Afam4eva:
What part of west Africa is that that looks like Europe?

we need this type of thread on the front page.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

Journal entry – start

Date: 22/11/11
Time: 9:12PM
Location: Dakar, Senegal

What an eventful evening. Fatou is so pretty that she took my breath away.

She would like me to stay for a week more.

Time: 9:18PM

What would Hemingway think of me if I refuse to stay few more days?

Entry conclusion

Indecision – I'm getting caught up in one.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I often wonder to myself why the most agreeable situations always present themselves at the wrong time.

One of my fears in life is indecision. I understood many years ago I'm responsible for the consequences of the decisions I make, and the only way not to look back with regrets is to avoid decisions not based on rationality. Being unable to reach reasonable resolution can tear me apart, sometimes.

You would think I'd have loved to stay in Cape Verde few more days, but Dakar turned out to be my favorite city. I met a pretty woman in Dakar called Fatou. I cannot describe how I felt about her. She fits perfectly into my category of a great woman. The following briefly describes her.

She loved knowledge
Her beauty was natural and rare
She was an independent thinker
She had the concerns of others at heart
She carried herself in a respectful manner

The culmination of events to follow would determine whether I would remain in Dakar for few more days or continue south.

The circumstances that lead to the above entry will follow shortly.

I arrived back in Dakar around 12:30PM on a bright, sunny day on 22/11/11. I decided to visit the African Renaissance Monument which is on one of the Mamelles hills. The monument is touted as the tallest statue in Africa. It was a beautiful sight and marvelous piece of work. The statue signifies a new era in African Renaissance, according to Former President Abdoulaye Wade. There is an inscription at the entry to the monument indicating the African countries that gave their nod to the $27m statue. Ghana is not on the list probably because our President did not attend the inauguration.

First, I decided to try to get some cash from any nearest ECOBANK, find me some accommodation and then head to downtown Dakar to hang out. The woman that served me in the bank will turn out to be one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. Her name was Fatou. She was so pretty and adorable. She was chocolate in complexion. Her eyes were deep and hazel in color. Her hips were about 42 inch and waist; 28, if I'm not mistaken. She had pretty lips, long nose and long natural eyelashes. Her hair was short like how Masai women wear their hair in Kenya. She was natural and looked gorgeous. She was simply classy. I just came back from Cape Verde, where the women are of surprising beauty, but Fatou's beauty was rare. The following conversation ensued.

“What are you doing in Senegal?” She inquired, whilst trying to pull up my transaction.

“Uhmm tourism,” I answered.
“Do you like Senegal so far?” She further inquired.

“Baal ma…naka nga tudd?” I asked her name in Wolof. Translates in English almost as, “I'm Sorry…what is your name?”

“Maa ngi tudd Fatou,” she responded with a smile and in amazement. Translates in English almost as, “My name is Fatou”

“Don't mention your name,” with a smile she said, “I have it here on my screen.”

“Do you know more Wolof?” She inquired in further amazement.

“No, just some few words,” I responded.
“Yes, I like your country, Fatou,” I answered her initial question, “everyone is welcoming.”

“Which part of Dakar did you visit?” She continued inquiring with keen interest.

“I visited only few areas,” I responded in the friendliest manner, “I arrived back from Cape Verde this afternoon, and plan to find accommodation and then tour the downtown area.”

“I bet you had fun in Cape Verde,” she joked, “I don't understand. How did you end up in Cape Verde from Ghana before coming to Dakar?”

“I came through northwest of Guinea into Senegal few days ago and continued to Cape Verde,” I answered.

“Can I flip through your passport?” Fatou requested, “You have traveled a lot.”

“Sure go ahead,” I authorized her.
“Ooowww lots of stamps!” exclaimed Fatou, “you have traveled a lot. Why?”

“To experience new things and meet gorgeous women like you,” I responded in a flirty way.

“Thank you,” she responded, “just for the experience? That is interesting.”

She finished processing my transaction at this point, and asked me to hold on for a moment.

“Sorry for that,” said she, offering to assist me in finding accommodation, “you want a hotel, correct? There is a decent and affordable one in my area, which is not very far from here. It is easy to locate I will give you the direction in a moment.”

“Thank you,” I responded, with a goofy smile, “that's very kind of you.”

She continued conversing whilst writing on a piece of paper.

“Would you like to meet me around 7:00PM for dinner?” Fatou requested, “There is a restaurant about five blocks down the road from the hotel. I would love to learn about your travels. I live right at the beach in that area.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” I accepted the invitation in the most cherish manner.

“That is my phone number,” she pointed to the phone number, handing the piece of paper to me at the same time, “Call me if anything okay?”

“Thank you,” I ended the conversation with cheers and smile, “I will be there before 7:00PM. See you soon Fatou.”

Fatou was in her late 20s, but she commanded so much respect, even among her elderly co-workers. To say she was a beautiful woman is gross understatement.

The hotel was just as decent as she described. I was on the last floor and could see the sea and hear the waves from my window. I had a breathtaking view of the shoreline.

In anticipation of my dinner with Fatou, I canceled the plan to go hang out around the downtown area. What if I don't make it back on time to meet up with her? I spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies in my room because I did not want to miss the opportunity of meeting up with her.

The restaurant was few blocks away from my hotel so I arrived there around 6:30PM, in anticipation of her appearance.

I carried with me my pocket size hourglass, camera, iPod, notepad, pen and a pencil, as I always do. I always place the mini hourglass on the table in front of me. I hardly go anywhere without it. It was my favorite object.

She arrived around 6:50PM, and to her surprise, I was already there. I pulled the seat for her and made sure she sat comfortably before reaching for my seat.

“You are a gentleman,” Fatou said, with a smile, “thank you.”

“You are welcome,” I responded, “I have been anticipating your appearance. You look beautiful.”

“Oh no!” She said, in a flattering manner, “Stop flattering me!”

“Oh yes, you are!” I continued complimenting her, “Everyone's attention was on you when you walked inside, and you didn't notice that? You are so pretty.”

She looked so gorgeous in her casual dress.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” She inquired
“No, I didn't plan to do that until you arrive,” I answered.

“Then I recommend this, that and that,” she suggested, pointing the dishes in the Manu, “they are Senegalese dishes, hopefully you will enjoy them.”

Fatou speaks excellent English so I had no problem understanding her.

“I have seen it in several movies, what does it stand for?” she lifted the mini hourglass, in curiosity.

“It's my favorite object,” I said, “it symbolizes the passage of time and serves as a continual reminder that everything, no matter how long it takes will come to an end. In order words, make meaningful use of your life whilst it dwindles to the end. I have it with me wherever I go.”

“That is interesting,” she stated, “you are interesting.”

“Are you sure about that?” I questioned.
“Yes, I am sure,” she responded, “are you married?”

“Not yet, how about you? I answered, posing the same question at her.

“Like you, I'm not ready for it yet,” she responded, “do you think we should do it because it is the only way to conform into society?”

“No, I don't think so,” I responded with great curiosity, “I suspect you have an argument for this, however. Would you like to express it out?”

Here, I have finally met the Emma Goldman of West Africa. Emma Goldman was a writer and a political activist who was very influential in the development of Anarchist political philosophy in the early twentieth century. Though I do not share her political philosophy, I amuse myself with some of her work sometimes. My favorites of her essays are Minorities versus Majorities, Marriage and Love, Militarism, Woman Suffrage and Prisons. She carried much of her cynicism into her writings.

In her Marriage and Love essay, she argues that, whilst the average girl is thought from infancy that her ultimate goal is marriage, she is thought less about her function as a wife and mother, and in an attempt to appeal to virtues extolled by the Church, she is kept completely ignorance of the most natural and healthy instinct; sex. She started by dismissing the notion that, marriage and love have something in common, and that the former is the cause of the later. She furthered her argument by acknowledging that though it is true that some marriages have been the result of love, it is not true that love could only assert itself in marriage. She pointed out that whilst some marriages are based on love, and in most cases continues in marriage life, it is not true that it does so because of marriage. Large number of men and women, she argues, are forced to submit to this phenomenon for the sake of public opinion.

Fatou formulated her argument almost in parallel to that of Goldman, and articulated it in a very rational and intelligent manner, to which she won my admiration instantly. It is rare for me to come across a West African woman with such views on marriage. However, Fatou proved exception. She thought differently and independently. I admire people who think independently, no matter what their views are. She understood the idea that she is an adult, and must not permit other people do the thinking for her. It takes some character to be able to think for you and not permit yourself to be influenced by social pressures. Adults should be left alone to make their own choices. All you can do is to support and encourage them.

