Goree

This was a good opportunity to visit the Island of Goree, lying just off the coast at Dakar.   Small ferries regularly plied between Dakar and Goree until the small hours.  This ancient and historical island had high rocky cliffs at one end and small picturesque sandy coves at the other.  In its relatively recent history the French had developed the island leaving eighteenth century style buildings and quaint cobbled streets.  There were still the remains of older merchant’s houses with the storage rooms for rum and brandy and slaves.  The tourist authority had developed these houses as museums and advertised them as “Slave Houses” and this brought in many tourists and much needed income for the locals.  The island though was still well preserved and pleasant to stroll around.   

We were delighted to find that the ferry fare for ECOWAS residents was half of that for tourists and that our Gambian aliens cards and buying the tickets in Wolof was sufficient to clinch the deal.  On high days and holidays Goree is a popular destination for residents and tourists alike. The island is crammed with day visitors visiting the fort museum, the ‘slave houses’ and walking up to the fortifications on the cliffs past the ubiquitous craft stalls.  Picnicking Dakar families spread themselves out under the shady trees in the square behind the harbour and happy children were entertained by their fathers whilst the women sat and chatted.  We were enchanted to be asked by one family group to join them. Such generosity and friendliness to strangers never fails to give you a warm glow of acceptance in another country.  Nor was this invitation isolated.  Later in the day whilst we strolled along the water front a small group of young men brewing green tea on a small charcoal burner asked if we would like to join them.  We accepted and enjoyed a casual conversation centred on Senegal and Gambia and our mutual views.  We were so taken by Goree that we spent the night in Keur Beer Auberge a small family owned hotel, up a narrow cobbled street, near the harbour.  Our room had provincial French style wooden shutters, a large four poster bed and an ample walk in shower.  We dined in the hotel in the quiet evening when the day trippers had left and we had the island and the locals to ourselves. It was a splendid place and a wonderful day.

Next day we presented ourselves at the Mali Embassy, with Omar waiting patiently outside.  Being a much bigger country, