Kuntaur: Welcome to most come

It’s been a hot dusty day.

It started at 10am when I left to look for a/ breakfast food & b/ transport to Wassu. Wassu is a village about 70km East of Farafenni and it’s famous for its stone circles, which are even on UNESCO world heritage list.

I failed at breakfast. I bought a baguette-like bread and two hard-boiled eggs from a lady on the street, I bought one more egg for a begging boy (there are very many begging children around) and while I walked with the food wrapped in Swedish (!) newspaper wondering how to open the eggs and where to sit I saw breakfast chop joints. Literally a dozen. People sitting on benches, getting their omelettes or even grilled meat, chips, coffee & tea. Ugh. I sat down myself but only had coffee (instant, I don’t even dare to dream of anything else around here) and my poor food.

Then on to transport. Someone took me to a sept-place. And guess what! Baggage fares are back! And how. It’s 120D for a human and 100D for a rucksack. I managed to bring it down to 80D, I got nevertheless pissed off, this is a rip-off. I promised myself to be a better negotiator next time and maybe look for a minibus although it’s not as if there is choice.

We set off through what almost looks like savanna, there is sometimes grass growing, my driver unpleasant as hell. I asked him if he can drop me by the turn-off to the circles, he didn’t understand what I mean. Then I asked the Wassu policeman to explain to him and he refused to listen.

I asked one of the shopkeepers to store my rucksack while i go to the circles. The road is well-marked and it’s a maybe 10-minute walk to the site. The entry ticket is 100D. There was I and and a couple of neon-shirted Estonians. In this environment they must be seen from space.

The circles aren’t Stonehenge but they are quite impressive, several circles of about 12 menhirs, the largest was about 3m high.

I walked back to the shop, I was given some sweet Mauritanian style tea. I didn’t know it’s here in Gambia!

Then the waiting started.

I was meaning to overnight in a nearby town of Kuntaur, 3kms away. Taxis demanded 200D which I found too much. The shopkeepers was on alert to find public transport for me. Then yet another taxi driver showed up and went down to 100D ($2, €1.90, 8zł) but no, I already overpaid today once, can’t do it again.

I decided to walk. It was 2pm. I think I wasn’t the first white tourist to walk as people weren’t too surprised seeing me. It was quite a pleasant walk, it was probably hot but at the same it’s still dry so one doesn’t feel it. When I reached the guesthouse – Karoh Garden, the only one in Kuntaur – I drank 1.5l in 15 minutes.

On my way at the Kuntaur police station I met Mamadou who showed me the way to the guesthouse. His brother runs the boats to Baboon Islands, where there are formerly captured chimpanzees released to the wild.

A room in Karoh Garden costs 450D with bathroom, 350D without bathroom. I splurged. The guesthouse is also the only place in town where food is served and the food isn’t too cheap. Lunch – a sandwich – is 150D. Dinner is 250D.

I was thinking to take the boat along Gambia River to see the hippos and the monkeys but I was asked to pay first 2000D in the guesthouse and then I was told 1500D is the last price. Man, boats are expensive! I tried the gents lazying around outside and they, including Mamadou’s brother, were even less cooperating. Lowest I heard was 1800D. The price that the caretaker of the stone circles site in Wassu told me was 1500D.

I

just walked around the town instead. And poor town it is. Many houses are ruins, fences are made from corrugated iron, children, there is an abandoned ship in the shore, next to a dead rice mill. Children are running around, they all want to be my friend. They all keep asking for a mint, a sweets, a pen, money. I gave a small boy a bottle of water and sometime later he ran up to me and patted my wallet in a pocket. One of the teenagers was asking for a phone.

At one point I had 7 children just walking with me but at the end only one boy left, named Seiku. 9 years old, goes to madrasa, he didn’t speak English. Then as I wanted to buy him a soft drink in a shop, another boy on a bicycle showed up, named Samba. 11 years old, goes to secular school, speaks very good English. As I was walking around they wouldn’t let me go.

The dinner I had was chicken and rice with peanut sauce, quite tasty. Then I remembered that across the street from the village shop there is something that might be a bar. There was a chalkboard with times of football matches on the wall but in daylight the doors were closed.

I asked in the guesthouse about the beer. They pointed me to a lady two or three compounds behind the police station selling it. I went.

It was pitch black, Orion in zenith. I peeped into the place with the football match schedule. It was a cinema. Benches and chairs facing a large white screen on which a projector was showing the match. People stared at it in silence. No beer.

I walked past the police station and people pointed me to the shop. There was a sign above it: Welcome to most come. A slightly lisping lady was serving some policeman in a car and yes, she does have beer. The bottles are clinging in a bucket, it’s warm, it’s a bit overpriced at 75D per small bottle and I have to return the bottles tomorrow but I got it.

I returned to Karoh Garden content. I even started reconsidering the boat trip tomorrow morning. Insha’Allah.

Today I drank at least 6l of water.