Marching Along the Road
This past Saturday, I ventured to visit my friend (also a newly sworn-in Volunteer) at her nearby site. According to Gambian transportation experts (i.e. Peace Corps drivers), there were two different ways of traveling to my friend's site. I took the most direct route, which oddly enough had the most transport changes and was least expensive (Three vehicle changes in total, at a cost of 5 delasi each).
After my experience (recounted below), let me just say I'm glad I had much practice in NYC with flagging down taxis and navigating the subway (no subway here, though). Now, I'm not saying that Gambia's transportation system (or make-shift system) is by any means more difficult or complicated than NYC's---in all honesty, it's just different and that's the only way I can describe it.
*Note: I navigated all this alone.*
Scene 1: Don't try to rip me off---I'm NOT a tourist
So...the adventure started around 2:30pm when I left the PC hostel and headed to the traffic light (yes it's known as THE traffic light). There, I flagged down a taxi, with the hopes that I would only pay the five delasi fare in order to get to the next stop where I would flag down another five delasi fare taxi. Well, the first taxi driver I hailed assured me before I hopped in the vehicle that I would pay five delasi to the next stop. As we started driving, he proceeded to avoid confirming the fare as 5 delasi. (You know I asked him if the fare was 5 delasi several times, phrased in different ways, as I'm a person who needs to confirm things about 30 times). After a few moments, he stated that I had to pay a flat rate of 25 delasi. To which I said "25 delasi?!? No...5!" He then proceeded to drive me *almost* to the stop where I needed to go. He dropped me, literally at the side of the road (near another intersection, however, not the one where I needed to dropped). However, I am convinced that because of my *saucy* attitude (he told me I was "quite saucy" during our drive)and the fact that I made him feel pretty guilty about *trying* to take advantage of me, he didn't charge me ANYTHING at all. Score!!! Sometimes it's good to be "saucy".
Scene 2: Close encounters with the Rasta-kind
(Refresh: Taxi driver #1 left me by the side of the road.) I slammed the door of taxi #1 and looked for a group of people at my unintended stop to ask for directions/advice as to how to flag a taxi (that wouldn't rip me off). Unfortunately, the first people I saw were some rather suspicious looking characters (suspicious in that they were of the Rasta/bumster variety---look up bumster in a Gambian travel guide and come back and continue reading). I tried to scurry past them to a group of people beyond the suspicious looking characters, but I had no such luck as the suspicious looking characters were unavoidable along the path. They stopped me and asked me how I was. I told them where I needed to go. Conveniently and oh so coincidentally, one of the suspicious characters stated, he was a taxi driver! Rather than listen to his schpeal, I listened to my conscience which clearly told me that this guy was NO GOOD. Rasta-bumster man said I had to hire a taxi (with him being the driver, of course) and he'd charge me 100 delasi to take me to my friend's village directly. I immediately said "No way!" and asked him how far my 1st stop destination was. He said a ten minute walk, to which I said, "Thanks for your help. I'm walking. Goodbye!" He yelled, "If you would talk nicely to me, I'd take you for less than 100." I yelled back, "No way! You're not taking me anywhere!" and marched back to the road. (Picture Steph walking in the dirt alongside an urban West African paved road. It's like a movie, isn't it?)
Scene 3: Befriending a young woman with a baby
As I began my march towards stop #1 (yep, still hadn't reached my first stop yet), I smirked as I realized I just blew off Rasta-bumster man. Go Me! As I basked in my glory, I quickly snapped back to reality and realized that I *almost* missed the opportunity to possibly get another taxi that would take me to my first transfer stop. As a taxi pulled away, I yelled for it to wait and the driver pulled back over to the dirt shoulder. And guess what?! The taxi was headed where I wanted to go! I was taken to stop #1 wit no hassle and no problem. When I arrived to stop #1, the taxi driver directed me to the correct taxi for stop #2. As we rode to stop #2, I laughed at how ridiculously amusing, yet satisfying my life has become as at that moment. I was sitting in the backseat of a old Mercedes-Benz, painted yellow, with green stripes on its sides, between two very tall, thin Gambian men. Upon my arrival to stop #2, I befriended a mother, her young daughter, and the daughter's infant. Guess what?! They were traveling to my friend's village!
As I sat on a plastic mayonnaise tub, now filled with sour milk (the mother-daughter duo had been carrying it and placed it on the dirt for me to sit on), I practiced my Mandinka as we waited at the intersection for 30 minutes. My horrific, yet amusing experience in the beginning of my trek was now a distant memory. With the assistance of the mother-daughter duo, I caught the last transport vehicle to my friend's village. As I sat in the back of the gutted Toyota van, with my whiteness pervading through the windows so that every child we passed on the street could scream 'Toubab!', I realized that I was going to arrive in one piece and that I was living my dream, yet again. And more importantly, I took all the incidents in stride and with a smile on my face.
