All change!

After our travels around Senegal, we stayed in Gambia for a while and took trips up and down the river Gambia both on the motorbike and with the truck.

And as we did, we encountered the one constant we have become accustomed to in this part of the world, Police stops, which are relentless and boring, especially when they ask what is in the truck and want us to open up to see inside which means pulling off the road, stopping the truck, pulling out the stairs and allowing access before doing all the same in reverse, just so the officers can stand at the door way and nod their heads and say “okay, that’s fine.” Not really good fun in 35+ Degrees and humidity levels to make you cry.

Usually, a small gift of Tea or sugar helps pave the way, but it’s something we don’t agree with, but admittedly have adopted in some cases, just to make life easier. That all said, we didn’t expect, what we were asked when stopped near the border to Senegal. During a routine Police stop the policeman hauled himself up on the steps of the truck to be at eye level with us and then asked – “Do you have any money, food or water. I have no food to feed my family” This is something new and shocking. We obliged with a little help and were soon on our way, but highlight there must be a real problem that we don’t understand?

These relentless stops started to make us question our legality and integrity, and so the habit developed that whoever was co-pilot would often pass time checking and checking again our papers as we started to disbelieve our own position.

After some time in Gambia, we headed for Guinea Bissau via Senegal where we got our visas to enter Guinea Bissau. The visas were issued by the smallest Consulate building we had ever seen and no bigger than a small house, but our visas were prepared in a flash.

Flushed with success we thought we would chance our arm (no pun intended) and we moved on to the local hospital to enquire about Covid jabs and emerged from the grim unkempt hospital premises with stiff arms and our first Covid certificate all logged in a paper journal in the hospital for future reference? Not a computer in sight.

The validity of these vaccinations for the UK though is more than questionable, as we heard from a friend recently who had a Vaccination in Wales and the second in England, and had to stand her corner to get the Welsh jab recognized, so an AstraZeneca jab from Senegal, I don’t think so.

I have to say though, it was seamless and took around 15 minutes from enquiry to stiff arm syndrome.

So, all set, the transfer from Senegal to the Guinea Bissau border took a couple of hours and once in Guinea Bissau we turned a straight right and headed west as we had been told of a super beach resort 50km west but the road might be a bit challenging!

After approximately 20km, we called it a day and turned around. We had lost a roof rail, pulled off by low hanging tree branches, as well as totally destroyed the wiring for the solar panels, similarly ripped out by low hanging trees.

Low trees and completely unmade and deeply potholed roads made passing impossible and so we decided to head for Bissau, the capital city of Guinea Bissau and only real significant town in the country.

Bissau lays approximately 150km south of the border and we set off midafternoon and made plans to wild camp when we saw a good spot.

The Flora of Guinea Bissau is such that the only break in swamp land and densely populated tree and shrub land is for settlements or villages, and as time drew on we didn’t want to ask at a village for a safe stopping area, as the light was already failing and it would probably be a struggle to make our request understood, so we pushed on.

There appeared to be no suitable stopping opportunities until we chanced upon a commercial garage where we stopped (the first real building we had seen since entering the country) and enquired about possibly parking for the night. The night watchmen (there appeared to be one with several friends)? agreed on a price of 5000 CFA or around 6 quid for a place to park and overnight security.

The following morning the group of watchmen awakened us at 06.00 hrs.

This then gave us an easy run of around 120km down to Bissau city and plenty of time that day to find a suitable base to continue our exploration of Guinea Bissau.

We traveled the main road in the whole country of Guinea Bissau known as the N1. This road was mainly dirt track and deeply scared dirt track at that, and the 120km took us around 8 hours to complete, with again, little chance of wild camping as it was mainly swamp or Mangrove with no open space to pull off the road.

The N1 was just about the only road in Guinea Bissau with any tarmac at all. A phenomenon we had never encountered before and quite astounding.

Guinea Bissau is still under Portuguese influence, with Portuguese as the main spoken language, and Portuguese beer being sold in numerous “hole in the wall” type bars all over Bissau. Far more bars than anywhere else we had seen in Western Africa so far and despite being a strong Muslim population of around 45% against 22% Christians, they love to drink beer it would appear.

