Yes it would.
I was able to withdraw the finances required (and wonder if I can claim this back under some sort of 'idiot mistake' clause which may or may not be contained within my travel insurance policy, which it would be good to receive, Aviva!) - somehow the ATM let me take what I needed, albeit in smaller chunks than was ideal. I sneakily bundled it into my very own brown envelope which the kindly lady had given me.
Lamine drove me back to the airport office, where I lovingly counted out inches worth of dilapidated currency to equal the desired amount. I had been able to pay some sort of penalty for re-booking after missing the flight, rather than having to buy a new ticket. If that had happened, that would have required significantly more inches of currency and I would have had to have gone to make friends at the Embassy. I'm still waiting to be followed-back. Story of my life.
I thanked the lady at Royal Air Maroc, who has a four-month-old and two other young children. I asked her how motherhood was going and she said that it was going ok.
So this really is it - my final few hours in Africa, this time. As I said, this place gets inside you, it draws you back. There's something about the way of life, the friendship, the simplicity, the landscapes - I've seen breath-taking sunsets, intriguing wildlife, stunning seascapes with huge waves crashing onto untainted powdered sands. It's a place where time isn't money, where people aren't in a hurry (except in vehicles, where everyone is in a massive hurry - more prayer goes into travel than anything else). There's time for greetings, for chatting, for getting to know people. We are human beings, not human thinkings or human doings, and I think sometimes in the frenetic lives we lead, we lose sight of the fact that it is ok to just be.
I've stayed in places which have been generally basic, but have met my needs. They've been mainly guesthouses, where you are literally a guest in a large house where a family and often their angry pets live, and they've turned a few available rooms into guest rooms. I like that feeling - you can do your own thing, but you have somewhere homely to be, even if it's just for a couple of days. They are all big enough to feel secure, but small enough that it's first name terms straightaway, with consistent greetings and checks that everything is ok. I think my French has improved a little, which is useful - maybe I can apply for that 'French-Speaking Trainer' after all.... ou peut-etre pas.
I've read through my blog today and am only now appreciating how long it is - I commend anyone who has read the whole thing - I struggled, and I wrote it.
Everything is baobab. Campement Baobab; Restaurant Baobab; Mission Baobab; Café Baobab. I first learnt about baobab trees when I studied Le Petit Prince when I did A-level French. I didn't understand most of it, but it involved a small prince and some very big knobbly trees which were baobab trees. These big knobbly trees are everywhere in Africa and have become synonymously symbolic of Africa. This trip, I saw these in the flesh, or perhaps, in the bark, in Bijilo National Park, with my guide Sean / Mustafa, after my creepy encounter with the middle-aged bumster. I've since read-up on them - it is usual to pretend to have been a policeman in the past - the bumster, not the baobab - they haven't been policemen in the past - they are large knobbly trees.
Again and again, Africa stirs up so many thoughts. Whilst with my companion awaiting the Barra / Banjul ferry, there were hawkers everywhere, but this time I noticed that they were - almost uniquely - children. Plus the cart at the airport was run by a 13-year-old boy. I chatted to the Air Traffic Controller about education. There is no public-funded education - it's not like the UK where primary and secondary education is largely funded by the government (though some schools have despaired at cuts, we know this) - if parents in The Gambia don't have the means to pay, the children don't go to school. And it's not just school fees; it's equipment and uniform. If you don't have a regular wage, this can be hard to find.
I will never forget being in Ghana in 2002, where I taught English, French and sport in a primary school for six months, with over forty students in each class. Where parents hadn't paid the termly fees, students were actively excluded from lessons and forced to sit outside the Deputy Head's office. I remember organising for various people to sponsor certain children's education on my return.
To give this some context, the GDP of The Gambia in 2018 was $1.62bn. In the UK in the same year, this was $2825.21bn. According to Lonely Planet, 60% of Gambians live in poverty. 60%! I don't know if that is 'extreme poverty' or 'absolute poverty' and here isn't the place to do an analysis of the definitions which are recognised global definitions and there is a difference between them. We see relative poverty in the UK - we see people in full-time work, reliant on foodbanks. Plus there are all sorts of other types of need, many of which have evolved because of the nature of the world in which we now live - I spend my work life delivering training on topics such as safeguarding, digital awareness, knife crime, discrimination - lots of things make life difficult for people in different ways. I'm not going to brain-dump here, but this trip has seriously made me think about what we take for granted and forget that not everyone has access to. There should not be children selling stuff in bus-parks and on the streets - they should be receiving education. I'm not sure how, but I will take some sort of action.
Well, it's nearly time to go, though I suspect there might be some further bloggings depending on how the journey goes.
Thank you for the various comments, messages, positive thoughts / prayers / whatever you like to call them, that have come my way whilst I've been in Senegal and The Gambia. There are pros and cons to travelling alone, but I haven't been alone.
