Well, it has certainly been a long day. I had to begin with getting up at 4:20. We had to catch the first ferry from Banjul to Barra which leaves at 7:00 but in order to get to Banjul we had to catch a “bush taxi” from Westfield Junction, which is about a mile from where I live. I say “we” because I made this trip with another VSO friend of mine, Christine, who had indicated she wanted to try this trip to Dakar by bus with me. We figured it was a) easier than taking a regular bush taxi b) cheaper than a flight and c) (most importantly) it was a good way to see a bit of Senegal before getting to Dakar. The tickets for the bus I had purchased a few days ago and they were much cheaper than any other form of transport (short of walking) that we know of and, it turns out, much more comfortable.

At 5:30 I met Christine at a place we both knew just down from Westfield then we walked to the junction (a long walk, but no taxis seemed to be around at that time). When we got to the junction we found an empty bush taxi that indicated it would go to Banjul as a “town trip” for 50 delasis. Ok, a town trip is essentially what we would consider a normal taxi ride – door to door – as opposed to a bus which might follow a particular route. Bush taxis normally follow a set route and the trip to Banjul is normally 4 delasis so 50 was a bit beyond us (even if it was split between the two of us) so we decided to wait until they filled the other seats in the van. We did not have a long time to wait, about 20 minutes.

It was quite strange taking the bush taxi at this time of the morning – there is no one around and it is so quiet. I am used to the hustle of city life – beggars, hawkers, and just an abundance of people (and “life” itself). We were able to have the bush taxi take us right to the ferry terminal which is a good thing since it would have been about a half mile walk from where the bush taxi normally finishes in Banjul – though we had to pay an extra 3 delasis each.

Well, if Banjul itself was quiet, the ferry terminal certainly wasn't. Christine stood off to the side as I got into a queue for tickets (the booth was not yet open). It turns out that the queue had formed at the wrong window – mistakenly assuming that the big glass window was the ticket place instead of the small window about half a foot square recessed in the wall at just above knee height (convenient only for those crawling). We stood for quite some time before the small window opened and then a mad rush of hands thrust their way through the window for tickets – with me in the middle since I happened to be standing right in front of it. I managed to crouch down and push my fist through and shout “naar!” (two) for the tickets. Once I had the tickets and my change (hopefully) clenched in my fist I had to tug to get my back-pack out of the ensuing throng.

Christine was not amused, I was at the far side of the crowd and she had to make her way through to where I was in order to get into the waiting room for the ferry (the ticket booth is at the beginning of a long narrow corridor with the other end being the waiting room and someone checking tickets). It turns out we could have gone around and entered the ferry along with the vehicles which are let on first but, playing by the books, we stood in the crowd of people at the end of the waiting room by the padlocked gates and watched the vehicles (and, disappointingly, many foot passengers as well) enter the ferry ahead of us.

Finally we were released from our prison onto the boat and people flowed quite readily onto the ferry – it was no where nearly as busy as I have seen it in the past. There were actually places to sit available and you could see a bit of the deck…Christine and I made our way up to the second floor near the bridge and sat down with our backs against the wall. From here we were able to have a good view of the vehicles below and where we were going looking directly across the bow of the ship.

A “MercyShip” (see https://www.mercyships.org.uk/ for details) is in Banjul right now. They are an organisation that owns a number of big old cruise liners that they have converted into floating hospitals that provide care to various places that normally do not have such care available. It is a massive, smart-looking ship in the small harbour at Banjul. Very impressive.

The trip was relatively uneventful as we sat and talked, picking up a package of cookies from someone selling them (people were selling all sorts of things, of course) – with an interesting conversation with the hawker about the price though we managed to pay “local” and not “tourist” prices (eventually).