Signs for Sagres, Super Bock and Cristal beers advertised everywhere once we reached Bissau town.

Music was also a major factor with many bars, no matter how small or dingy, advertising live music. A factor we took advantage of during our stay!

In the city (I use the term lightly) of Bissau, there were the usual array of street vendors and a smattering of western type shops as well as a number of guys on the street with wheel barrows. The barrows all neat and marked with a number. It transpired that the guys worked for a master and were around to transport goods, of any type and size, from A to B around the city.

With the cost of a taxi so low, it wasn’t worth paying, I wonder what these poor guys were getting paid to push a barrow around?

Another observation was that on virtually every street corner were piles of clothing. Mainly just piled up in heaps, these clothes were all second-hand western clothes and after investigation, we found out they were the excess clothes from the clothing banks we all use all over the developed world. The deal being, the charity shops can’t sell all we give so they sell to merchants, who sort the excess and bundle it and sell it on to third world countries to wear as well as selling some as rags etc.

At least it gets used and the charity shops get an income and the locals get a chance to wear western quality clothing.

Our entry into Guinea Bissau was at the start of July and the start of the rainy season and true to form, the rain came and lots of it. Not constant and not every day, but when it came, it really came.

Flash floods appeared and roads where too deep to walk or even drive in some cases.

The temperature went up as did the humidity- A lot!

Walking just 100 meters became a challenge.

The mosquitos grew to twice the size overnight and an array of flying insects of assorted colors, shapes and sizes also joined the party.

If they were viewed from behind glass, they would have been fascinating but up close and personnel. Not so sure.

Antihistamine became a regular with our morning coffee.

Despite having mosquito nets on all windows and doors, they still found a way into the truck.

Western Africa also has numerous redundant Termite mounds all over the countryside, which we had seen constantly during our travels. But the mounds are treated immediately to eradicate the Termites as all local homes are built from wood and the Termites eat the wood, so they are not tolerated. Despite this they still swarm during the rainy season as they hatch en masse and then fly en masse like unmanned aircraft, landing where the wind takes them and then drop their wings and start to look to build more mounds.

So, when we had a swarm land on the truck, it wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences and as we had our roof hatch open with the mosquito net on, we had a swarm of Termites flying and losing their wings directly above us.

As the net was on and sealed by Velcro, the Termites couldn’t get in to the truck, but we couldn’t open the net to shut the hatch either? So, we had no option other than to try and sleep with the creatures buzzing around above our heads……...

I have attached a small video of the night time and a photograph of the carnage the next day, when they had all met their end ,as we spent the night burning Mosquito coils and spraying the net from the inside, as well as sealing around the Mosquito net with Electrical tape to ensure the Velcro didn’t giveaway.

This had to be one of the most revolting experiences of my life.

We were able to deal with the aftermath the next day and I was glad to see the back of them.

We continued our journey and whilst driving through Bissau we were diverted by the local police onto a back road and despite our protests as the road was small and our truck is big! We obliged only to snag an electric cable on our broken roof rail.

Having stopped all the traffic, I have to admit having a minor panic, as what to do to free ourselves from the cable as reversing wasn’t working. The cable had become trapped and as we tried to work out a way forward, two locals shimmied up our truck in a flash, and so I felt obliged to follow them despite my nervousness.

When I got on the roof, the locals had a hold on this live electricity cable, and despite telling them it wasn’t safe, they released the cable and told me it was okay as they had gloves on?

The cable hung like a sagging clothes line, making it hard for even cars to pass under, as we had pulled it even further out of shape.

Guinea Bissau was as far south we could get due to all borders further south being closed for you know what!

After a lot of soul searching, we went back to Gambia where we have parked our truck in secure parking before heading back to Europe to travel through Eastern Europe (Bulgaria, Macedonia, Albania, Serbia etc.)

The plan is to travel back to Blighty for my daughter’s wedding late October and then head to Gambia early November, drive south if borders are open or ship to South Africa and continue from there.