I was able to withdraw the finances required (and wonder if I can claim this back under some sort of 'idiot mistake' clause which may or may not be contained within my travel insurance policy, which it would be good to receive, Aviva!) - somehow the ATM let me take what I needed, albeit in smaller chunks than was ideal. I sneakily bundled it into my very own brown envelope which the kindly lady had given me.
Lamine drove me back to the airport office, where I lovingly counted out inches worth of dilapidated currency to equal the desired amount. I had been able to pay some sort of penalty for re-booking after missing the flight, rather than having to buy a new ticket. If that had happened, that would have required significantly more inches of currency and I would have had to have gone to make friends at the Embassy. I'm still waiting to be followed-back. Story of my life.
I thanked the lady at Royal Air Maroc, who has a four-month-old and two other young children. I asked her how motherhood was going and she said that it was going ok.
So this really is it - my final few hours in Africa, this time. As I said, this place gets inside you, it draws you back. There's something about the way of life, the friendship, the simplicity, the landscapes - I've seen breath-taking sunsets, intriguing wildlife, stunning seascapes with huge waves crashing onto untainted powdered sands. It's a place where time isn't money, where people aren't in a hurry (except in vehicles, where everyone is in a massive hurry - more prayer goes into travel than anything else). There's time for greetings, for chatting, for getting to know people. We are human beings, not human thinkings or human doings, and I think sometimes in the frenetic lives we lead, we lose sight of the fact that it is ok to just be.
I've stayed in places which have been generally basic, but have met my needs. They've been mainly guesthouses, where you are literally a guest in a large house where a family and often their angry pets live, and they've turned a few available rooms into guest rooms. I like that feeling - you can do your own thing, but you have somewhere homely to be, even if it's just for a couple of days. They are all big enough to feel secure, but small enough that it's first name terms straightaway, with consistent greetings and checks that everything is ok. I think my French has improved a little, which is useful - maybe I can apply for that 'French-Speaking Trainer' after all.... ou peut-etre pas.
I've read through my blog today and am only now appreciating how long it is - I commend anyone who has read the whole thing - I struggled, and I wrote it.
Everything is baobab. Campement Baobab; Restaurant Baobab; Mission Baobab; Café Baobab. I first learnt about baobab trees when I studied Le Petit Prince when I did A-level French. I didn't understand most of it, but it involved a small prince and some very big knobbly trees which were baobab trees. These big knobbly trees are everywhere in Africa and have become synonymously symbolic of Africa. This trip, I saw these in the flesh, or perhaps, in the bark, in Bijilo National Park, with my guide Sean / Mustafa, after my creepy encounter with the middle-aged bumster. I've since read-up on them - it is usual to pretend to have been a policeman in the past - the bumster, not the baobab - they haven't been policemen in the past - they are large knobbly trees.
Again and again, Africa stirs up so many thoughts. Whilst with my companion awaiting the Barra / Banjul ferry, there were hawkers everywhere, but this time I noticed that they were - almost uniquely - children. Plus the cart at the airport was run by a 13-year-old boy. I chatted to the Air Traffic Controller about education. There is no public-funded education - it's not like the UK where primary and secondary education is largely funded by the government (though some schools have despaired at cuts, we know this) - if parents in The Gambia don't have the means to pay, the children don't go to school. And it's not just school fees; it's equipment and uniform. If you don't have a regular wage, this can be hard to find.
I will never forget being in Ghana in 2002, where I taught English, French and sport in a primary school for six months, with over forty students in each class. Where parents hadn't paid the termly fees, students were actively excluded from lessons and forced to sit outside the Deputy Head's office. I remember organising for various people to sponsor certain children's education on my return.
To give this some context, the GDP of The Gambia in 2018 was $1.62bn. In the UK in the same year, this was $2825.21bn. According to Lonely Planet, 60% of Gambians live in poverty. 60%! I don't know if that is 'extreme poverty' or 'absolute poverty' and here isn't the place to do an analysis of the definitions which are recognised global definitions and there is a difference between them. We see relative poverty in the UK - we see people in full-time work, reliant on foodbanks. Plus there are all sorts of other types of need, many of which have evolved because of the nature of the world in which we now live - I spend my work life delivering training on topics such as safeguarding, digital awareness, knife crime, discrimination - lots of things make life difficult for people in different ways. I'm not going to brain-dump here, but this trip has seriously made me think about what we take for granted and forget that not everyone has access to. There should not be children selling stuff in bus-parks and on the streets - they should be receiving education. I'm not sure how, but I will take some sort of action.
Well, it's nearly time to go, though I suspect there might be some further bloggings depending on how the journey goes.
Thank you for the various comments, messages, positive thoughts / prayers / whatever you like to call them, that have come my way whilst I've been in Senegal and The Gambia. There are pros and cons to travelling alone, but I haven't been alone.
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