The recurring dream that I've had since I was about 15 years-old of navigating through an African country, communicating (albeit poorly), confidently, but cautiously, were now a reality. Something tells me I'm going to keep on livin' it...
(If only I could walk around filming these such incidents...)
After my experience (recounted below), let me just say I'm glad I had much practice in NYC with flagging down taxis and navigating the subway (no subway here, though). Now, I'm not saying that Gambia's transportation system (or make-shift system) is by any means more difficult or complicated than NYC's---in all honesty, it's just different and that's the only way I can describe it.
*Note: I navigated all this alone.*
Scene 1: Don't try to rip me off---I'm NOT a tourist
So...the adventure started around 2:30pm when I left the PC hostel and headed to the traffic light (yes it's known as THE traffic light). There, I flagged down a taxi, with the hopes that I would only pay the five delasi fare in order to get to the next stop where I would flag down another five delasi fare taxi. Well, the first taxi driver I hailed assured me before I hopped in the vehicle that I would pay five delasi to the next stop. As we started driving, he proceeded to avoid confirming the fare as 5 delasi. (You know I asked him if the fare was 5 delasi several times, phrased in different ways, as I'm a person who needs to confirm things about 30 times). After a few moments, he stated that I had to pay a flat rate of 25 delasi. To which I said "25 delasi?!? No...5!" He then proceeded to drive me *almost* to the stop where I needed to go. He dropped me, literally at the side of the road (near another intersection, however, not the one where I needed to dropped). However, I am convinced that because of my *saucy* attitude (he told me I was "quite saucy" during our drive)and the fact that I made him feel pretty guilty about *trying* to take advantage of me, he didn't charge me ANYTHING at all. Score!!! Sometimes it's good to be "saucy".
Scene 2: Close encounters with the Rasta-kind
(Refresh: Taxi driver #1 left me by the side of the road.) I slammed the door of taxi #1 and looked for a group of people at my unintended stop to ask for directions/advice as to how to flag a taxi (that wouldn't rip me off). Unfortunately, the first people I saw were some rather suspicious looking characters (suspicious in that they were of the Rasta/bumster variety---look up bumster in a Gambian travel guide and come back and continue reading). I tried to scurry past them to a group of people beyond the suspicious looking characters, but I had no such luck as the suspicious looking characters were unavoidable along the path. They stopped me and asked me how I was. I told them where I needed to go. Conveniently and oh so coincidentally, one of the suspicious characters stated, he was a taxi driver! Rather than listen to his schpeal, I listened to my conscience which clearly told me that this guy was NO GOOD. Rasta-bumster man said I had to hire a taxi (with him being the driver, of course) and he'd charge me 100 delasi to take me to my friend's village directly. I immediately said "No way!" and asked him how far my 1st stop destination was. He said a ten minute walk, to which I said, "Thanks for your help. I'm walking. Goodbye!" He yelled, "If you would talk nicely to me, I'd take you for less than 100." I yelled back, "No way! You're not taking me anywhere!" and marched back to the road. (Picture Steph walking in the dirt alongside an urban West African paved road. It's like a movie, isn't it?)
Scene 3: Befriending a young woman with a baby
As I began my march towards stop #1 (yep, still hadn't reached my first stop yet), I smirked as I realized I just blew off Rasta-bumster man. Go Me! As I basked in my glory, I quickly snapped back to reality and realized that I *almost* missed the opportunity to possibly get another taxi that would take me to my first transfer stop. As a taxi pulled away, I yelled for it to wait and the driver pulled back over to the dirt shoulder. And guess what?! The taxi was headed where I wanted to go! I was taken to stop #1 wit no hassle and no problem. When I arrived to stop #1, the taxi driver directed me to the correct taxi for stop #2. As we rode to stop #2, I laughed at how ridiculously amusing, yet satisfying my life has become as at that moment. I was sitting in the backseat of a old Mercedes-Benz, painted yellow, with green stripes on its sides, between two very tall, thin Gambian men. Upon my arrival to stop #2, I befriended a mother, her young daughter, and the daughter's infant. Guess what?! They were traveling to my friend's village!
As I sat on a plastic mayonnaise tub, now filled with sour milk (the mother-daughter duo had been carrying it and placed it on the dirt for me to sit on), I practiced my Mandinka as we waited at the intersection for 30 minutes. My horrific, yet amusing experience in the beginning of my trek was now a distant memory. With the assistance of the mother-daughter duo, I caught the last transport vehicle to my friend's village. As I sat in the back of the gutted Toyota van, with my whiteness pervading through the windows so that every child we passed on the street could scream 'Toubab!', I realized that I was going to arrive in one piece and that I was living my dream, yet again. And more importantly, I took all the incidents in stride and with a smile on my face.
The recurring dream that I've had since I was about 15 years-old of navigating through an African country, communicating (albeit poorly), confidently, but cautiously, were now a reality. Something tells me I'm going to keep on livin' it...
(If only I could walk around filming these such incidents...)
posted by Stephanie at 9:13 AM
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