Travel report: (the) Gambia

Date of visit: February 2019

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“Where’s your visa?” the customs officer asked me while inspecting my passport. “I see here a visa from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Guinea and Sierra Leone. Where’s the visa for The Gambia?” He was looking at me and I first thought it was a bad joke. “As a Swiss I don’t need a visa for The Gambia,” I answered. “Of course you need a visa,” said the officer. “I am sure that I don’t!” I countered. The guy started laughing out loud. “Hey, there’s one from Switzerland. He thinks he doesn’t need a visa,” he shouted to a colleague.

When I was preparing my overland journey from Senegal to Gambia, I read several times that the customs officers in Gambia would like to squeeze a few bucks out of the tourists. For example, I read that you should have only one mobile phone with you, otherwise you will be forced to pay taxes on the second one. They justify this with the fact that two mobile phones are not for the personal use but intended for sale.

That is of course absolute nonsense and does not appear in any of the country’s codes. However, I always travel with two smart phones for the case that one breaks or gets stolen. Therefore, as a precaution, I had both in my pocket in case they would screen my luggage.

They didn’t open my luggage though, they wanted to see my visa. I was led into an office and the whole discussion started all over again with a new customs officer. “Where is your visa?” – “I don’t need one.” – “Of course you need one. You are from Switzerland.” – “Sir, I am very positive that I don’t need a visa.”

I was still thinking that this was a stupid game. The border official, however, was slowly losing his patience. “Well, I say you need a visa. And you say you don’t need one. One of us is lying. Are you telling me I’m a liar?” I have learned to deal with such situations with humor, because I still firmly believed that I was being ripped off here. “I’m afraid you’re lying, yes!’ I said laughingly.

The same dialogue happened again two more times in two other offices. Seriously, they were more or less the exact same discussions I had before. Now, in the fourth conversation, the border official took out a list. “Look, here are all the nationalities that don’t need a visa and all the nationalities that need a visa.”

This guy started to go country by country with me. When he arrived at some point on the seventh page of his list, Switzerland, together with Bulgaria, Macedonia and two other Eastern European countries, appeared among the European nationalities that need a visa.

I tried again to explain that I had checked four internet sources in advance and everyone confirmed that I would not need a visa. “Listen, we’re not working with the Internet here. We have this list and that’s it.” I tried to argue that the list was probably outdated, but he wasn’t interested in it at all. I eventually bit the bullet and paid 65 Euros for a visa on arrival.

If you suspect corruption, it is helpful to ask for a receipt. He gave it to me as a matter of course. My luck in misfortune was that I had exactly – really exactly – 70 Euros in my wallet. If I had not been able to pay the sum, I would have had to go back to the nearest ATM, which wasn’t in the proximity. (Before you ask: the guy didn’t know how much money I had when he quoted the price.)

Anyway, here I was. In my 82nd country. And for the first time I appeared without a visa at a border, for which I would have needed one. Also a nice premiere. I still doubt that you need a visa for the Gambia. And the more I read about it, the more I think that this was a blatant scam that happens regularly at the border between Senegal and the Gambia.

From Senegal to the Gambia

The border control was not the only tedious part of my journey to Gambia. It took me a good four hours from Senegal to the border. All this crammed with seven other people in one car.

At the border a young guy approached me. He introduced himself as Moussa from Guinea and was my travel companion from that time on to Banjul, the capital of the Gambia.

Traveling with this guy made the trip a little easier. Now I was no longer the white man to whom you can charge four times the price. After all, they must have charged the same price to Moussa. Moussa negotiated a pretty good price for the taxi from the border to the ferry terminal. Banjul, like many West African capitals, is located on a peninsula that had to be reached by ship if you came by land from the north.

While we were waiting for the taxi to leave, an obviously mentally handicapped man wandered around our car. Suddenly, I saw the man collapse and have an epileptic seizure. I couldn’t believe my eyes when after a short time a kind of medicine man appeared and let drops of water from a tiny bottle fall on the man’s forehead.

Of course, that didn’t help. The man remained lying on the ground and did not stop flinching. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to do when someone has an epileptic seizures, so I could not help. But it was immediately clear to me that any droplets were the wrong approach.

We reached the ferry terminal 20 minutes later and there was total chaos. The entrance and exit seemed to be the same gate and people stormed through from both sides. As a result, terminal staff kept closing the gate with force. People cursed on both sides and tried again and again to squeeze through the small opening.

The ferry was no less chaotic. Thousands of people and some vehicles were on the gigantic boat. Fighting for every inch of space, people came on board and everyone tried to get a seat as quickly as possible.

The ferry journey took about 30 minutes. During this time Moussa made a new acquaintance with a local lady. I also saw a 65-year-old European woman hand in hand with a 40-year younger African strolling along the deck. A little taste of what I would see more often in the next two days.