“I'm impressed by the manner in which you put your argument,” I responded to her argument, “…but let me ask you this…are you in any form of relationship right now?”

“Take a guess,” she responded in a funny way, “let me also ask you this…not that I'm saying I am a pretty woman but, why do men find it difficult to approach pretty women?”

“I can't really guess,” I answered, “now to your question. I can't speak for everyone but I think it's the notion that your chance of succeeding with a pretty woman is slim because she's likely to reject you, or she's already taken. It seems also that some people are nervous around pretty women, and might avoid asking you out because they are afraid you will object to it. Another point also is that they are afraid they might not meet your high expectations. All of these reasons are likely.”

“That is an interesting perspective,” she reacted, “we can talk more about that after dinner.”

She realized I was starving so we attended to our stomach.

The conversation diverted into a different topic.

“Is tribalism common in Ghana?” She inquired.

“Yes it is,” I answered, “let me see. In Ghana, some people are likely to ask which tribe you belong to first before asking your name. Is it a burden here in Senegal, as well?”

“Yes it is,” she responded, with a smirk, “we are all in the same boat”

“Yes we are it seems,” I chipped in, “too bad isn't it?”

“What do you think about it?” She questioned.
“I hold the opinion that, people should be judged based on the content of their character,” I started the interaction, “very few people are capable of doing this, unfortunately. Most people's judgment, it seems to me are clouded by tribalistic sentiments no matter how hard they try to hide it. It's what drives their ego. They are bigots. They feel they are better than the other person and must express it one way or the other. They feel like the world revolves around them. It's too shortsighted. I try to avoid people like that.

It's like everything else. It is quiet difficult for some people to understand why you aren't one of them and why you don't think like they do. They would understand why you refuse to think like one of them only when they get around the reason why they also refuse to think like one of you.”

“You are correct,” she joined, “you have just described the problem here.”

Whilst venting out our frustration at these issues, she suggested whether I would love to walk on the beach that evening. I consented to it so we conducted ourselves to the beach area after the super. Her home is just by the beach.

She objected to me paying for the dinning so she paid for it.

It was calm on the beach, especially walking with Fatou. I remembered a certain detail I wanted to put down in my notepad before it deletes from my memory. There was a sitting area close by so she suggested we sit there so I could use the illumination. Whilst flipping through my notepad, she noticed some illustrations and wondered what they were. She asked if she could see them.

“What is that?” She inquired, “Did you sketch that yourself?”

“Yes I did,” I responded, pointing at the illustrations at the same time, “that is our solar system, and that is the Milky Way Galaxy.”

I have an obsessive interest in Astronomy. Everything about astronomy fascinates me so I spend a lot of time reading more about our Solar System and the Milky Way Galaxy. In fascination of the stars in the sky whilst sleeping under the shed in the isolated village in Central Guinea, I made rough illustrations of the Milky Way Galaxy and our Solar System, depicting the relative position of the sun, earth, the moon and the rest of the planets in the ecliptic plane. It was an effort to predict the current location of Voyager 1 as it explores the edge of our solar system.

“I have seen things like these on the TV and magazines,” she wondered, pointing at the Solar System illustration, “I remember learning a bit about them whilst in school. What are they can you explain them to me?”

“Yes sure why not,” I responded.
But where do I begin? I was thinking to myself. She pointed to the sun because it stood out due to its size.

Facing the Atlantic Ocean, I began my demonstration.

“That is the Sun,” I began.
“Wow!” she quickly interrupted, “but it appears very big here.”

“Yes, it is actually very big,” I responded, pointing at a tiny illustration at the same time, “that is planet earth. The sun is over 100 times the size of earth. In order words, about 1,000,000 planets the size of earth can fit into the sun.”

“Wow!” she interrupted again with surprise, “I never knew that. But it appears very small in the sky.”

“That is because it is far away from earth,” I responded, “It is about 93 million miles away from earth. It takes about 8 minutes 20 seconds for light to travel from the sun to earth. In other words, the sunlight that brightens over Dakar during the day travels 8 minutes 20 seconds from the sun before hitting the surface of earth. And this line…it illustrates the orbit path of earth. We go around almost on that path around the sun for 365 days to complete one full revolution. Earth travels around it over 67,000 miles per hour. That is about 1000 times the speed you travel on a highway in your car, and yet it takes us 365 days to revolve around it. That is how big it is.”

