The Gambia’s Wonderful Hospitality, Spitting Camels, Empty Hotels, and a Racist Tourist
The hotel was empty, like The Shining, but less creepy
It was a holiday early in our marriage, 2001, and we wanted to experience a culture shock. The Gambia delivered that shock with some force. My husband and I were both so uncomfortable upon arrival that we independently wondered how much it would cost to take a flight straight back home. But we got over our nerves and enjoyed the holiday in the end.
Let’s backtrack a little...
We’d booked a holiday in the poorest African nation mainly because it met our modest budget, and we wanted to experience something different.
Someone ran off with my luggage
When we arrived at the airport, we got through the gates, found our luggage, and as we were heading for the exit with our suitcases, a man grabbed my luggage from my hand and ran off with it. I went off in hot pursuit as he headed for the door, and it transpired that he was ‘helping us’, for a ‘tip’ — not trying to steal our stuff.
I grabbed my suitcase from his hand, and we did our own carrying. It wasn’t the best introduction to a country we’d never visited before.
There was a coach waiting for us outside, thank goodness. We put the luggage in the trunk and got on board. We were taken to our hotel, where we disembarked with our suitcases.
Halfway to the accommodation, I realised I’d got the wrong suitcase and went running back to the coach as fast as my legs would carry me, dragging the suitcase, and hoping the coach hadn’t left already. Thank goodness, they were delayed because another customer, who was getting off at the same stop, couldn’t find her suitcase. I’d got it.
Sorry Misses. It looked like ours.
The hotel was empty
The hotel was quite big and the accommodation was OK, but we were one of only about four couples. The hotel was pretty much empty. There were more staff than guests. It was like ‘The Shining’ but less creepy and warmer.
We had our choice of loungers beside the pool. No one else was there. But the other three couples didn’t like the empty hotel atmosphere and threatened to leave, arguing that the budget accommodation didn’t meet their exacting requirements.
As we would have been the only ones left if they’d gone, we all jumped in an overpriced taxi — does no one barter in this place? — to see the other hotel across town. The holiday company said that hotel could accommodate us, if we wanted to move — but it was very similar, so everyone decided to stay where we were.
I actually liked it. Who wants hundreds of people anyway?
The first night’s food was salad, which would have suited me brilliantly, if we hadn’t been told not to eat salad by the holiday company, because the water in which it’s washed may carry bugs that could make us ill.
We passed on the salad and had a bit of bread and cheese. I wished the travel company had communicated their concerns about uncooked food with the hotel because they offered us salad throughout the holiday and it felt a little rude to never eat any. Anyway, I lived on cooked vegetables all week, and it was fine.
This beautiful lady sorted out the bookings and dealt with any queries. They had BBC World News on the television in the hall.
I remember the lizards, too. They were wonderful. Maybe up to 10 inches long, and so cute, running around outside.
Expeditions and camels
We went on a number of expeditions during the course of our week in The Gambia. I remember balking at the cost of the expeditions, which considering we were in Africa, seemed expensive. But we were told it wasn’t safe to leave the hotel on our own, so in fear of our lives going solo, we booked onto all the expeditions.
One expedition was camel riding, which was fabulous! The camels were a bit grumpy and spitty, but seemed in good health.
We did sneak out a couple of times to the local area in the evenings and survived the experience. People were keen to sell us stuff, so I ended up buying a 3-foot carved wooden giraffe from the traders. It now has pride of place in our dining room.
On one of the outings into the villages, I bought a couple of traditional African dresses and accidentally paid six times more than I’d intended, because I got confused about the exchange rate. The lady who sold it to me was happy.
Stupid white male
I don’t know if paying too much for a dress redeemed us at all, because earlier on that trip, a stupid white male had made a remark about seeing monkeys on the road up ahead. We all looked out to get a glimpse and asked, “Where?”
Then he said, “Oh, my mistake — they’re people!” to which there was an outbreak of giggling. It took me a second to realise he was actually being a racist pig. I was appalled. First I thought he was just an idiot, because the people look nothing like monkeys, but then reality kicked in — it was deliberate. He was a racist idiot. I felt embarrassed to be white and hoped they didn’t think we were all like that.
Our gracious hosts said nothing and carried on our tour. I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d ejected him from the bus and left him to find his own way back to the hotel!
Sadly, we didn’t see any monkeys, but we did see some dolphins on a river cruise later in the week.
We went to Lamin Lodge on a little riverboat on one of the excursions.
I was awarded a poster for taking part in the ‘entertainment’— dancing, I think. The poster is now in a frame, hanging on our Dining Room wall.
The ‘entertainment’ made us smile and became a bit of a private joke between my husband and myself. It always meant our hosts for the day did some kind of tribal sounding music on basic instruments, which wasn’t always very good, but was certainly very African.
We usually had a rice and chili meal, or something similar, on these excursions, served up by our hosts.
On one occasion during an excursion, we tried to sit on a beach for a while, but got pestered by people trying to sell us something. They have amazing beaches in The Gambia, but it wasn’t always easy to relax on them. It appears this one ticked some boxes though…
We went to a fish-smoking factory, for want of a better word, which was memorably, not somewhere I’d wish to return. As we exited the building, about a dozen children started following us, all reaching out and holding our hands, or arms, or whatever else they could grab.
They wanted pens, so we gave them all our pens, except for one that my husband was keen to hang onto, ‘otherwise, we’ll have nothing to write with!’ he said.
They would hand us little notes asking for money or items to be posted to them when we got home. We had loads of spare pens at home, so we sent them off in a padded envelope to one of the addresses when we got back.
Definitely a culture shock
Well, we said we wanted a culture shock! It was indeed a shock. I decided to embrace the culture though — I had my hair braided, and wore the local dress.
We found a source of sealed bottled water and managed to not get ill, which was a relief. We’d been warned not to buy bottled water without checking the seal because some people would refill them with water that isn’t safe to drink, and try to sell them to tourists.
We haven’t been back to Africa. I’m not saying we wouldn’t. I’d like to, but we travelled the UK for a while, then I started writing for caravanning magazines in 2012, so we were obliged to use the caravan for our holidays for years, and for that, we stayed in the UK.
Then our passports expired. Then covid came along, and suddenly going on a plane with a load of people and their germs seems unappealing.
© Susie Kearley 2023. All Rights Reserved.
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