7th May - Basse Sante Su

(Finally have a decent connection, so have dumped the last few days' photos here.)

After the heat of yesterday, which was just too much to be pleasant, we decided to aim to travel mostly in the cooler morning, then stop at the heat of the day, and move on again in the afternoon. We said goodbye to our friends in Farafenni and headed out. We tried to fill up with fuel on the way, but the petrol station was out of petrol. We drove off and were immediately shouted at by the police; we turned round into the little side road the station was in, and they pulled us in to their police office, said we were going down a road reserved for ambulances, and told me they were going to take me to court! I thought they were really after a bribe, so I protested that there was no way we could have known about the road. They leafed through our passports for a long while, then said they’d let us off, as it was our first time in the town. I wonder whether the fact we have so many stamps in our passports persuaded them that we weren’t going to be a pushover.

On we went towards Wassu, one of the sights to see in the north of the country because it has a Neolithic stone circle complex, rather along the lines of Stonehenge but not so impressive. The road to Wassu varied from tarmac to sand to ditches, and we had to divert off the road in several places. We stopped to empty two jerry cans of fuel into our tanks en-route, and we arrived there at about mid-day. The stone circle complex is just to the north-east of the village, and was surprisingly easy to find, although as usual, you’d struggle to get there without a 4wd. We got a friendly welcome from the custodian, paid our 100 Dalasi to get in, having parked under a tree, and went round the museum.

Despite being panned by the Lonely Planet, which is always scathing of cultural things, the little museum was quite well put together. It showed the history of the stone circles in the greater area and how they were made. Interestingly, Neolithic round here means about 500-1200AD. Rather like we were building Stonehenge when the Egyptians were lolling around outside their huge pyramids, the Ghana and Mali civilisations were putting up stone circles while we were fighting the French at Hastings. We signed the visitor’s book; the last visitors were 5 days ago, and before that, three weeks before. It’s the low season!

From there we went to look round the circles themselves. Each circle was about 3m across and the stones were up to a metre high, occasionally higher. They were used sometimes as burial mounds, but not always. Three young children struck up on a set of xylophones as we got near; they were a bit haphazard, but quite rhythmic. We took the usual set of photos. The custodian asked if we were going onwards, but we said we were planning to stay around for a while, because of the heat, so he invited us to sit with him outside his office. Nicki collapsed in the truck, but I sat and talked to the custodian, who spoke excellent English and was fascinating to talk to. He was Mandinka, but had a Fulla companion who he referred to as “the old man”. He explained that the various tribes in the country coexist in total harmony, regardless of ethnic background or religion – what a breath of fresh air!

I said we were learning the drum, and asked if he could play – everybody here can, of course. So we got out our drum, which apparently is a popular instrument with the Fulla, and the old man played some interesting rhythms, totally different to the ones we’d heard on the coast. I picked up some of the easier stuff, and it was fascinating to see the different way the drum could be used.

Across the other side of the compound, three young Fulla women were doing their weekly washing, which they did most efficiently and effectively, before hanging it on the barbed wire fence to dry, which didn’t take long at all. One of them brought me some cups of the strong, sweet Gambian tea, which generally comes in twos or threes (it’s rude to refuse before your third cup). Later I wandered over to watch what they were doing, as I needed to pick up some tips! I hit upon the idea of asking them if we could pay them to do our washing, and the custodian translated for me. They were quite happy to, and did a great job of it all, although my white towel is now rather blue! I took some photos of the three of them, and printed them; they were quite delighted, and thought it was great fun, so of course then I had to print a photo for the custodian, a photo for the old man, one for the xylophone player, and one for the guy who had turned up and was making tea. We paid the women 100 Dalasi for the washing, which the custodian thought was quite generous.

The three boys were hanging around, having fetched some jerry cans of water on a donkey cart. I offered them some empty plastic bottles, and was nearly trampled in the stampede. It’s funny how something inconsequential to us could be so important to them! As the afternoon wore on, the custodian was slightly irked by a westerner who was wandering around in the bush near the compound, thinking he was trying to see the stones without paying. I intercepted the guy and talked to him for a while; he was Welsh, living in the village, four months through a two year contract with VSO as a teacher trainer. He was being driven mad by the heat, so was wandering around doing some twitching. He tipped us off that Bassé, where we were planning to head, was even hotter than Wassu, but that there is a guy opposite the Shell petrol station who has the only ice cream machine in Gambia!

The day was wearing on, so we got on our way again, having spent a nice afternoon with the people at the stone circle. The drive to Bassé involved two ferry crossings; when we got to the first one, we didn’t realise it was a ferry, so spent a while looking around for the road until some local lads showed us what to do. You have to toot your horn to summon the ferry, which was just big enough for us and two other vehicles, although it seemed a bit touch and go. This took us to the island in the Gambia river which hosts Georgetown, which claims to be the centre of the slave trade, but we’ve also heard that very little slave trading was actually done there. On the other side of the island we took a chain ferry, which was even smaller, and only just accommodated the truck and one other vehicle, to the south bank, where we drove to Bassé. There were many police checkpoints on this section of road, but mostly the police are just friendly and interested. It must be a boring existence from them. We’d learned from Saikou that in the height of the heat of the day, you can usually ignore the police checkpoints, as it’s too hot for them to bother. I watched the fuel needle on the truck plumb new depths, keeping my fingers crossed that we would make it to Bassé without running out. Evidently it runs OK on rust and petrol vapour, because it kept going.

We eventually got to Bassé as darkness started to fall. The Shell station, which is the only one open in the evening, didn’t have any petrol either, but we parked there to visit the legendary ice cream machine opposite. The guy who has set it up is an inspired entrepreneur. We were quite happy to pay 40 Dalasi (80p) for a large cupful of delightfully frozen Mr Whippy. In fact I had two! We asked if he knew of anywhere we could camp, and he suggested we followed him on his motorbike to a hotel on the other side of town – just as well, as we’d never have found it on our own, especially in the dark. It was 250 Dalasi for a room, or 150 Dalasi to park in the compound, so we went for the cheap option, as the rooms were just as hot as the truck, and there is no electricity tonight. I tried to get the truck through the gateway, but it was too tall for their signboard, so we’ve parked just outside on the road, and they’ll keep an eye on us for 100 Dalasi.

It’s almost too hot to consider eating, but Nicki forced down half a plateful of tuna & sweetcorn pasta, and I had the same mix in a baguette. The truck peaked at 45° in the early afternoon today, when it was parked in the shade with the engine turned off! We’re sat outside in the dark, because it’s cooler out here, and Nicki’s reading while I update the blog. There’s a little frog on the sand just next to us, mopping up some of the insects.