It was a hard decision and although we are still following our will to travel the world, we desperately miss our truck.

I write this from a rented apartment in North Macedonia with a lovely city view, but Africa gets into your blood, and we both miss the chaos we have left behind.

Roll on November, we want to go back to our home.

Oh, and we also filmed for series 2 of Million Pound Mega Motorhomes for channel 5 TV in The Gambia. This will be broadcast on British TV next year I would imagine.

I may take a short rest from writing dependent on our travels, and resume again when we continue our travels in November.

Thank you for reading my blog

Cooling down, wind in our hair (figuratively speaking in my case)

After several weeks in eastern Senegal, in the constant intense heat, we decided enough was enough and it was time to move on.

We longed for the Ocean and to feel the wind in our hair again (figuratively speaking in my case).

The outline plan was to enter The Gambia from the eastern end of the country and travel westerly until we arrived at the west coast that is the area frequented by the tourist trade.

The Gambia is basically a long tube that is surrounded on all sides by Senegal and the Gambia is around 40km wide at its widest and around 300km long Roughly speaking) with one major (ish) road to the south of the river and the same to the north.

We have been back up river for a couple of days and its mainly scrub land with an odd village here and there sustaining life the best they can.

After the blistering heat of the Senegal jungle, we looked forward to our visit to The Gambia, I envisaged spoiling ourselves by checking into a luxury hotel, lying next to a swimming pool and ordering a large fluorescent cocktail, complete with as many e-numbers you could shake a stick at, umbrellas on cocktail sticks and of course, lots and lots of Ice to beat away the thought of the intense heat we had endured.

Life is never what you expect is it?

We went to the most easterly border of The Gambia to make our entrance.This would have given us a pleasant drive to the coast on either the North or South side of the river of a few hundred kilometers which would have taken a few days to complete.

Unfortunately, Covid once again reared its ugly head and as there was no testing facility in the area to the east of The Gambia and so we were forced to drive parallel to the Gambia heading westward in Senegal until we arrived at the town of Villingara and well on the way towards the coast. Still here no test available so another drive west to a hospital in a town called Kolda were we were shown to a seat and told to wait. After 2 hours I enquired as to when we might be seen and was told the person in charge had gone home and to return at 08.00 hours the next day. Again, the next day we waited 2 hours and then another enquiry to be told that they didn’t do testing at this hospital and we had to drive further west to Ziguinchor almost parallel to the Gambia coast!

Welcome to Africa.

We visited three hospitals but the same experience at each.

Filthy dirty places with no sealed roads, goats, dogs and cats walking around the places, rubbish piled up in corners and an odd scrap car to boot.

It was quite shocking to see.

We had a peak in a bedded ward and the beds were ancient, the windows none existent, just broken shutters to protect against the squalor outside. Filthy floors, staff in filthy clothing.

We were just grateful we only had to endure a swab up the nose.

I have to say, despite the conditions, this part was very well done and we got our results a few hours later and we left Senegal and tried to enter The Gambia.

On arriving at the Gambian border we were grilled as to what our business was and why we wanted to visit?

After much negotiation we had our entry paper work extended from 3 days to 1 week?

They searched our vehicle for drugs and made us feel very guilty of crimes we had not committed.

We are still lost as to why this was the case?

The only saving grace was the temperature dropped to a manageable 35ish degrees by day and as low as 28 at night – Bliss!

Once over the border we headed for the south west corner of The Gambia as it was the most remote and would give us chance to take stock!

That evening we chanced upon a Camperment owned by an English guy, George and his much younger Gambian wife, Anna.

My mind reached a swift conclusion to the marriage arrangement of George and his young wife Anna, but boy, I couldn’t of been more wrong.

George, 74 years old and an ex Falkland’s war veteran. He had been shot twice whilst in service (Navy) and lost a lung to the war effort.

George smoked around 60 cigarettes a day and had his oxygen machine on hand at all times.

He slept on a couch outside or in the bush and often got bitten or stung by something nasty but he said he wasn’t scared as he hadn’t died yet!

Georges wife Anna, was 44 years old. Well educated and looked after George on hand and foot.