We eventually arrived at about 8:30/8:40 which was not bad considering we left on time at just after 7:00. After docking, we joined the queue leaving the ferry and spotted our bus to Dakar – waiting for us before the exit gate of the ferry loading area – very convenient. We were not the first ones there, but we were told to wait for a few minutes after which our names were called in the order which we had purchased our tickets. Ours were #3 and #4 so we secured a very good seat about a 1/3 of the way back, on the left side, of course with two of us, one of us (Christine) got the window. While we waited for the rest of the group to load we were accosted by people selling various items outside the windows. We picked up a bag of what turned out to be bitter plums which were very tasty (and we ended up eating all the way to Dakar), but quite small and mostly “pit”. There were all sorts of other things including a gentleman who came on board with a clear plastic bag full of various pharmaceuticals (including “dramamine” – for motion sickness – which did not bode well for the trip).

The bus is in pretty good shape which is surprising since it is operated by the Gambia Public Transit Company (GPTC). Most of the buses they operate are somewhat old but this one seemed fairly new (only about 10-15 years old). It even has arm rests (don't even THINK that it would have air conditioning or music – open the window and start whistling!).

Eventually we were loaded and headed off through the gate and made our way slowly through the clutter of parked and waiting vehicles around the ferry area (some vehicles wait, we are told, for DAYS before getting on the ferry – you can see the drivers sleeping in hammocks strung up underneath the trailers). Eventually we were on our way – only to stop about five minutes later at the “bus terminal” just outside of Barra where we were able to use the “facilities” (grab a tea pot of water, visit the hut at the far end of the compound, see the hole in the ground…“toilet paper”? What is that? What do you think the water is for?). This took a bit of time but eventually we were all loaded and off once again on our way. By this time it was getting a bit…warm.

Very quickly we left the settled areas when we came across the border into Senegal. We were told we did not need Visas and this turned out to be the case though they came and took our passports away from us – of course causing us to follow them to get them back. The questions were pretty standard “Why are you going to Senegal?”, etc. We boarded the bus (avoiding more hawkers selling everything from the ubiquitous mango to toiletries) only to stop another 100 meters down the road for customs and then stopped again another 50 meters from there for Senegal border checks as well. Many people had their bags searched but since we had only minimal baggage and nothing to declare, we were left alone. I took the chance to fight for five minutes with someone to purchase some “afra” – meat (lamb, in this case) cooked in a metal box where you point at which pieces you want (with a pre-defined price each) and they cut it off the bones for you, adding spices if you want, and give it to you wrapped in a torn piece of brown paper – along with some bread (just meat is a bit much). It was quite good but he charged a LOT more money than I would have paid in the Gambia so I had a bit of trouble figuring out if that was INDEED the price or not (eventually, I paid up). I feel a bit bad though – I got a bit upset at them and actually raised my voice – it was taking FOREVER and I thought the bus was going to leave – this worked though, I had my meat a few seconds later (less a LOT of money – 25 delasis each, 2 pieces and 3 delasis for bread!). Once finished with the afra I did as what everyone else does – through the rubbish out of the window (don't be silly – “garbage container”, what is that?). This was something that Chris and I really noticed for the whole trip – they were selling canned drinks on the bus (in an ice-filled cooler) and people, once finished, simply through the can out of the window of the bus (moving, or not). Very annoying.

At 10:30 we eventually got past the border and continued on to stop just outside of Kaolack beside a large body of water where they were harvesting salt. You could see the piles of it in the distance and the people wading out in the water to harvest it from the bottom. We stopped at what was obviously a place the buses commonly used as there were a number of people selling frozen juice including our favourite: baobab. So, Chris got out of the bus and went in search of some. We had picked up some CFAs (the currency in use in Senegal – interestingly, this is “Communaute Financiere Africaine” which is supported by France and is used in a number of former french colonies in Africa) but unfortunately they turned out to be FAR in excess of what we needed for the baobab so Chris was actually GIVEN a small frozen bag of juice (since they wanted something like 500 CFA, and the smallest bill we had was about 5000 CFA).

We continued through Kaolack which turned out to be a good sized town. Senegal has turned out to be (so far) very impressive in terms of infrastructure when compared to The Gambia. Here, and many other very small villages, all seem to have electricity, water and telephone lines using very good looking poles and sub-stations (“built to last” concrete and very tidy looking). The roads are much better than the Gambia but not fantastic though the bus seems to be able to simply “float” across most of the holes and ruts. We passed by a number of bush taxis on their side beside the road.

