Palamir to Gambia Journey
We left our campsite in Paramir at 7am to get to the Gambia border as soon as possible. There is great uncertainty about borders in Africa. You’d be through some of them as quick as a rat up a drainpipe while others might take the best part of a day. Our Morocco to Mauritania border was an example of almost a full day hanging around in the baking sun. We were hoping the same wouldn’t happen here. The driver, Jordan, heard on the overlander grapevine that the border nearest to us was notorious for graft, corruption and inefficiency. We would also have to catch a ferry over the river. We decided to drive 100km south and use a different land frontier that was less used. This was a good decision. We were in and out quicker than a fiddler’s elbow.
Like nearly everything in Africa, the border post was vibrant, noisy, colourful and seemingly chaotic. So much life and energy. There were hawkers selling beads and trinkets as well as clothes and small household items. They weren’t as in your face as the Arab countries further north.
(Please click on any thumbnail above to enlarge the whole gallery for full sliding photos)
We also got an uncomfortable view of child poverty. A gaggle of about a dozen small kids, 6 to maybe 10 yo gathered around us begging. They didn’t say anything but just held out their hands and pointed to their mouths. They looked grey and seemed to take up less space that other Africans. It was heartbreaking seeing the desperation in their faces. One overweight westerner, not me, was eating a baguette stuffed with cheese and meat. They didn’t take their eyes off him while he was eating. He seemed completely oblivious to this. I wanted to give him a kick up the arse until I realised I was displacing anger at my own hypocritical cowardice. The dictum was ‘don’t give to one or they’ll all swamp you’ So what if they do. A moment discomfort to practice generosity. I felt around in my pockets to see if I had any coins to give them. Their eyes immediately pivoted to my pocket and to me. I just had a few 100 Franc coins, worth about 15¢ each. I gave them to the kids which they accepted with a sort of neutrality. I felt worse as my motives were mixed and I had hundreds of €uro and U$ dollars in my pocket. Also, as an Irish citizen, I’m deeply uncomfortable with the whole benevolent white bwana colonial mindset. I feel more African than European. As yer man in The Committments movie said “the Irish are the blacks of Europe”. We moved on and soon forgot. I wonder where they are now
The journey to the campsite was very long and hot. I was next to the window facing the sun so it was like being in a sauna inside a greenhouse inside an oven in hell. We got lost at the end due to roadworks and a spotty GPS signal. We spend ages bumping down narrow beaten dirt roads until finally some locals helped us find our destination. We arrived at the site at around 7.30pm haggard and bedraggled.
We pitched our tents, setup the field kitchen and the cook group started cooking. Before you could say “is there wifi here” or “are there mosquitoes around” they had prepared a delicious curry. It was now around 8.30pm so, although I was tempted, I didn’t have seconds as I didn’t want to sleep on a full stomach. Then, off to bed as we were all exhausted by the days driving.
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