“I never knew all about this,” she interrupted, “that is very interesting, but wouldn't earth crash into the sun at that speed?”

She was starting to show signs of intelligence already. She was following keenly with extreme interest and asking relevant questions, as a starter.

“No it wouldn't,” I responded, “earth is gravitationally bound to the sun. That is why we have remained on the same path for 4.5 billion years.”

“Okay but wouldn't the sun also move a bit forward and crash into earth?” She inquired with further curiosity.

“It will,” I answered her, “the sun's fuel, largely made of hydrogen, will run out, and it will turn into a red giant. It would then swell and swallow Mercury, Venus, Earth and possibly Mars. It will shrink into a white dwarf star, cool off for few billion years more and then fades away. That is one possible future of our planet.”

This bit of the demonstration distressed her greatly. I held her shoulders, look into her yes and said, “don't worry this wouldn't happen anytime soon. I'm talking of over 5 billion years from now.”

This assurance cheered her up a bit. I used almost every piece of item I could locate around to continue my demonstration. She pointed at a tiny illustration closer to earth and wondered what it was.

I demonstrated in the simplest form I could think of and with very little detail.

“That is the moon,” I responded, pointing at the moon in the sky at the same time, “look, that one over there. It revolves around earth in about 28 days to complete full revolution. Our planet revolves around the sun together with the moon.”

“I don't understand,” she was confused, “the moon goes around the earth, and the earth goes around the sun at the same time? Wouldn't the moon fall in earth in the process?”

“Gravity,” I responded, with further demonstration, “the moon is gravitationally bound to earth. Both earth and the moon are gravitationally bound to the sun, but the force of attraction between earth and the moon is much stronger due to the closeness in distance. The distance between earth and the moon is almost about 239,000 miles. Our planet together with the moon revolves around the sun at a very high speed.”

Her attention immediately shifted to the other illustration. “What is that?” She inquired, pointing at the Milky Way illustration.

“Milky Way Galaxy,” I responded, pointing at the stars in the sky at the same time, “up there, yes those stars. That is a very tiny portion of the Milky Way you are looking at. The Milky Way contains more than 200 billion stars and over 10 billion planets. The closest star to our planet is the sun. Each star in the sky right now could have planets revolving around it just as our planet revolves around the sun.”

“The sun is a star?” She quickly questioned, “I didn't know that”

“Yes it is,” I continued the demonstration, pointing at the sky, after pointing to the position of our Solar System in the Milky Way, “the second closest star to our planet is called Proxima Centauri. It is about 4.2 light years away. It takes light over 4 years to travel from Proxima Centauri to the surface of earth. Look, we are around here in the Milky Way. When you zoom in, we are trapped and unable to escape in this tiny region called the Solar System. Look at the stars in the sky. You look at them now as they were years ago. It takes 4.2 years for the light of the second closest star to our planet to travel to the surface of earth for you to see. They are so far away. With the current spacecraft technology available, it will take us over 40,000 years to travel to the second closest star to our solar system.”

“Wow! Wow!!” surprised, she continued inquiring, whilst pointing at the stars, “That is very interest. It takes over 4 years for the bright thing to reach here for me to see? Oowwww earth is very small, look!”

“Yes, very small and extremely insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe,” I responded, and continued the demonstration with the grain of sand I could collect from the beach, “look at our planet in the Solar System…very small, as you put it yourself. Ultimately, earth is like a grain of sand in this vast beach. We are stuck at a very tiny spot called the Solar System in the midst of billions of stars of which we happened to revolve only around one. When you continue zooming out into the Local Group, to the Superclusters, our Galaxy, which contains over 200 billion stars, also start to appear insignificant. At that point, the grain of sand I just made analogy looks as if it doesn't even exist at all.

And yes, it takes over 4 years for the light of the second closest star to reach earth. Some of the stars you look at right now are tens of light years away so they appear as they were decades ago.”

Fascinated by the demonstration, she continued looking through the illustrations. “What is the thing you have colored?” She wondered.

