Smile! You Are In The Gambia

The inscription on the huge Comium hoarding stood out among the other billboards facing the asphalt road leading to the city of Banjul from the Banjul International Airport, also known as Tundum International Airport.

It was almost 6:00pm and yet there was no sign of darkness as the tarred road leading to my destination was illuminated with the rays of the sun that was still up in the sky.

Intermittently, we passed by shops and factories on the stretch of the less busy road heading towards Banjul. Yellow with green stripped imported old Mercedes Benz and Fiat saloon cars with the 'BJL' prefacing their numbers occasionally passed by us in the opposite direction.

After 20 minutes' drive, we entered the city centre where more people were seen busily going about their activities.

It was the rush hour, as businesses have closed with workers going home for the weekend either using their own cars, taxis or the buses which came in different shapes and sizes like the old 'face to face' buses that ply the Agbogbloshie to Accra Central road.

Soon, I was at the guest house facing one of the beautiful beaches. Local forex bureaus, restaurants shops with locally-made gifts items and the office of The Gambian Tourism Association lined up the entrance to the guest house.

My first impression of the country was already being established, triggering a quest for further exploitation.

Tourism is an important source of foreign exchange, I learnt. In terms of infrastructure, the country is covered by sand, there are only a few pavement roads, but good ones and only in some streets of the city and touristic areas you can enjoy electricity or tap water.

But the people were friendly and always kept a smile on their face while speaking with you.

 
Banjul
With a smile on his face, as typical of most Gambians, Bukari Baldeh, a middle-aged man in his white shirt and blue-black trousers with a corresponding tie and bonnet security uniform, greeted me when I was trying to avoid the red and black monkeys that were making their way through the compound of the guest house.

The sight of the monkeys in the early hours of the day walking on the walls and pavements did not only fascinate me but also made me wonder why so many of such mammals were let loose, especially in a guest house.

“They will not harm you,” Mr Baldeh said. “We have a monkey sanctuary close to this place that is why you see them here,” he explained as he kept his smiley face.

“How was your sleep?” he inquired further. “It was ok,” I said and inquired of him where I could get a public transport to town and there was when he asked if I had been to Banjul.

“I am in Banjul,” I responded. Mr Baldeh smiled and said, “No this is Senegambia, Banjul is in another place.”

Observing the doubt on my face, he offered to be my guide. We met at 10:00am outside the gate making our way towards the east of the guest house to Banjul.

The taxis in Senegambia have specific routes they ply so we joined one of the yellow and green taxis headed to a small taxi station called 'Traffic Light'.

Mr Baldeh is a Fulani; his fair complexion gave a sharp contrast to that of the gentleman we sat beside in the cab. He was a lot darker and the way he crouched his legs at the back of the driver's seat showed he was tall.

The interior of the car was black but neat with a local radio station playing contemporary English songs.

We got to the traffic light station and alighted into another taxi headed towards Westfill, the local transport centre.

In a Mandingo language, popularly spoken in the town, bus conductors could be heard calling out Banjul and other destinations. There were buses everywhere, one group going towards Serekonda and the other Banjul.

We quickly rushed to one blue four-sitter bus and found two empty seats in the rear of the car, “It is 15 dalasi,” the mate said. Dalasi is the legal tender for exchange in the Gambia; it comes in five, 10, 20, 50,100 dalasi note and one dalasi coin and lesser denominations.

Everyone in the vehicle was quiet as it moved past major landmarks like the Denton Bridge which joins Banjul and other towns in the Gambia, the central prison called Mile 2 and the National Assembly.

Banjul, the administrative capital of the Gambia, was characterised by a rather dull atmosphere. There were fewer people as compared to Westfill and it was devoid of all the high rising buildings that characterised a typical capital.

“This is where all the government businesses take place,” Mr Baldah told me and, indeed, it had all the administrative arms of government.

The state house located about three hundred meters from the Banjul market had armed security men guarding the front and rear.

Banks, police headquarters and immigration services, as well as the port and court complex, were all located in the capital.

The Banjul market was big and filled with traders who had brought in their wares to sell, from cosmetics, clothing, shoes to food items.

Although they were not calling out to prospective buyers, the shopkeepers beckoned anyone who would look in the direction of their shop.

The interior of the market was relatively dark with neatly spaced-out paths to the various sheds facing one another. Shops and small 'table top' businesses were located on the pavements of the street leading to the market.

Haddy Senghor, seated beside her fried catfish neatly placed in a pan in front of her with a broom which she used to drive away flies was willing to have a conversation with me.

“The fish business is not too good now because we do not get enough profit as we used to,” she said.

“It was my mother's business she left for me, but now I do not make the sales she used to make,” Haddy added.

She was hopeful with the new government, 'market' will pick up.

Exploring the market in Banjul was not like Serekunda. It was like comparing Odornaa market to Kantamanto, business was 'everywhere' with little space for pedestrians.

There was heavy traffic on the road as almost all the cars were full with passengers going about their business.  Traders openly called out their items in anticipation for a customers and the bus station was heavily packed with passengers awaiting buses to their various destinations.

Ghana Town
As we made our way back to the guest house, Mr Baldah asked another question that caught my attention, “Do you know a town called Ghana Town?” he asked. “When people from Ghana come here we take them there to see their people,” he said.

With excitement, we headed towards Ghana Town on the last day of my stay.

I was so eager to see 'my people' after days in another country. The thought of communicating without any help put a smile on my face as the public bus headed towards the beach where the 'Ghana Town' was located.

The bus stopped in front of the Grace Baptist Church and together with Mr Baldah, we entered the town.

Our first encounter after inquiring from a school girl the whereabouts of the head of the community was a pleasant one.

The words, “Kofi kↃ frɛ wo papa bra,” to wit “Kofi go and call you father” was refreshing and as I sat waiting for Mr Kwabina Ekuam, I could hardly keep my excitement.

Mr Kobina Ekuam and Peter Kwesi Abeyi, elders of the town, welcomed me in the Fante language, in which we had most of our conversation.

The fishing business is what brought the people of the Central Region, precisely Akumfi, to The Gambia in 1958 when the first Ghanaians settled in the now Ghana Town as fishermen.

The town was spacious and had a large area yet to be used, so a portion was allocated to the new settlers and that is where they have settled till date.

“We started with red fish business but it died off so now we are into salted fish which we transport some to Ghana upon order from market women in Ghana,” Mr Ekuam said in Fante.

He said when he first sojourned to The Gambia, the fish business was booming but the market has had other fishermen from other countries joining which has reduced the monopoly they used to have.

For them so far, as they get their catch and send some back for income they are okay. “The Gambian government has lived with us peacefully all these years and we hope that the new government will continue.”

A walk through the town revealed multiple locally-made fish smoking ovens with fish ready to be marketed.

The young men in the town were engaged in some form of construction while the children were in a local school built by a Christian organisation in the community.

I noticed they are contented with their livelihood although they are not in their own country, as they went about their work with joy.

Thus, as I bid farewell to Ghana Town in The Gambia and Senegambia and my guide, Mr Baldah, my mind flashed back to the Comium billboard I saw on the first day I entered The Gambia and the inscription which read, “smile you are in The Gambia”.

By Jamila Akweley Okertchiri