The countryside is much like the Gambia except perhaps a bit sparser with, it seems, fewer villages and trees, with a lot more sand and open areas. The Baobab trees are also very impressive with the bus passing by a number of “Baobab forests” (as I called them) – large numbers of baobab trees for as far as the eye could see (though fairly far apart, with little, if any, other types of trees there as well).

As we approached Dakar, having passed Mbour, both sides of the roads started to be built up with shop after shop and house after house. We started going through a series of roundabouts and passed by some high-rises and a few impressive looking “nurseries” (areas where potted plants are lined up in rows). Eventually we were on a “dual carriageway” before continuing south at a LARGE roundabout into Dakar itself. Today we had headed north out of Banjul to Barra, then northeast to Koalack, then northwest to just outside of Dakar to finally head south into the city.

We arrived in the city proper at about 4:00 though we were immediately held up with traffic – for an hour and a half. We made good use of it by talking to people in other vehicles out of our windows as well as to people wandering in amongst the “parked” vehicles selling things such as rechargeable lights, CDs, food and birds (Christine was very polite to the person selling these, indicating that she would NOT want to buy them but would rather set them free from their cage). The number of people on scooters and motorcycles weaving in amongst the traffic, in the wrong direction, on the pavement (sidewalk) and against the traffic lights – was truly astounding after the Gambia – I doubt if scooters would last too long on Gambian roads…

Eventually we continued towards the train station though the bus eventually stopped, evidently in need of some work to be done on it and we decided to get out and walk (since we were able to figure out where we were on the map in our guide book). Evidently, you can get the GPTC bus in the opposite direction – from Dakar to Barra (Banjul) but it is at some ghastly hour in the morning and you pretty much have to arrange with the driver on the previous day as to where and at what time he will be leaving (from). A bit hap-hazard.

We walked around a large roundabout outside of the rather dilapidated looking train station and headed south towards Place de L'Independance – a large park-like area that seems to be where most of the big hotels are located (as well as banks and other big organizations). The buildings all have a very colonial look to them with most of them being only one or two stories in height. We made our way around the Place and then along Pompidou which is where we really started getting a lot of hassle with people very desperately trying to sell us everything and anything - - They did not really want to take “no” (in French or Wolof – both of which are spoken here, no english really) for an answer. We managed to duck into a small “patisserie” and purchase a very nice ice-cream desert which was a bit of a break from the street. Heading south we eventually found Rue Jules Ferry and followed it to the hotel we were staying in: Hotel du Plateau.

Chris insists she knows no french but managed to convey our plans to the concierge quite well (there are a number of us volunteers staying at the hotel – the others will be arriving later on a flight or tomorrow). The hotel is quite nice and the elevator is VERY small (three of us fit in it but we were all but touching each other at this). My room is quite small but has a shower, air conditioning, television(!), double bed, a desk and a bedside table (a bidet in the bathroom, of course, it is french!).

I had a HOT shower (ahhhhhahhh! After the cold ones of the Gambia!) and then had a knock on the door to see that Ben and Kate (more VSO friends from the Gambia) had shown up and were staying in the room next to mine. Other people's rooms (such as Chris') have balconies, mine does not – oh well.

We headed out a short while later for dinner but Christine and Steve (her boyfriend) headed out for drinks first (joining us a bit later). We ate at a place I had been told about by some of the people at work in Banjul – Chez Loutcha. This, I had been told, had “good food, good prices, BIG quantity”. It turns out that this was not an exaggeration with a massive menu and HUGE portions. I started with octopus and had squid for my main course. We were serenaded by a Kora player who Ben & Kate had a conversation with since he spoke Wolof (and Kora players are typically Mandinka) – they spoke to him in Wolof, Mandinka and French (oh my!). We managed to get rid of him with a bit of money put into the hole of instrument.

The restaurant itself is very interestingly decorated with a lot of fake plants, small inter-connected rooms. It was quite busy but the service was very good. Steve and Christine joined us a little later but we left them shortly afterwards – tired after a long day.

⇒ Continue to Saturday, May 11th, 2002 - Dakar, Senegal