Some Gap Year Tales

It’s hardly an original idea to blog about African Gap Yah stories. But hey, people like stories and I’ve got a few. Plus, some of these things make me chuckle as I reminisce - quite therapeutic at times!

As many readers will know, my first experience of the Gambia was on my Gap Year (2004 - 2005). That trip was probably the best 4 months of my life. Friendships formed, experiences enjoyed, lessons learned, all that… All within a life-changing course of Bible study and growing in appreciation of the wonder of the good news of Jesus.

I then had a slightly different experience in 2009 when I ended up (story for another time) as leader of that year’s Gap Team back to the Gambia. That was unquestionably the most challenging and stretching 4 months of my life. And there were a number of particularly memorable / hair-raising moments from that trip, which come back to mind quite often now that I’m back in the country.

So, since this year’s Gap Team here are currently thinking about where they might go on a bit of holiday at some point, here are 3 experiences to learn from…


1. Don’t photograph the police station

Janjanbureh (or Georgetown - old name that many people still use) is a small town about half-way up the country on a little island in the River Gambia. We were quietly walking around the new and interesting place, soaking up the peaceful atmosphere, taking photographs, and observing some interesting historical sights.

I remember the exact sandy road we were walking along, spread out in small groups happily chatting, when I noticed, fifty metres ahead of me, one of the girls on the team being whisked into a small police station by a couple of officers. Huh. Not ideal…

Cheeky monkeys eyeing up our breakfast at Janjanbureh

I upped my pace and went in to see what was happening. The poor girl was sat the other side of a big desk manned by two very stern (and clearly rather bored) police officers. I recall her taking her head out of her hands, catching my eye, and mouthing nervously through her tears, “I’m sorry!”

I was told that she was under arrest, and would need to be summoned to go to court. Her offence: taking a photo of the police station. Her small camera had been confiscated as evidence. A lot of talking ensued as I tried to strike that crucial and difficult balance of calmness and confidence. Many times we looked at the photo; I explained that I could simply delete it with a couple of button presses and it could never be used for anything. The idea was strongly rejected as it would result in destroying the evidence against her - it would be needed in court!

Sadly I knew well that by simply reaching into my pocket, I could almost certainly extinguish the nasty situation very easily. With my hand hovering over my pocket, and the girl weeping in the corner of my eye, I somehow resolved not to go that way.

Eventually, after batting away several rounds of “So what do you want to do now?” (= cue to reach into pocket...), the charge was dropped and, after deleting the photo, the girl and I were free to leave. We could rejoin the rest of the praying and rather worried team outside the station.


2. Keep an eye on your food supplies

After Janjanbureh we headed downstream on a boat and found an idyllic river-side lodge to stay at for a couple of nights. It was a stunningly peaceful and beautiful spot.

The River Gambia

On the first night, the girls were unpacking in their hut, and we boys were playing cards by the bar/restaurant. Our game was interrupted by a sudden series of shrieks from the girls’ hut. We gallantly charged across to our troubled sisters, carrying torches and candles across the power-less site.

Inside the hut, we found our sisters standing on beds, flapping arms around in horror, desperately pleading, “DO SOMETHING!!” / “HELP!!” / “AAAAAAARGH!!”

All over the floor of the round hut (a few square metres in area) were dozens of cockroaches - each a few inches long - frantically scuttling around. One of the girls had opened a rucksack with food supplies in for the team holiday, and some of the fruit (a grapefruit? some mangoes?) clearly should have been eaten sooner rather than later… Presumably, something had begun to go a bit off and, in its dark bag, had attracted this army of big hard-shelled bugs.

The first mode of attack just came to mind instinctively. We hopped around the hut, treading on the things, occasionally removing a flip-flop to use as a thwacker. Limited success though - there were just too many energetic creepy-crawlies.

The next idea was at the same time genius, stupidly dangerous, and a lot of fun. (Don't try this at home.) Several of us were holding candles to light our way. Someone piped up amidst the mayhem - “Pass me that deodorant.” Before you could say “Cockroach catastrophe”, there was a squad of flame-thrower-armed boys chasing and scorching the little wretches, enjoying what had now become a pretty hilarious and undeniably fun pursuit! Either the infamous beasts were chased into a corner and fried, or they were scared out of the river-side hut, on to the little balcony, and over the edge into the river.

New form of hunting sport, perhaps…?


3. Try not to become drug mules (with a concussed casualty)

Jinnack Island… A very beautiful, yet slightly mysterious spot. It’s a strip of coastland on the
generally less populated north bank of the River Gambia, cut off from the mainland by small tributaries. People say that, because of some old spiritual traditions, police don’t tend to go there and leave the people to look after themselves...

Canoe to the lodge

After crossing by ferry from the capital on the south bank, Banjul, we took a couple of 4x4s which would take us through the bush to the edge of the stream. A dugout canoe carried us across to the island.

Immediately it was slightly disappointing. Sadly the guide book had been misinterpreted and what we thought was going to be a beautiful beach-side lodge actually turned out to be on the ‘beach’ of this little tributary, not the actual (beautiful) ocean beach on the other side of the island. Still, it was a quiet and nice enough spot so we made do.

