DAY 64, Sunday March 19, Banjul, The Gambia
Bronx and Ukraine have dropped “The” but despite what’s printed on the map, we landed in The Gambia. We were welcomed ashore with much local hoopla: a drum ensemble with police whistle obbligato, a three-girl backup group, two spirits of the natural world in full costume, and a jester/MC, who collected donations. Fun!
The locals provided a shuttle bus. It was originally intended to take us to the Albert Market, but that’s under major renovation. So it took us on a little tour, ending in the craft market, and staying right there until we were ready to leave.
We were told that Banjul has a sewage system and electricity (I don’t remember anyone saying running water.) Beyond that, what we saw was the epitome of poverty. The market we stopped at was a block-size collection of small, tumble-down wooden shacks. In one corner was a garbage heap with two resident vultures. The market also sold some vegetables and fly-blown fish, but we passed those up.
I stopped in one stall selling African-style masks and other wooden things. I admired a small bowl. The owner suggested the price of $50, Mary countered with $5. There was much spirited haggling. He tried to school Mary in the art of negotiation. More the fool he. We settled on a larger bowl for $15, which I thought was fair, though Mary could easily have carried on. The lady next door sold Mary a basket, and knew what she was up against. At the end, the lady gave Mary a little bracelet as a gift. I think she enjoyed the exchange between Mary and her neighbor.
The shuttle bus made a point of staying right at the entrance while all this was going on.
Arriving back at the ship we were greeted by music again. The police band. They were a morose bunch, the exact opposite of our welcoming committee. You’ve seen them. They have been featured in a number of comic movies.
Mary saw a couple of other wooden items that would make good souvenirs; $7.
As we were getting off the ship a couple about our age were just walking up the gangplank. The wife vehemently warned us not to go into the shuttle bus, “It was awful!” What did she expect? Then it occurred to me that this ship is a cocoon, a floating country club. And while in South America the enrichment talks were about local history and such, and the ship brought aboard a group of naturalists when we went to Antarctica, but those passengers were just not prepared for visiting a third-world country. All the recent enrichment lectures were about WWII and the history of Western pop music. Not really useful, when approaching this part of the world.