As soon as we got out we were surrounded by taxi drivers. Moussa asked one of them how much the trip to Kololi, where I had my hotel, would cost. The taxi driver asked for 400 Dalasi, which is about 8.50 Dollars. For Moussa, this price was an outrageous impudence. I finally agreed, as the price for a half-hour trip seemed reasonable. I just wanted to be in my resort as soon as possible.

Gambia… what?

A friend wrote me on Instagram that, thanks to my profile, he is learning about countries he didn’t even know they existed. Therefore, I give hereby a small introduction to the country The Gambia.

The Gambia is the smallest country on mainland Africa and completely surrounded by Senegal. Moreover, the Gambia’s outline looks a little bit strange. It’s just a narrow strip around the river Gambia. These boundaries were defined by Western countries (like all boundaries in Africa). In The Gambia’s case, France gave the United Kingdom around 320km of the Gambia River to control back in 1889. 15 years later, the final boundaries were drawn. The Gambia now was the nearest British colony to the UK.

The Gambia is not exactly a destination for mass tourism. A little more than 100,000 tourists come here every year, more than half are from Great Britain. The country is famous for its beaches, but it’s also a destination for female sex tourists. I will come back to that later…

By the way, the Gambia made it to the (Western) news because of a constitutional crisis in 2017. It all started in December 2016 after the presidential elections. President Yahya Jammeh lost the polls after reigning the country for 22 years.

What followed was a typical African politics story: Mr. Jammeh first accepted his defeat, but claimed one week later that voter fraud cost him the election and he would not resign voluntarily. He finally relinquished his power when soldiers of Senegal, Nigeria and other African countries surrounded the Gambia and forced him to do so. All tourists in the country have been evacuated during this crisis.

A disappointing resort and sleazy nightlife

My accommodation in the Gambia was supposed to be the best during this West Africa trip, as I booked an expensive resort for two days. However, the hotel was a big disappointment right from the beginning. My room was more of a 2-star standard. The handle of the balcony door fell off the first time I touched it, the fridge was empty and even the complimentary water promised to me at the reception was missing.

What bothered me the most was that there was neither soap nor shampoo. “Uhm, we don’t provide that,” the lady at the reception told me. “You are a five-star resort and you don’t provide soap and shampoo? You can’t be serious,” I replied. She said she’d see what she could do. Of course I haven’t heard anything more about this.

At 10:00 PM, Moussa picked me up at the hotel. He had brought someone else with him: Yussuf, a local. Together we went to the famous Gambia strip, the entertaining district of Kololi. Kololi is a district of Serrekunda and the most touristy place in the whole country. There are almost as many white people as black people here.

Yussuf took us to a crowded bar with mainstream music. We ordered some drinks and it didn’t take long, until a woman approached our table. I already had a suspicion. “What is your job?” I asked after 2-3 sentences. “I’m a hairdresser,” she replied. It seemed to be the standard answer to this question. Every woman, who came to our table, seemed to be a hairdresser.

For those who don’t know: Hairdresser is the unofficial code for prostitute in Africa. I have already had this experience in other African countries. This continent is full of hairdressers who go out in the evening. So if you’re not sure who you’re talking to, you should just ask about their profession.

At some point, we ordered the bill. As a matter of course Yussuf said that I should take over his beer. Aha. Now some things became clear to me. ‘Le blanc’ is supposed to finance the evening tonight (I write ‘le blanc’ because it is a common term in West Africa, although Gambia is English-speaking). Nevertheless, I paid the 2 dollars for his beer.

We went to a reggae club on the beach after that. But it was no longer in Kololi but in another town. 100 Dalasi (~2 USD) cost the taxi ride. Somewhat stupidly I asked: “how do we do it with the pay? Do we share the bill?” Yussuf denied it. Only one should pay. “It’s easier that way,” he said.

I was the first one to enter the club. The entrance fee was 100 Dalasi. In order not to have to pay for everyone, I scurried right in and immediately went to the bar. Of course it didn’t take long until heard Yussuf’s voice asking me if I could come to the door quickly. “We still need 100 Dalasi for the entrance,” he said. I finally got annoyed. “Listen, I won’t pay you the whole evening,” I replied. “But we came here together and this is how it works,” he answered succinctly. I finally gave him the dollar, but I knew I’d be leaving right away.

Of course I also paid for the taxi back. Not that it was a lot, but it’s a matter of principle. If I want to invite someone, I do it on my own initiative and not because someone takes it for granted.

I went back alone to the strip and ended the evening with another beer. The nightlife there can be summarized relatively simply: 60-year-old men, some with hearing aid, sit at the bar surrounded by hairdressers. There’s a lot going on, it’s alive, but basically it’s just a place where sex tourists can have their party.

Resort life and sex tourism

Since the resort cost me a lot, I wanted to take advantage of it. The resort ground was quite large, it even had its own golf course. But I went to the beach that belonged to the hotel and hung around a bit.

