January 31, 2024 – Banjul, the Gambia
Feb 11th, 2024 by rallyadmin
The reason for staying outside and south of Dakar was to stay closer to Banjul so that we would have enough time to arrive earlier in rather than later in the afternoon. Last year’s check in was pretty chaotic and, though we are hoping that things will be smoother, earlier will allow for more time to smooth out the wrinkles.
This year, though, we are crossing the Gambia River using the Barra ferry. Last year we went across the river using the new Senegambia bridge, also known as the Trans-Gambia Bridge, south of Farafenni, the Senegal/Gambia border crossing.
The Barra ferry is a considerable more direct route to Banjul than the SeneGambia bridge route. Banjul is near the ocean close to the mouth of the Gambia River. And the route from Dakar to Barra goes to Kaolack and then south directly to Barra. The bridge route, on the other hand, takes you quite a ways to the east, crosses the river and then has to come all the way back west to Banjul. It is quite a long diversion and the route back west last year had horrendous traffic.
Of course, there is the minor problem that there used to be two ferries working the route. But because one of the ferries sank some months ago, now there is only one ferry. None of us are talking too much about the sinking. We don’t have to. Everyone is all too familiar with the cliché of sinking ferries in third world countries. We’re all using the same level of denial that allowed us to get a good night’s sleep at Tis-n-test 4 months after a devastating and deadly earthquake. Some times denial is all you’ve got. But first we have to get through the border, always a high point of the day.
We have already heard that Teams 1 and 4, the Crumbies, have had serious problems trying to cross from Senegal into Gambia. They left early and haven’t waited for our Senegal and our Gambia fixers to smooth the way and take care of the border formalities.
We understand that the Gambian border officials, after having been told that by the teams that they are going straight to the hotel and not having the assistance of Sam Jobe’s agents to smooth the way, have affixed GPS trackers to both vehicles to ensure that the teams do, in fact, go straight to the hotel and leave the vehicles there. In order for any of our vehicles to travel at all in Gambia we have had to get special permission from the Gambian government which is handled by the agents. This is done to make sure that the vehicles aren’t sold privately in the Gambia without the import taxes being paid. Apparently, the Gambian official are concerned about the two teams’ intentions.
The fact that the team’s vehicles have had the trackers affixed has caused Clemo to contact Sam Jobe and as the obvious WTF? Sam assures Clemo that this is not supposed to any of the cars that his agents are shepherding through entry customs and that he will contact the appropriate official to verify. That is why we are paying the fixers AND trying to stay on schedule.
We arrive at the Senegalese exit customs just after the first couple of our cars. The border is the usual chaotic mess with some trouble first trying to find the correct procedure and offices to exit Senegal and then having the exact same problem trying to enter the Gambia. Probably the oddest thing about this border crossing is the these two countries may have to absolute shortest no man’s land separating the border. As a matter of fact it is so small as to be non-existent. And we seem to have arrived just as one of the offices is on lunch break. Or something.
While we are waiting to figure out the procedure to exit Senegal, one of Sam Jobe’s agents is sent over the border to change money into dalasi, the Gambian currency, for us to have to buy ferry tickets on the Barra ferry. He’s doing a land office business until he is spotted by an over-achieving Senegalese border policeman who loudly asks what the money-changer is doing which is blatantly obvious, he’s not hiding what he is doing at all.
The money-changer tells him that he is changing money and the policeman orders him to move about 10 meters. Just we get back to changing money the policeman arrives again and asks what currency he is changing. When the changer tells him that he is changing CFA into Gambian dalasi, the policeman yells that he/we have to move still another 10 meters which apparently puts us over the border into the Gambia though I don’t know how anyone can tell because there is no obvious border, no man’s land or even a gate. Did I mention that other money changers, street sellers and beggars go back and forth the supposed border without any regard to the border at all. If you have the patience, the ability to suspend reality and, above all, love chaos, this is the place for you. I love it.
Just we we think we are done with entry customs, one of Sam’s agents collects all of us and brings us to a small office and starts making a list of each person in the group with each person’s name passport number and nationality. Luckily, before this gets very far, Clemo arrives and produces a spreadsheet that we had made in Newton Abbot the day we left that had a complete list of just that information for just this eventuality. Back to the cars.
We finally get most of the cars and people across the border and on our way to the ferry. The next stop is the ticket office for the ferry which is still a couple of kilometers from the ferry where we will all have to but one ticket for the vehicle and driver, 800 dalasi, and another ticket, 35 dalasi, for each passenger. But first we have to wait for all of the cars to arrive at the ticket office and then we will buy the tickets and head for the ferry.
That sounds simple enough but soon confusion reigns. (What a surprise!) First, the plan is for everyone to go to the ticket window and buy individual tickets but soon that idea is scrapped and replaced by a plan to gather all of the money and buy one ticket for the group. I start making a list of cars, team numbers and how many occupants in each car. But just as I finish the list we are back to Plan A, everyone buys their own ticket.
I head to the ticket window and the plan changes back again to Plan B, we pay once for everyone. Fortunately, I still have the list and start collecting money at the ticket window from each team. Eventually, we get all of the money for each car and passengers, count and recount and recount and recount the money and get the tickets printed. Then three more teams show up and we go through the same procedure for the last three (though much more quickly for these last three) And we’re off to the ferry in a 15 car convoy.
Surprisingly, staging for the ferry loading goes quite calmly and easily. We wait for the ferry (the one that hasn’t sunk, yet) to arrive and as soon as the incoming passengers depart we are immediately loaded, followed by some lorries and a bus or two and the usual hodgepodge of people animals, mostly goats and chickens. And then we are off.
Standing in the front of the ferry, there is a diverse collection of white tourists and dark skinned local people. I look up and there is an occupancy sign on the front of the main deck:
The sinking ferry cliché comes roaring to mind again. Gotta love the ability to denial reality, second only to patience as the most useful trait.
While crossing, we invade the captain’s helm station and get a long description of how he actually operates the ferry. The ferry captain and his crew seem only too happy to talk and explain the operation of the ferry. I notice that even in the midst of the conversation, the ferry captain doesn’t look away from the course to the other side of the river. That pushes the sinking cliché back a bit. And then we land and disembark. Just a few more kilometers to the end of the trip at the Bamboo Village.
Obi-wan