Before I left the UK amongst some of the text messages I’d received from Mick was one that said I’d either love Africa or hate it. So far, for me, it’s pretty close to hate. Apart from northern Morocco where it was clean, picturesque, with nice people and as I said quite Turkish since then it’s been grim. Beyond central Morocco it’s difficult to imagine how people live in such conditions. The heat, sandstorms and the environment are just so inhospitable it’s untrue. After about five days of nothing but this it soon made me feel like I’d had enough and of course that included Mauritania which when I finally did pass through a proper sized town in Nouakchott, the poverty and general state of the place was horrendous.
So with some green slowly appearing on the landscape Senegal offered some hope that I’d fall in love with Africa. Nope. After the terrible border crossing I found a guesthouse in St. Louis which was good enough for what I needed. The people there were nice enough and after I checked in we watched a African wrestling final which apparently was having an audience of 45 million people. Two huge guys dressed in traditional tribal bits of cloth and string grabbed at each other for 10 seconds until one fell over and that was that. Cue mass hysteria within the packed stadium and in the streets here and just about everywhere I reckoned. So Senegal then, I packed up and left the guesthouse around 9am and within a kilometer I stopped at a police checkpoint where I was immediately fined for “going too fast.” I decided to stand firm, however after around twenty minutes it was clear that these guys just didn’t care. With my driving license and insurance in their possession it was clear where the balance of power lay. 15 euros this time negotiated down from 45 euros pretty much had me down to my lowest point so far and with a full tank of fuel able to just about carry me across the border some 500km away I intended not to stop in order not to set foot in this terrible place again. Having bad experiences with bent officials is one thing and I know that it’s not a fair way to judge a place or its people but I have to say Senegal didn’t come across as a nice place at all. Don’t get me wrong, I know this is Africa but even in some of the poorest places in the world people still make an effort to be clean and friendly. Not here.Finally, finally the GPS ticked down to less than a hundred km to the elusive Mick with Dr David Levine in the Gambia but first up another border crossing. I must have come across as a right nasty bit of work as scarred from the last episode I treated everyone with distain. However, things were looking up. I didn’t get charged at all on the bent Senegalese side and as for the Gambian side well oh my god the change in people was staggering. English rather than what has been and will mostly be French was the language spoken but more than that the people were clean, very friendly and just generally appeared happy!
By the time I’d ridden the 10km or so to the boat and crossed I had five email addresses and invitations to come again for a holiday and stay with them, go out for drinks, assistance if needed etc etc.
The initial chat that I’d had so far indicated that they were very much proud to be a former English colony and that corruption was not the way things were done. After all this friendliness I made it to Dr Levine’s house and finally met him and Mick. Great guys. Mick is 31, Danish, a former aircraft technician and one of those travelers that wants to try and absorb as much of what he can from a place. David is 60 odd, working on a voluntary project, a biker (GS650) and generally a very interesting guy. I enjoyed a much needed meal, a few beers, bike chat and a travel chat. It seems like the plan is to stay on here for a few days with a few activities planned…things are finally looking up.
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