned company?”
I was taking the p*** now. Simeon cautioned me strongly, “If you say that in public transport, the people themselves will beat you up”.
Too late, Simeon! Back to the West; the horizon of free speech and constructive criticism.
As our plane taxied the runway for take off,I observed, parked at a prominent spot, the president’s personal jet, with men servicing and guarding it under the scorching sun. About five SLOK Airlines planes are still grounded parked almost at the periphery of the airport. Word is that they owed the Gambian authorities a lot in airport landing charges. Are their presence a reminder to other airlines not to default? Jammeh, the man of steel!
As our flight gained its altitude, I mentally replayed my Gambia Experience. And I hope that my country, Sierra Leone, would copy and translate those genuine experiences into reality. But not the kind of experience that would strengthen draconian laws or persecute the opposition. I know we, can. We have the resources, so push the play button Ernest Bai Koroma! Thank God, you haven’t got such a mouthful of a name. Please don’t copy that particular experience.
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