We set out from Banjul at 6 am with two Gambia Volunteers who were going back to their sites up country. We got on the ferry in Banjul and crossed to the north side of the Gambia River where we hired a "sept-place" (seven seater station wagon) to take us to Basse, the a main town on the eastern end of the country. We lucked out and got a really nice car. Most sept-places in West Africa have been operating about 10 years longer than is physically possible. They truly are a modern marvel.
We left the north bank relatively quickly and drove up country for about six hours to Basse. Along the way we passed through about twenty police check points, which in my point is utterly ridiculous. About 45 minutes before our final destination we had to cross back to the south bank of the river. Here the river was much narrower and the ferry much less sophisticated. So basic in fact, that we actually had to pull the ferry across the river by hand with a steel cable. The "ferry" was basically a large pontoon that could carry two cars. In Basse we had dinner and stayed the night at a PC transit house.
The next morning we were up at 7 am and in a crappy, old sept-place by 8 am. We drove for about an hour before reaching the Gambia/Senegal border. Here, again, we had to get out passport stamped to leave and enter. All the locals had their bags searched for drugs at the Senegal post. The white people were apparently carrying invisible "we don't need to be searched" cards that we weren't aware of.
(Exhibit A: A typcial sept-place)
Now in Senegal, we had to change sept-places in Velingara. We ran into a bit of trouble when the guy in charge of the car tried to charge us a huge amount of money for each of our bags and wouldn't budge on the price. Then, amazingly, an English speaking Gambian that we had never talked to before (and was in our car) came to our rescue and got in the car drivers face, laid down the law and got us a fair price for our baggage. It was sweet. Our next stop was Tambacounda. You'll remember this is where the bus had been robbed on our way to Dakar.
When we got into town we told our driver we wanted to go to the bus station that would take us to Kayes (in Mali). He didn't know where it was, so he pulled off on the main road next to a taxi and let us out. We told the taxi driver the same thing and negotiated a price. The car started taking us back the way we had come. Then it turned and we started running parallel to where we had been dropped off. Then the car turned again and we came out exactly where we had been picked up. The car went about 200 ft down the road to the exact spot where the bus had previously been robbed. The taxi driver had played us for out-of-towners. What the crap!
We tried shaming the guy by telling all the people at the shops along the road what had happened. They all just kind of shrugged... Apparently they all knew the driver. Also, we had not been dropped off at a bus station, but rather a gas station. This was somewhat troubling, but some guys said they would get a bus for us. This might sound weird, but it happens everywhere in West Africa, so we weren't worried.
The remainder of this section is scripted out, or it would be very confusing...
Us: We want a bus to Kayes.
Guys: Ok. There is a bus to Kayes in an hour or a bus direct to Bamako in five hours.
Us: We want the bus to Kayes. No, Bamako. No Kayes.
Guys: Ok. While you wait, come to our friends house. The taxi will take you there and back and only charge for the return trip.
Us: Sounds shady. No thanks. We'll eat lunch here and wait.
...a bit later.
Us: Where's the bus?
Guys: Down the road a bit. The taxi will take you. The only want one million dollars to take you a few blocks.
Us: Thanks. We'll walk.
Guys: Ok. We'll show you the way.
...walk a little bit. Arrive at someone's house.
Guys: Ok. Have a seat.
Us: Where's the bus. It's supposed to leave in ten minutes.
Guys: The ticket guy is coming. Have a seat.
Us: Where is the mother-f-ing bus?
Ticket Guy: You want tickets?
Us: Yes. But where is the bus. Its supposed to leave in less than five minutes.
Ticket Guy: It's coming. It will be here in four hours.
Us: Four hours? The bus to Kayes? It leaves now.
Ticket Guy: These are tickets for the bus to Bamako. It goes through Kayes though.
Us: We're outa here!
...walk to the main road. Guys follow us.
Guys: Come this way. The buses are over here.
...we follow, quite annoyed. We come to a bus that we had passed on our way to the random dude's house.
Us: Does this bus go to Kayes?
Bus Driver: It goes to the border. We leave in five minutes.
Us: Good enough. We'll get something else there. (We just wanted to leave Tambacounda at this point)
Bus Driver: It's 5000 CFA per person for this bus.
Us: The ticket sign next to you says it's 2500 CFA per person.
Bus Driver: Not for you.
Us: Horse apples! Cows dung! Bull shit it does!
...after much protesting.
Bus Driver: 2500 per person.
Us: That's what we thought!
Luggage Guys: It's 500 CFA per bag
First group of Guys that brought us to the bus: It's 1000 CFA per bag!
Us: It's 500 CFA for all the bags put together!!!! Gaaaah!
When we finally got on the bus we were so furious we could hardly speak. We just wanted to be moving. We kept looking out the windows to make sure our bags had actually been loaded on the bus. We had survived being ripped off by a taxi, a run-around by some dudes who just wanted to hang out with white people for an afternoon, a bus driver who tried to rip us off, luggage handlers who tried to get money out of us, and the malice of the first group of guys who tried to get the baggage price even higher in order to collect a "finders fee" for brining us to the bus in the first place.
Evidently fate had gotten wind of our good fortune from the morning in Velingara and sought to even things out in the afternoon.
We made it to Kayes that night without much more trouble, spent the night in Kayes and made it to Bamako the following evening where more fun was in store.
Sounds similar to my Turkey experience. Except at one point I ended up naked in some house/bath place getting massaged by a hairy old guy in a towel who spoke no english. The massage was good, didn't complain too much.
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