This was a relationship that was as solid as a rock and two of the nicest people you could meet.

On the camperment they had a few rooms for travelling locals and any odd tourist that ventured down this way and just enough space to park our truck.

Also living in the area were a small number of expat brits, all living in this remote area for their own reasons but all would admit they left the UK as they no longer fitted in back home.

These guys and girls would congregate at GeorgeAnnas camperment as it was called from late morning until late at night and alcohol featured heavily in these visits.

I tried several times to ascertain how this was funded by the expats but never really got a straight answer?

I asked George how he coped with the constant lure of getting sucked into a drinking culture and his response was instant and heart felt.

He said, I never have a drink early. I wait until 4pm before I start and that keeps me safe?

A more honest answer you could not get anywhere I would suggest.

George is a great character with lots of war stories to tell and tales of a fully lived life and a good guy to boot.

He and Anna had set up a charity to build a maternity room in their local area as death during birth was common for both mother and baby as there was no one with midwife skills and certainly no hospital for many miles.

They were also working to rescue child (sex) slaves being exported to Mauritania. It’s quite common here in the Gambia and also in Senegal. In fact slavery is common place through-out Africa to this day.

George was also well connected with the local police and immigration officers and after a quick chat in an unkempt office of the head of immigration for the south of The Gambia. His uniform must have been 3 sizes too big for this frail gentleman but that didn’t stop the business deal being done and after handing over of a few Dalasi (local currency) we had papers to last us another month thanks to Georges influence.

That’s how it all works here but when the police get paid around 2000 Dalasi a month (around 30 pounds), you soon realise why bribery is a normal part of life.

During our stay with George and Anna we had many interesting and enlightening conversations and they were both that only the Africans can help Africa. A view widely shared amongst educated Africans.

Her take as is the take of many others is that the large charities inform the world press of any disasters that happen in Africa (and they do), the charities lay on aircraft tickets, hotels, cars and food and entertainment (use your imagination) for the journalists and so the journalists can report to the world of these austerities and in turn that raises money that feeds the charities and their ‘management` and so the wheel keeps turning.

We also ascertain from many conversations that many Africans are ashamed of their countrymen trying to get to Europe and the issues this causes back in the villages from where they come.

The fighting and falling out in the villages is rife and only the traffickers are the winners.

Most educated Africans realise the potential of Africa and the wealth it could provide. Its a continent rich in resources and although many have been abused by the mainly European nations in the past, it is now a race between the Africans and the Chinese to realise the full potential of this continent.

My fear is I know who the benefactors will be.

Anna also told us of the many teachers that are employed in outlying areas that can barely read and write and how they teach with few if any aids such as books or pencils. This is not just in The Gambia, it is on the most of the African continent.

School is a luxury and isn’t for everyone.

After several enlightening days with George and Anna we headed north to the more populated and the tourist areas to see how this was and get that cocktail!

I have to say its quite enlightening to speak English again and it makes life much easier for getting a few jobs done on the truck.

The tourist areas are a world away from what we have become used to and are understandably extremely quiet although there are still a few tourists around, mainly of an older age, both male and Female enjoying the company of friends of the opposite sex and half their age?

The people of The Gambia are it has to be said, extremely friendly and we are constantly stopped whilst enquiries are made as to our names and country of origin and during one such exchange, the young man said – British, you are nice people, you are our friends, You colonized us.

I didn’t have an answer for that one?

Although many roads here in the Gambia are sealed, there are still many sand roads as the rest of Africa.

The standard of driving is appalling but the biggest hazard whilst driving is the pollution caused by just about every vehicle blowing out black smoke.

The garage doing some of our repairs tells us he struggles to get work as maintenance is not something the Gambians see as a good investment, especially when it comes to their vehicles.

The usual sequence is the air filter gets blocked by all the sand so they remove it and the sand gets into the engine, wears the pistons and that means black smoke and lots of it.

After a quick blast on the motorbike, a shower is needed before I am allowed back in our truck. Charlotte stands at the entrance with a rolling pin in one hand and a towel and soap in the other.

It’s a filthy place to ride a bike.

