Dakar, Senegal

What is the opposite of stealth? Whatever it is, we approach our berth with it. Our arrival is cheered by all. 

Our plan for the day: take a ferry to Île de Gorée. The island, most known for a local museum dedicated to the history of the African slave trade, is a popular tourist destination.  We travel by foot through downtown Dakar and on to the Ferry Terminal. 

A 30 minute boat ride brings us to Île de Gorée. The ferry landing is on the northeast side of the island. We set off to explore. I propose circumnavigating the island. An easy task, the island‘s perimeter is not more than 4 kilometers. 

Most of the structures we see as we leave the ferry landing were built during the colonial period and are still used and well kept. The narrow lanes are lined by flowering bushes, the courtyards surround towering Baobab trees. 

The southern end is a high promontory that has not been built out. It is dedicated to nature and appears to be maintained by the descendants of a local artist who once worked here. 

The walk along the coast is magnificent. Eve and I are alone. This rugged end of the island is not a highlight for the tour guides. 

Making our way to the top of the outcrop, we encounter a large monument erected to the journeys of the early inhabitants over water. 

Leaving the raw landscape on the south end, we make our way up the west side of the island, back towards the ferry landing. Life is everywhere. Schoolchildren playing, neighbors chatting, goats grazing. We pause for a beer and some fries, and then set out to find the museums.

The northern end of the island is dominated by an old fort, which serves today as an African history museum.

The door in the red house at ground level is known as the “Door of No Return”. Slaves were shipped from here to the Americas. The red house is the museum I mentioned earlier.  The house’s role in the slave trade is somewhat disputed. Its symbolism is certainly very powerful. 

We finish up our museum visits and return to the ferry. Our return to the “Mother Ship” is uneventful. 

This is our last excursion for the trip. The realization that our long planned journey is nearing its end is starting to sink in. 

The Gambia

 Daily life in The Gambia, as in most African countries, is hard for us westerners to comprehend. Our excursion today gave us a brief glimpse of a couple of common activities: a food market, a private school, and a fishing village. The Gambia and Senegal are predominantly Muslim. The majority strongly object to being photographed, and let it be known if they see someone pointing a camera in their direction. (We had been warned beforehand.) 

A strong impression remains. Our local tour guide explained that life is very simple for most Gambians. They (pretty much exclusively the women) spend their day finding and preparing the next meal. The men try to earn some money. When their families have had enough to eat, the day is a success. They think only about what needs to be or can be done today. At the end of the day, they go to sleep. When they wake up, the cycle starts over. 

Eve points out that the feudal structure in Europe many centuries ago was probably not much different.

We drove past a lot of building sites during our excursion. Many looked abandoned. 

I assume that with Gambian logic they have used all the available material and when, some day, a fresh load of cement or sand or rebar shows up, then work will continue. 

At the harbor in Sanjul, a big shipment of cement was being offloaded from a ship to feed this supply chain. I shuddered. 

Of course, with the right kind of financing, some big projects might move faster. 

It is hard to write something lighthearted about The Gambia. It is a sobering reminder of how our lives in the developed world are really pretty good. 

What I will remember is the self confidence exuded by the people going about their daily lives in the markets and villages. The brilliant colors and intricate patterns of their everyday clothing. The shouts and laughter ringing through the air in the markets. I suspect that no Gambians suffer from loneliness or isolation. 

We had a very full day. 

Principe

Thick clouds envelope the island Principe. The skies threaten rain. But the wind is calm, and we set off early in the tender to the town of Santo António. 

The island has 7,000 inhabitants, most of whom live near the harbor. There is no tourist development. Only a handful of cruise ships stop by during the year.  Eve and I will see the town as nature intended. 

Malaria remains a concern in Equatorial Africa. The last case reported from the islands was two years ago. Aid agencies still run campaigns to distribute mosquito nets for sleeping under. Eve and I followed the ship‘s recommendations: light colored clothing, bug spray, go out only during the day.  

We also chose to stay around the town. São Tomé and Principe were unsettled until the Portuguese arrived in the 15th century. They raised sugar cane for a while, then switched to cocoa, which is still produced and exported. The islands were Portuguese territories until they gained independence in 1975. Main language is Portuguese. 

Everything grows here, due to the fertile volcanic soil and the equatorial climate.  Dense rain forests cover the island. 

A light warm rain comes and goes during our visit. 

After our return to the ship around noon, the skies opened up. Timing is everything.