But I didn’t really fit in with the guests in this resort. I took some photos with my tripod when a security man came to me. “This is a private property. You cannot take pictures here!” I then explained to him that I was a guest at this resort, whereupon he said that in this case I could do anything I wanted. But of course, I had neither white hair nor a beer belly. I definitely looked different than the other guests.

Meanwhile I saw again two old, overweight women walking hand in hand with two young local men along the beach. Two ladies looking for some love from a young Gambian beach boy. I walked along the beach myself and ended up at the neighboring hotel. A Gambian woman, about 40 years old, greeted me and said that she would offer massages. “I can give you back massage, leg massage and also “nice” massage,” she winked at me. “Okay, I understand…,” I replied.

In addition, two other salesmen tried to sell me tours for the monkey park right next door and for other activities. They did it in a rather aggressive way. I briefly looked at their brochures and then walked away. “So, what time do you want me to pick you up for the monkey park?” – “Not interested,” I said as I walked away.

In general, I found the locals in the Gambia very intrusive. Somehow it was understandable. As soon as a country becomes touristy, the level of harassment increases for the traveler. I imagine Kenya in a similar way. The Gambia was my 13th country in Africa and from the obtrusiveness of the natives only Egypt was more annoying.

Although I have become an experienced globetrotter, I occasionally fall into the trap. In Kololi, it happened several times that someone approached me on the street. I like to talk to locals, but it usually didn’t take two minutes until it became a sales talk. That’s why – as hard as it may sound – you’re actually an idiot if you don’t ignore the people but get involved with them. I think this is a pity, but it is how it works here.

And don’t get me wrong. The Gambia is a poor country and not everyone benefits from the rich white man visiting their country. Without knowing the exact unemployment rate, I am convinced that it is high. 100,000 tourists a year are not enough to get 2 million Gambians a job.

That’s why, as an unemployed Gambian, I would throw myself at the white guests in the same way. Nevertheless, it is annoying for the traveler and some people may be overwhelmed if the local tries to make them feel guilty telling them they cannot feed their wife and baby because of them.

After having lunch in the strip, I went back to the resort where I was upset again that the resort was not worth the money I paid for two nights. Nobody made my room, there was dirt everywhere and also parts of my shower looked damaged. Looking back, I would have preferred a cheap hotel.

In the evening I walked back to the strip when I suddenly heard someone shout “Nico!!”. It was Yussuf. The last person I wanted to see. He asked me why I didn’t text him, although I promised him to do so the night before. After last night I was fed up with this guy and so I didn’t get back to him.

“Shall I join you?” he asked. “You can, but you pay for your own drinks,” I replied. When we went to a bar, he came up with a story that he could get money on Monday in two weeks and then pay me back the drinks. I said that I would give him exactly one dollar for one beer and that was it. So it was no surprise that he left after the beer.

In the end, Yussuf is just a moocher who looks around the Gambia strip for tourists who pay him to eat and drink. As hard as it may sound, 99 out of 100 people who approach you in this region do not want your friendship but your money.

I spent my last night again in the strip, where my patience was strongly challenged several times by the locals. After two days I definitely had enough of this place. There were even two moments the next day when I left – one with a taxi driver and one in an airport bar – where I briefly lost my temper. It was time to move on.

Is the Gambia worth a trip?

First of all, I would like to emphasize that I wasn’t much on a discovery tour in the Gambia, but lived more or less like a package tourist. However, 99% of all travelers who visit this country do so.

The tourism scene takes place mainly in Serrekunda with its focus on Kololi. Even in Banjul, the capital of the Gambia, only a few travelers stay overnight and I don’t even want to talk about the interior of the country. Only absolute hardcore travelers go further east than Banjul.

And now to the most important question: is the Gambia worth it? For me personally no. Although I hate to say it, the people are annoying, sex tourism is rampant and there is not much to do in the country. Plus, the people who work at the border are crooks.

Epilogue: they will kill you in Guinea!

On my last evening in Gambia I met another tourist in the bathroom of a bar. A Spaniard. I told him that I would go to Guinea the next day. “Guinea-Bissau?” he asked me. “No, to Conakry,” I replied.

His eyes became big. “You’re going to Conakry?” – “Yes, why?” – “Don’t go!” He whispered the last words and shook his head. “Of course I will go. Why shouldn’t I?” I replied. “Don’t go! They will kill you!” I could see the fear in his eyes. He asked again if I was sure that I was going to Guinea-Conakry and not Guinea-Bissau, which I affirmed. “Do you know someone in Conakry? he asked. “No. – “You go to Conakry without knowing anyone? You are crazy!!!”

We parted ways after this short conversation. I have no idea what the guy experienced in Conakry, but it was obviously not too nice. Anyway, that was certainly not what I wanted to hear the day before my trip to my next country…

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Find the trip reports of the other countries I’ve visited here!