The Gambian´s have developed their own spelling and words for various items and my favorite is their term for the conmen that feed off the tourists, using any trick to try and suck a few Dalasi from us. Their term is Bumsters and it’s a term used widely amongst the Gambian population.

Are their many Bumsters in that area, is a common enquiry.

We tourists are referred to as Toubab.

Again whilst walking, driving or riding our Motorcycle we will often hear the shout of ‘Hay, Toubab`.

This is not a derogatory term and is said to stem from the local Gambian children asking the British army officers for Two bob? Anyway, what ever the origin, its actually quite funny and when you look at the person shouting Toubab, you are usually met with a huge white smile that is completely genuine and a real desire to know who you are.

As regards the fluorescent cocktail, it never did happen but as we sit and while away the time whilst repairs are completed, I still wonder if today will be the day I get my Fluorescent cocktail and a sit by the pool.

What ever, we still great every sun down with the African orange hue that appears as the sun drops below the horizon and as the silence falls and the bugs come out, we listen to the strange animal and bird sounds we hear around us and wonder what they are telling each other.

The magic is palpable.

Soon we will be done in The Gambia and we are off south to Guinea Bissau via Senegal which for now is the furthest south we can get due to border closures for you know what.

It is also in late June as I write this and soon the rains will start that make remote travelling impossible as roads get washed out and flash floods are common place which gives us a whole new set of challenges to overcome. We have already started on the Malaria tablets as we have had a few down pours already.

Lets see what happens next on this wonderful journey we are so privileged to be making?

A few African facts.

The African continent could easily house the whole of China and India on its surface area.

The USA would fit easily into the north of Africa.

The population of The Gambia is just 2 million and if you think of London being around 10 million, that puts it into prospective.

Africa has around 1.2 billion people living across the continent against a world population of around 7.7 billion.

Lastly, I am pleased to say Channel 5 have been in touch and are arranging to film us out here for the next series of Million-pound mega motorhomes.

Of everyone featured in the first series, we are the only ones to be in the next series!

No idea what that means, but we will be hiding behind the sofa and squinting over the top to watch ourselves on national TV and asking each other – Does my bum look big in this?

Thank you for reading our blog

David and Charlotte.

Hitting the road in Senegal and turning up the heat.

