Dedicated to the One I Love
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I get the bed under the mosquito net, Papa’s on the mattress on the floor. Sometimes that’s the way it be. The people of Sotama Sere want to give the honored guest the bed and Papa, here in his home town, is one of the people. On the other hand, Papa’s earned eternal shotgun in the car, with me in the middle in the back so that Karamo and Bea can have easy access to recording and shooting.
Travel Guide Updates
The guidebooks say 5-6 hours from Banjul-Basse, which is the district capital five miles away from S-S. It took us 10-1/2. We did stop for lunch in Ferrafini, and searched for a restaurant Karamo knew of. When we found Eddy’s, by the Youth Center, it looked great, sweet little courtyard, but it wasn’t until we sat down, relaxed and ordered that we learned that if we wanted chicken (we did) they’d start cooking now, we’d eat in an hour or so. So it was off to find Todie’s Fast Food (I have mentioned there are no addresses, period), which is closed so it’s a one table home cooking delicious cheb’n-jen with these little bitter squash that were superb. We also stopped to shoot a cow herd and the boys with it, one of whom played a lonely melody on a Fulani flute, probably not accounted for in the guidebook’s estimate. Might as well mention that the ten hour trip Dakar-Banjul took us nine, including the border officer’s giving me a Koran when I said I’d write him a letter of recommendation to get into Columbia.
There are three ferries – ferries more common than bridges here. Banjul to Barra is the worst. Even though all three ferries were working, even though we paid the baksheesh to get through the barrier and the additional to get past the gate into the loading area and the additional to jump the queue – which failed, by the way, and I got sent to the car for complaining, but Papa did get the money back – it still took us an hour and a half just to get on board. The second ferry, in Georgetown, was at the other side when we arrived, and took forty minutes to decide to return, even though it only holds four cars. And the last ferry, just a few miles past Georgetown was really scary – by now it was 7pm, dark, and the two-car ferry was at the other side and wouldn’t return until a car came to the other side. The only person on the riverbank was a woman sewing by flashlight, and Papa asked her if she had the phone number of anyone on the other side of the placid, deep and gorgeous Gambia River, thinking we could offer double (price of car and four passengers is 57 Dalasi, $2.20), but she just laughed. I was settling down to sleep in the car, but luck was with us, yes, and a car arrived on the other side in less than ten minutes. The final fifty miles was on the south road, which has fallen into total disrepair since the last time Papa was here. It took two hours to get to SS.
Dedication
Papa and I are abed and talking about Ram and the budget, how much to leave these people at Sotuma. “It’s a good thing it could only be you and you’re here,” he says, referring to Binta and Grandma. I agree. And then it comes to me – we’ll dedicate the film to them. And to my wife Elizabeth who died last year, my inspiration for life’s ongoingness. “Hamddu’Allah,” Papa breathes contentedly. He sleeps. I hop across him to get to the hole in the ground covered by a metal dinner plate that suffices. Up above, the Milky Way is the creamiest I’ve ever seen.
Karamo and I are talking.
What’s more different, French and English or Mandinka and Wolof?
They are about the same difference. French and English are the same at the roots, so are Mandinka and Wolof.
How about Fulani?
Oh nooo! Fulani is completely different! I don ‘t speak it.
This for three languages that overlap greatly for hundreds of miles.
Bob Holman is the host of a new travel series focused on endangered languages called ON THE ROAD WITH BOB HOLMAN on LINK TV. He traveled to West Africa, Middle East and Asia and these are his blog stories from his travels. More information at http://www.rattapallax.com/blog/on_the_road/
Travel Guide Updates
The guidebooks say 5-6 hours from Banjul-Basse, which is the district capital five miles away from S-S. It took us 10-1/2. We did stop for lunch in Ferrafini, and searched for a restaurant Karamo knew of. When we found Eddy’s, by the Youth Center, it looked great, sweet little courtyard, but it wasn’t until we sat down, relaxed and ordered that we learned that if we wanted chicken (we did) they’d start cooking now, we’d eat in an hour or so. So it was off to find Todie’s Fast Food (I have mentioned there are no addresses, period), which is closed so it’s a one table home cooking delicious cheb’n-jen with these little bitter squash that were superb. We also stopped to shoot a cow herd and the boys with it, one of whom played a lonely melody on a Fulani flute, probably not accounted for in the guidebook’s estimate. Might as well mention that the ten hour trip Dakar-Banjul took us nine, including the border officer’s giving me a Koran when I said I’d write him a letter of recommendation to get into Columbia.
There are three ferries – ferries more common than bridges here. Banjul to Barra is the worst. Even though all three ferries were working, even though we paid the baksheesh to get through the barrier and the additional to get past the gate into the loading area and the additional to jump the queue – which failed, by the way, and I got sent to the car for complaining, but Papa did get the money back – it still took us an hour and a half just to get on board. The second ferry, in Georgetown, was at the other side when we arrived, and took forty minutes to decide to return, even though it only holds four cars. And the last ferry, just a few miles past Georgetown was really scary – by now it was 7pm, dark, and the two-car ferry was at the other side and wouldn’t return until a car came to the other side. The only person on the riverbank was a woman sewing by flashlight, and Papa asked her if she had the phone number of anyone on the other side of the placid, deep and gorgeous Gambia River, thinking we could offer double (price of car and four passengers is 57 Dalasi, $2.20), but she just laughed. I was settling down to sleep in the car, but luck was with us, yes, and a car arrived on the other side in less than ten minutes. The final fifty miles was on the south road, which has fallen into total disrepair since the last time Papa was here. It took two hours to get to SS.
Dedication
Papa and I are abed and talking about Ram and the budget, how much to leave these people at Sotuma. “It’s a good thing it could only be you and you’re here,” he says, referring to Binta and Grandma. I agree. And then it comes to me – we’ll dedicate the film to them. And to my wife Elizabeth who died last year, my inspiration for life’s ongoingness. “Hamddu’Allah,” Papa breathes contentedly. He sleeps. I hop across him to get to the hole in the ground covered by a metal dinner plate that suffices. Up above, the Milky Way is the creamiest I’ve ever seen.
Karamo and I are talking.
What’s more different, French and English or Mandinka and Wolof?
They are about the same difference. French and English are the same at the roots, so are Mandinka and Wolof.
How about Fulani?
Oh nooo! Fulani is completely different! I don ‘t speak it.
This for three languages that overlap greatly for hundreds of miles.
Bob Holman is the host of a new travel series focused on endangered languages called ON THE ROAD WITH BOB HOLMAN on LINK TV. He traveled to West Africa, Middle East and Asia and these are his blog stories from his travels. More information at http://www.rattapallax.com/blog/on_the_road/