After settling in we decided to walk across the island (only an hour or so) to the sea. It was at this point that we found ourselves walking past huge crop fields of… could it be?… yep - a very distinctively shaped and aromatic ‘weed’... Huh. Upon returning to the lodge it quickly became evident - somewhat given away by the stuff laid out openly to dry in the sun - that this place was little more than a front for a farm of the stuff. Right…

All of this, combined with some of the staff not being wholly pleasant to the girls on the team, led to a decision to pull the plug on this somewhat sub-optimal venue and head on to somewhere more reliable. So we decided to leave the next day. I asked for the ‘manager’ to get a couple of pick-up trucks to take us back to the ferry terminal. Since we weren’t purchasing any of the ‘specials’ from the menu I don’t think he was devastated to see us leave.

When the time came, I was told that the car was ready for us on the other side of the stream. Just the one. For 12 of us. And the driver, and whoever else, and all our luggage. Ok… Such is life. TIA. So we all piled in to the pick-up: Mama with the driver and someone else in the cabin, the 12 of us with all our stuff and a few hangers-on crammed into the back.

Squeezing in to the truck

Tom was sat in one of the back corners, leaning against both the long edge of the truck and the rear tailgate. I was next to him. As we bounced along the very bumpy bush track, I was surprised to see that, instead of holding on, Tom was tucking his arms inside his t-shirt. He was trying to shield his rather pale limbs from the hot midday sun beating down on us. Understandable, but the rest of us were holding on pretty tight! He responded to my suggestion to hold on with (you couldn’t script it…), “Jonny - my sense of balance is impeccable.” Right then - no kidding - a big bump in the road made something on the tailgate come loose and it flung open. Tom immediately fell, whacking his head on the truck, and landed out on the dirt road, motionless.

That image is frozen in my mind like a photograph. Looking back from the truck at Tom’s body lying there, still, in the middle of this track, in the middle of nowhere. Instinctively I and a couple of others leapt out of the moving truck whilst others screamed and shouted to the driver to stop. In my memory, it happened in slow-motion. Reassuringly, Tom quickly came round, having been unconscious only briefly. He was clearly confused, asking lots of questions in a dozey voice.

Not only was this journey rather uncomfortable and very hot, now the team were panicked and worried about poor Tom and the general safety of us all travelling in this truck. A debate ensued about whether we should all carry on, or if half should go on with Tom whilst others waited for another vehicle. I made the call to stay together. It would be hours for another vehicle to come pick people up from here. But the safety of the truck was a serious concern. I had a firm word with the driver, insisting he drive more slowly and carefully.

It was only after all this drama, as we approached the town and the security check-points, that people began to notice the bags in amongst all our stuff that weren’t our bags… I guess they belonged to the hangers-on, whoever they were. Wait a second… Sure enough, along with all our things, we were sitting on several bags full of freshly harvested ‘goods’. Oh dear. We urgently had to get Tom seen to quickly though. On we went, in faith…!

Praise God, there were no issues at the checkpoints. We made it to the ferry terminal, only to have to wait there for what felt like forever for the ferry to come. During the hours of waiting, I phoned back to our UK mission organisation to fill them in. How thankful I was for a calm and reassuring English voice on the other end of the phone.

Eventually we boarded the ferry. By now, people were getting pretty anxious about Tom. Rather worryingly, he would ask a series of questions, only to receive answers, and then ask the exact same questions, word for word, five minutes later: ‘So where have we been?’ / ‘What happened?’ / ‘Where are we going now?’ / ‘Did I wet myself?!’ (he did - from the shock of the collision.) He’d clearly lost a chunk of short-term memory, and it was concerning. To keep him quiet - for the sake of the worrying team - I figured that I could write out the answers to his repeated questions on a piece of paper. Then, whenever he asked the first one, I’d just shove the answers into his hand and let him read. It worked a treat! And - he’s got a sense of humour! - it always ended with him laughing at the last answer: “Yes, you did wet yourself.”

Getting off the ferry

Two more moments made my heart skip a beat… One was as we got off the ferry - trying to push through the scrum of people at the gate onto the street, an immigration officer pulled me aside and insisted on seeing all of our original papers. We didn’t have them - common advice was that photocopies were sufficient for being out and about. He said we’d have to go to his office and wait. Oh no… I pleaded with him about needing to get Tom to a doctor, and thankfully he relented.

The next moment was when we were traipsing round lots of clinics trying to persuade someone to help us. Clinic after clinic said they couldn't do anything for Tom, or that they didn't treat road traffic accidents. One doctor said we’d need to go to Dakar (a flight away) in neighbouring Senegal to have a scan. Argh!  However, praise God, much to everyone’s surprise, somehow we ended up finding a CT scanner in the Gambia! It was in a shiny new room of a brand new hospital (donated by Taiwan) that hadn’t even opened yet. Thank you, Lord! Someone was found who apparently knew how to operate it (I wasn’t wholly convinced) and Tom was put through. I’m told that it’s quite easy to spot internal bleeding - the primary thing to look out for - and there were no signs of it.

Tom was prescribed a diet of going about carefully and not playing football (headers…). He occasionally complied. And he turned out alright… He even led another Gap Team back to the Gambia 5 years later! And - oh, the cheek… - he even took them back to Jinnack!