It took around 10 days to be reunited with our truck and the whole thing was a nightmare. Corrupt officials in Casablanca had made the Morocco side of things a lot more expensive than we had expected but didn’t come near to what we paid in Dakar, Senegal. The system at the port is that you engage with a local agent and they hold your hand around all the departments to get the truck released from customs and the shipping company. It's slightly different to the Dover-Calais route? Before we left the UK, we had invested in a Carnet de passage (we had lodged a sum of money that if we sell either the truck or motorbike we lose the deposit we had lodged. We did this as it's compulsory in some countries to have one and beneficial in others, but obviously, the officials in Dakar didn’t agree. We were ferried around (excuse the pun) by our local agent for 3 days visiting office after office, paying bribe after bribe to get the official stamp from each department for what should have been free of charge. When I complained or questioned the payments, I was met with, ‘It’s up to you’. You pay the bribe or your truck isn’t released? The whole thing was terrible and scary when you are in a foreign country, not speaking the language (should have tried harder at school), but eventually we got our beloved truck returned to us. The 10 days in Dakar, pre truck reuniting was a real eye-opener and thrust us straight back into the hustle and bustle of African life. The traffic much denser, more people and much more happening and a frenetic pace, unlike the more laid back Morocco. We spent our time in Dakar walking the streets and soaking up the atmosphere. We noticed how tall the men were and 6 feet was normal. Beggars were everywhere, street vendors too. The strangest thing we saw being sold was we guess, fake copies of the game of Scrabble? When some guy tried to sell us an ironing board, it seemed almost a mountain to climb to explain we lived in a camping car and had no need of an ironing board? Poverty hit us like a runaway train. Amongst the beggars were a number of children equipped with plastic tubs and begging almost in packs. These children are scholars on the Koran. They are sent to the cities at a young age and housed in terrible conditions and sent out to beg all day and then study the Koran at night. This is not a swipe at Islam, just a fact of life. Once we had the truck, a night in Dakar was enough and we wanted to be out of the city and so we headed north following the small coastal roads stopping off for a couple of nights to rejig the truck after packing it down for shipping. We were heading for St.Louis and as soon as we arrived, we headed for a beachside park up to unwind and lick our wounds after the ordeal of shipping. Goats - A common site everywhere including town centers The fish was collected by many means including the well decorated horse and carts still common place in Senegal. St.Louis is an interesting town and many of the dilapidated buildings looked like a rundown New Orleans with their picket fence balconies now in various states of decay although the old town is a Unesco protected zone. St.Louis is the largest fishing port in Senegal and the Pirogues were brightly coloured and very photogenic. We also strolled the streets perusing the sand filled unmade roads and wondering how a principal town of such importance could function when it appeared that more than 50% of the streets had no hard standing, just the sand that was naturally there for a surface. The Fishing operation was fascinating and as the boats, and so many boats, came in, one after the other, the local women ran into the rubbish infested shallow water to buy their quota to presumably resell on the street corners. This practice was commonplace. We presume many women made their living in this way and the sight of fish displayed on wooden benches, covered in flies, with no refrigeration on most street corners became the norm. When we bought our Fish from premises slightly above this hygiene level, we still thanked our lucky stars every time we survived another meal without being ill. St.Louis also taught us if someone wanted to get your attention, they would bear their teeth and either suck or blow through them to make a hissing sound. It’s not the most attractive sound known to mankind and it took a while to accept that this was normal and was not meant in any way to be offensive. We also learned in St.Louis that the local Baboon society have learnt that humans are usually a good source of easy food. We sat outside the truck for breakfast, the day after my birthday, and I was able to read all the lovely birthday messages I had been sent. At the same time, and I was completely unaware, I was being stalked by a large male Baboon who crept up behind me and took my toast! After the initial shock, we laughed as the toast was coated in Bovril and we said, that will teach him, but as we looked at this large male not 20 meters away, he was licking the Bovril from the bread and disregarding the bread. When he came back for a second round (whoops, another pun), Charlotte stood up and shouted at the Baboon and he all but ignored Charlotte. It took a call from myself to scare him into retreat. He wasn’t scared of the female but was of the male? St Louis is, the last principal town before the Mauritanian border and was to be our last port of call before heading for Mauritania. We had a fixer to hand and all was going well and visas were being arranged although the border to Mauritania heading north is closed. Then the corruption started to raise its head again when the fixer suddenly overnight doubled his fees and we got worried, if we went to Mauritania on a dodgy visa, we are at the complete mercy of our fixer to get us back over the border to Senegal? So, decision made, no visit to Mauritania was about to happen. After a few physical threats towards me and a lot of negation, the fixer and I shook hands on a deal where we paid him for his time to date and all was good. This meant we needed to rethink our plan and move around our