“That is a rough illustration of the current location of Voyager 1,” I answered, “it is probably somewhere on the edge of the solar system. It is the most distant spacecraft in space. It was launched into orbit in 1977 and has traveled over 10 billion miles from earth so far. It takes more than 16 hours for it to send radio signals to earth. It has flown pass Jupiter and Saturn and now on its way to the very edge of our solar system.”

“Wow!” She interrupted in amazement, “interesting”
“Yes so cool isn't it?” I joked, “There is a visual and audio disc placed aboard the spacecraft in the event that it is found by intelligent life from other planets. It contains music, photos, sound of a baby crying and other important information. I have one of the songs aboard the spacecraft, 'Johnny B Goody by Chuck Berry' on my iPod. I will play it to you in a moment. '”

Whilst looking straight into her eyes in the course of this bit of the demonstration, our lips met and glued together for a moment. I tilted my head about 65 degrees, and started to run my left hand through her short hair. Feeling the intensity of her juicy and glittering lips, I slowly and gently started to kiss her. It went on for a moment before coming down to her neck. I continued rubbing my hands around her neck and all over her face. Her lips were as sweet as I imagined; soft and warm. And then the most unexpected thing happened; her phone rang. It was her mother who needed her presence for a moment. She whispered into my ears and asked if it is possible I could stay in Dakar few more days. It turned out to be the wrong week of the month, if you know what I mean, so nothing happened.

She invited me into her home. To my surprise, her mother has prepared a special dish for me. I was full because of the dinner we had, but as custom demands, I attended to it the best I can. The mother was very kind and friendly.

To want me to stay few more days, Fatou thought would be too selfish of her. I was going to stay for her. She was worth it. I should get on with my plans she pleaded, for we have the rest of our lives to see each other again, if time permit. She walked me back to the hotel where we exchanged gifts. She gave me a leather bracelet she was wearing. She had worn it for years, and it was her favorite. I did not have bracelet or anything worthy on me to give to her except my mini hourglass. I also gave her my favorite piece, to which we kissed and said farewell to each other.

Next Episode
It would feature the experience in The Gambia.

some pictures of Senegal

the first picture African Renaissance Monument

second picture African Renaissance Monument from afar

third picture Inscription at the entry gate into the African Renaissance Monument

fourth picture View of Dakar from the Mamelles Hills

fifth picture View of Dakar from the Mamelles Hills

keep your comment coming
you can also add your travel experience in any west Africa country

Interesting keep it up

No doubt this should be given the best thred of the year I was extremely wowed by your writeup can't wait to read more keep it coming

Oga u tried, reading through your adventure, i felt am also part of it.U just dey sample all toto all over africa.

Meen!! That was a superb description of the solar system, learnt from it, thanks.. Please keep it coming...

Pls we are waiting

I think cape verde should be on my to go list

Please how is cape Verde really in general?Is it more developed than Ghana?

I love this nartative.

Oya, come and continue oo

Wow! Skipper123 I will strongly advice you to put this your voyage in a book it will be highly marketable and profitable

nice work Africalust

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues.

skipper123:
nice work Africalust

Thanks Skipper, but I'm still an amateur in training if you were referring to the photos

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues same day next week.

Africalust:


Thanks Skipper, but I'm still an amateur in training if you were referring to the photos

.
Can you please give me the rough estimate of the total cost of the trip to and fro.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues .

@skipper,please how much was your flight from Dakar to cape Verde?again,how is praia compared to accra?

Beautiful narrative, skipper123. You've had quite an adventure across West Africa and your experiences make a very good read.

Could you upload a few more pics of the people you met and places you visited? I was hoping to see something of your midnight travel through the forest.

It would also be helpful if you could outline your journey's route from the starting point, the detours you took from your planned route, and your final destination. Maybe some highlights on a map with coloured marker pens for your planned routes and detours.

Nice one bro. You keep writing and we'll keep reading.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode

sorry guys for the delay i was having problem with thread.it keep removing my update..

skipper123:
sorry guys for the delay i was having problem with thread.it keep removing my update..

dude.
come And continue, I Am loving your story

Justwise sir, please save skipper123 from anti-spam bot. The bot is hiding his lengthy write up I guess. Thanks sir.

Where is Skipper123.
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Hope all is well with you?.
Please come on back and finish your story.
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