On Sunday, Lucy Ellie and I planned a day’s visit to Farafenni, north of the River Gambia where we could meet up with three friends living and working in Kerewan and do some unusual Christmas shopping.
The journey, we estimated, would take about two hours, so we set off at 9a.m. beginning with the ten minute walk down to the Soma gely-gely park. Even this part of the journey took twice the time expected as we met many teachers we know, walking towards us on their way to Mansa Konko for training, despite it being a Sunday. In typical Gambian style we were greeted warmly, making an excellent start to our day. Eventually we got to the gely gelies but decided upon a Sept Plas (7 seater) instead, as it was just about to leave. The driver shot off at high speed which was both alarming and uncomfortable due to the uneven road surface. There was nothing we could do except anticipate each successive bump and brace ourselves, all the while wishing we had not chosen to sit at the very back. Miraculously, we got to the river in one piece. We swiftly paid the driver and headed off.
Manoeuvring our way through the crowds along the quay side bitiks, we found the ferry ticket “office” somewhere in the middle. Luckily Lucy knew where and what it was: a rectangular hole about 50 cms by 40 cms, at shin height, below a boarded up window in the side of a building. Lucy is tall and so had to crouch down very low and tip her head to one side to purchase three ferry tickets from a man, seated in an almost basement room.. It looked so bizarre, I felt we had all been suddenly “flue powdered” into Diagon Alley (Harry Potter). Our tickets cost only D5 each, about 9p. When we got to the water’s edge we could see that the ferry was stationary on the far bank. We had time for breakfast! Ellie spotted a stall nearby where a woman was serving egg tapalata: two hard boiled eggs with mayonnaise, dusted with hot red pepper in half soft baguette type bread. One bite into the deliciously fresh ingredients made us realize just how hungry we were but half way through we stopped. There, just a few metres away was a boatman, encouraging would-be passengers to pay an extra D10 to get into his motor powered long boat avoiding the long wait for the ferry. A few men had already boarded by climbing gingerly over the planks which made for bench style seating and settling in the middle of the boat. We were encouraged not to venture so far but to sit near the driver himself on a plank/seat designed for three. This was too good an offer to refuse and so easy! All we had to do was carefully climb aboard, move a little to our right and sit down. As the boat filled to capacity with about 20 passengers, the driver, Lamin, asked whether the two younger women with me were married. This is not an uncommon approach here. I assumed a captain’s prerogative (as we were aboard a vessel) and immediately “married” off both friends, imaginatively speaking. Lamin expressed regret, saying he really did need a well paid wife! I explained that VSO volunteers did not meet this criterion.
In the middle of a more easy going conversation, Lamin pulled on the chord to start the engine and gently turned the boat around to start the crossing. The boat sat very low in the water and just as I realised how wide and deep The River Gambia is, I noticed that the other passengers, all Gambian men, were each wearing a life jacket. I looked down under the seat for ours. Not only were there no life jackets, there was no floor. The hull of the boat was exposed, save for about 40 cms of water sloshing to the rhythm of the engine. The life vests must have been issued on entry! A lesson for next time! All we could do on this occasion was finish our tapalata breakfast and cross our fingers. The crossing only took 15 minutes or so and soon we were at the north bank. Once on the other side, the boat was berthed, bow in, due to limited space! This meant that our easy boarding was more than compensated by a challenging disembarkation. Lucy put her back pack on securely and Ellie and I wore our bags like satchels, the straps around our necks and under one arm. We began to climb over the planks, positioning our hands and feet with care but after only a matter of seconds we risked losing our balance and had to pause. The men in front of us were in a rush and went lumbering off, making the boat rock alarmingly. We waited, holding onto the side. When everything settled down, we continued our exit, climbing on and over the seats, sometimes using the narrow piece of wood around the side of the boat as a purchase point for our feet. All the while the absence of the floor allowed us a view of the water filled hull. One slip risked possible injury and the certainty of feet and trousers in a very unpleasant condition for the rest of the day.
But we made it and went on to enjoy a wonderful day. However we made the decision to return home by ferry!
During our time in Farrafeni we all took a donkey cart trip to the Lumo market. Poor donkey! There were 6 of us plus the driver. Together we made a considerable load. We paid only D3 each for the trip. Quite a bargain! Throughout the journey the driver kept shouting instructions, not actually fully understood by any of us, but along the lines of “everybody back” or “everybody move up” according to the terrain, the poor donkey was trying to cross. And so we travelled; shuffling repeatedly up and down the cart which balanced on only two wheels, positioned midway. The cart also juddered as it rolled along but that was due to all the giggling on board!
When we eventually got near to the riverside for the trip back, late in the afternoon, we saw that the ferry was in, so we hurried to buy our tickets and sped down to the docking area. Too late! The ferry was 10 metres out. Lucy’s long legs had made her the first to arrive at the water’s edge and she dejectedly turned to us, her beautiful face in a frown. Suddenly we heard much shouting from the rear of the ferry. “Which one of us do you choose?” called a cheeky young man in the centre of a line of other ferry deck hands.
“You must choose” the others chorused. “Choose!”.
The ferry was reversing! Lucy laughed and replied that it just was not possible to select one man from such a kind lot.
We jumped aboard and crossed in no time.
Helen of Troy may have set the precedent but turning the Farrafeni Ferry is no mean feat.
It’s not that easy to say either!