itinerary (it's always a loose plan anyway). The decision we came to was to head south again to Dakar to buy provisions. Part of the daily catch being prepared to be boxed and transported for sale. Whilst shopping, we were met with a chancer in the street who gave us the old, “Do you remember me. I am the waiter in your hotel routine” A scam to trick you into being embarrassed as you don’t remember and then you are easy prey to be sold a non-existent tour or, be asked for money to go and see his brother’s shop or whatever. This took us by surprise as we were the only tourists in town as far as we could see. We have encountered this one many times and have our well-rehearsed reply ready and countered the question about remembering him by saying very loudly ‘yes, I remember you’. You are the guy who was kissing your boyfriend in the club last night. I remember you both drinking Johnny Walker Scotch ! That usually sends them on their way in a Muslim country. Provisions bought and stored, we headed south/south east as this is really where many of the treasures we wanted to see in Senegal are located and as it was really the end of the Sahara and the start of the greener lands. Part of our provisioning was to buy 10 footballs and pumps (just what we need in such a compact space). These are being distributed when we see a group of kids in need of such a gift and it gives us great pleasure to see the faces light up when given the gift of a football. We anticipated our journey would take one or two days. It actually took 4 days and long days at that of driving across some pretty undulating terrain and a mix of dirt roads, some good tarmac and mostly, not so good! Along the way, we were stopped at many road side police and military checks and on two such occasions we were asked for money in exchange for not getting a ticket. A ticket for what we asked and challenged them to write us a ticket. We never did give the money and never did get the ticket. This is how the Dice role in this part of the world and we are well aware of some but not all of the tricks of the trade. This was also the start of the Red African dust, synonymous with much of the African continent as well as the Termite mounds most of which have been burnt out to stop the termites destroying the local homes. Our first port of call was the town of Kedougou and again, we parked up outside a hotel wall so we had security and a dinner in the restaurant before heading out in search of the tribes we had come to see. Further down the road, which was a selection of corrugated road surfaces, deep ditches that really tested our vehicle, we found accommodation at a local village that was near one of the tribal villages we wanted to visit. Again, parking up nearby gave us a base and we were able to ask around for help to see our intended tribal villages. The morning after we arrived, we set out early morning to trek for 2 hours up a hill to get to the village of Ibel with the help of a local guy in want of a few CFA (the local currency). Just a lovely photo showing the diversity of the streets. Another image of some of the roads This cheeky guy stole my toast and ate the Bovril before throwing away the bread! The women of the village chant and dance as part of the coming of age ceremony. This was a Bassari village and we knew May was the month the young boys had part of their initiation ceremony. Before I continue, I want to explain about the way the boys of the Bedik tribe transform from boys to men. When they are around 12 years old, they are taken from their parents, taken into the forest with their counterparts, given enough Rice for a few days and a Machete and a large stick. From there, they are alone and have to fend for themselves. They eat what they forage, kill, gut, prepare and cook. They are completely alone for several months before being brought back to the village where they are corralled together and unable to speak with anyone including their mum. They are kept in the village for a couple of days before being taken back to the forest for several more months. Finally, when they come back, they are classed as men and can look for a wife. I wanted to give them a bit of advice but the language barrier got in the way. My Bedik isn’t as good as it could be? On the day of our visit, the boys were back in the village which was quite by chance but an amazing opportunity for us. When entering the village after a gruelling hill climb we were scared by a man dressed completely in leaves with what looked like a hessian sack on his head and waving several large sticks at us. There were actually several of these guys in the village and their function was to ceremonially look after the boys by chasing away anyone and beating anyone that got near with the sticks. We were spared a beating as they were as surprised by us as we were by them. This ritual had developed into a game for some of the young men in the village and as we sat and watched, the tree men managed to trick a few youths into a pincer movement and the punishment was brutal and enough to say the sticks were thin and skin was broken. Whilst all this was happening the women had retreated to the edge of the village for safety and laid around on the ground, feeding babies, plaiting hair and adding more earrings to their multi-pierced ears. The village sustains life mainly by foraging for food, hunting for an odd animal or slaughtering a goat here and there and the only source of water was a well that they had to hand draw water from, situated at one end of the village. Women are there to cook and have babies. Men, to herd goats and forage/hunt for food. Cooking is in a pot on an open fire. Our local guide even said that the food they eat was basic which was rich as we had eaten with him the day before. No electricity, no running water and home was a hut made of mud with a thatched roof. This is Africa at its rawest, life is cheap here and staying alive is the top priority and that’s a tough ask. Medical help is only available from the local traditional medicine and a soft mattress is something they