Life in Gambia

One day i up and left Senegal by plane to Gambia. It was a dark and stormy night. Just kidding snoop dog; it was an overcast day. It never rained while i was in Senegal, and it was always temperate by the sea, but it was starting to warm up just before i left. I said my thank yous and goodbyes to all my friends and neighbors and family, and we shook with the left hand. Ken taught me that when we shake with the left hand upon departure we ensure that we will see each other again...god willing!

One hour in a small plane later, after scoping out the passengers representing the African international jet set, we disembarked at the tiny airport. On the approach into the airport all i could see was little plots of farm land...with trees in the open spaces. Much greener and more tropical looking than around Dakar...at the airport i was met by Dave and Fiona and their daughter Elizabeth (see photos). I met Dave and Fiona through a group of missionaries in Dakar. I met the group of missionaries through a guy who was riding around the world on a motorcycle (NOT on a mission for the lord). He was staying at the little guesthouse up the street from the Doumbia house, which is owned by my Senegalese friend and dance teacher Allasane from the states. So i met this guy Frank and we got to talking and soon i was preaching and he said hey! i know just the people for you..The god squad! That was his name for the folks i ended up meeting an having fellowship with. Here is a link to their website.
http://freewebs.com/familycaresenegal/

So that's how i ended up with Major Dave and his family. I arrived on may 10. I used my New Zealand passport instead of my American to avoid the 45 dollar visa fee. Gambia is part of the British commonwealth, and any citizens of a commonwealth country (such as NZ) are exempt from needing a visa. My first few days in Gambia were a whirlwind of meeting a fascinating cross section of Gambians and expatriates from all over Africa and the globe. High ranking politicians and police, big business people, ex-prisoners and criminals, dirt poor and dirt rich people, musicians, teachers, pastors, children, and plenty of just regular working family folks. At one party i met a man who is a student in his first year of law school here in Gambia. In fact, its the first year of law school EVER in the Gambia. Brand new. Like Gambia in general. Ten years of intense development fueled by the tourist industry, as well as the migration of villagers into the city.

Gambia when i arrived was dry and dusty and in need of rain, which everybody kept saying was imminent. It has rained a bit since i have been here, and everybody says July is the month. They say when it rains it transforms the land instantly from dirt to grass, from dusty to shiny, from hazy to crystal clear, from mushy yellow clouds to billowy bright white ones...i would like to see that...i would like to go upriver, where the water is filled with crocodiles and hippos, which are far more dangerous...And many species of birds...and monkeys, and big cats and hyenas...rhinos and elephants and lions and giraffes all live farther inland, deep into Mali where the country is more open and free...

Gambia...colonized by the British who ran a slave fort on an island on the river. Where American Alex Haley traced his ancestral ROOTS to a man named Kunta Kinteh in the village of Juffreh, which is now a tourist destination for many Americans seeking their own roots in Africa. Kunta Kinteh, a free Mandinka man who was kidnapped by slave traders and taken to America where he was forced into chattel slavery until his dying day...in Juffreh today you can meet a elder woman named Binta Kinteh...

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me"...(song written by the captain of a slave ship whose conscience finally got the better of him, and he turned the ship around and released the kidnapped people back in Africa...)

Gambia has the most amazingly easy public transportation. For one thing it's a small compact country with only a few main roads and highways. From the suburb of Kerr Serigne you walk about 10 minutes to the end of the line for the little mini van shuttles that run all the way to Serrakunda. The shuttles run every ten minutes all day every day, until around 9 or 10 at night. The cost is 5 dalasi for any length of trip, which is 20 cents USA. You off board by yelling "stop here!" anywhere. You just wave the shuttle down and it will pick u up, anywhere. Now that's what I'M talking about! At the main junctions which lead to different locations than Serrakunda there are regular yellow taxis waiting. These taxis run between the main junctions (generally just a few miles on the open highway) and also cost 5 dalasi for any length of ride. The driver waits for four people to fill his car and drives off. So from Kerr Serigne to Banjul (the capital), which is around 13 miles, you pay 5 for a shuttle to the first junction, 5 for a taxi to the next junction, and then 6 for a larger bus to the city. Just over 1 US dollar for a two hour (door to door) 25 mile roundtrip to the capital. It's a pubic transportation wet dream. Late at night, or whenever you want, the taxis charge for a "town trip", which is a personalized ride to your front door. That price is negotiable, as like in Senegal the taxis have no meter. Generally you can get a town ride for 50 D or less.

As we drove from the airport on that first day i noticed that Gambia was nothing like urbane Dakar. Here was much more rural and rough around the edges. Poorer. But in a country of 1.5 million there is an almost non-existant murder rate. Maybe 10 per year? (a wild guess, someone google it). Contrast that with Oakland California which has a population of .5 million people, a third that of Gambia. Oakland has a murder rate of about 3 per week. Just about every other day someone is murdered in Oakland. Probably 90 percent are young men of color, primarily African American. Lets say that of the 150 murders a year, 100 of the victims are young black men. Oakland is about 33 percent black, which is approx 165,000. Half of those are men, and maybe half of those 80,000 are young. Thats 40,000 young black men in Oakland. And every year, 100 are murdered (usually by each other). Now, compare that to UC Berkeley, which has a student body of 30,000, with probably another 10,000 employees. Thats 40,000 people. If just ONE of those people gets murdered by someone else on the campus, it's a big huge story. If three murders happened in one year it might be considered a national story, as in WHAT THE HELL IS GOING WRONG AT UC BERKELEY? If it happened every year, 3 or 4 murders, inside jobs so to speak, it would be considered a disgrace to the city of Berkeley and the state of California in general. There would be heavy police presence and massive FBI involvement. Parents would keep their students home. But 2 people PER WEEK are murdered out of 40,000 in Oakland, every single week, every single year, and the story gets buried in the back pages of the Oakland tribune. Barely a notice. Just a shrug and a "oh well, what can you do." Interesting, that's all i'm saying.

But my first day in Gambia was different. Just the day before, a young man in Serrakunda died. The next day, as we drove from the airport in the midday, the young men of Serrakunda were rioting, standard issue stuff, you know, breaking windows, burning tires. Nice intro...

Have a beautiful day or night.