don’t even know what is. Their beds are made of wooden slats cut from the forest. Their beds are usually outside their homes because of the heat. Its 40+ degrees here and it never stops. Life is tough, really tough, but although they see little tourism if any, they remain civil and grateful of the small donation we made to the village for allowing us access. That in itself raises all kinds of ethical questions and questions Charlotte and I still don’t have the answers to? For Charlotte and I with our fancy truck and air conditioning, life is still hard. Our fridge freezer is working so hard to keep everything cool in the intense heat, it’s taking all the power from the batteries and if we turn on the generator to make more power, the batteries can’t take in the extra power as the safety system stops it as the batteries overheat. It’s a battle of first world problems. The only way around it is to get up around 4am when the temperature cools to a manageable 30 degrees and run the generator for a few hours before the heat returns. Even our solar panels are working overtime as well but such is the intensity of the heat, they don’t come anywhere near the power we need. It sounds terrible but we lay awake in the early hours, dreading the next onslaught of heat from the rising sun. We have to ensure we make ice last thing at night or the freezer won’t freeze it in time for our 6 pm sun downer - Can you imagine the hardship? Between village visits, we sat in the communal outdoor area of the local village sheltering from the blistering heat one day. Charlotte had her adult colouring book and gave a local little girl a similar colouring book. We are always a source of interest to the local kids. The three of us sat around a table colouring and typing away. It's surely a lesson in crossing barriers in some way, isn’t it? At least it shows that crossing the boundary between struggling for life and then being transported back to being a little girl again, even if it's for a fleeting moment isn’t hard to do and we have now added colouring books and pencils to our shopping list. A good nights’ sleep is something we dream of or would dream of if we could sleep? My closing gambit on the above is - It's hot, dusty and the heat makes it exhausting and it’s enough to say, we wouldn’t swap what we are doing for the world. A normal street in St.Louis More roads in need of a little TLC Some very exotic hair styles are all part of the tribal traditions. Food cooking under way in this traditional village, synonymous with how most of Senegalise people live. Preparation and dancing - all part of the ceremonies. Our second village was a village called Ethiolo. This was a simple hop, skip and a jump up a mountain a mere 45 minutes hike. Nothing I thought as we reached the village until it was explained to me they had no well in the village and all water was brought up in containers by the women on their heads. I leave that one to sink in a moment. It’s 40+ degrees remember and just sitting under a tree is an effort. The ceremony here was actually the day before the boys were brought back to the village and the women and some men chanted, drummed a beat and danced. When the tree men who looked the same as the other village appeared in the hills above the village, the group turned to face them and sang and danced to them in what we understood to be an incitement to bring them down and into the village to protect the boys who would be brought home the next day. The colours, the sounds and the privilege to be part of something so special will stay with us forever. As the day drew on and the afternoon arrived, large wooden bowls hewn out of a local vegetable/fruit (don’t ask me what) appeared, we understood it was time for the ceremonial drinking of the Millet beer. Again, few if any tourists make it this far and we knew what was coming as the bowls seemed to arrive into my reach at an alarming regular interval and after my first sip, I soon learnt to hold the bowl to my mouth with my lips tightly pursed. Again the experience was beyond our wildest dreams and the colours, the noises and the smells were mesmerising. With so little, they appear to enjoy the simple ceremonies so much. It was an honour to witness this. We headed from the villages back West and towards The Gambia stopping overnight where we attracted a group of kids who wanted desperately to see the inside of the truck. Their faces were a picture and their fascination at having a kitchen sink with a tap that dispensed water was beguiling and brought home the harsh reality of the way in which they live. We hope to enter The Gambia in the next couple of days but as this is now the end of May, we have to look forward and the rainy season starts next month. That means challenging driving conditions, uncertain access to many places and worst of all, Killer Mosquito and Malaria. We have our tablets ready for the start and await our fate of what the next leg will bring us. This is turning out to be a truly humbling and life changing trip. We can’t wait to see more. A few Senegal facts Population 16 million equally divided men and women. Age expectancy 67 Geographic size around 1.2 times the size of the UK Main export - Fish and Ground nuts Average earning per month - £450.00 I hope thats all okay and thank you for reading our story. One of the tree people. As we understood they dress up as trees to protect the boys when they come back to the village. A Bassari elder watching it all happen around her. A little girl coloring a book with Charlotte. Giving her a rest from doing the chores she is normally tasked with and allowing her to be a little girl, just for a short while. A couple of boys back in the village for the ceremony before being taken back to the forest. They are home for a couple of days but not allowed to speak when in the village. Connect 4. A great game to break the language barrier and always a hit as well as a travelers staple. Village life and the very normal way of life in Senegal away from the cities. 

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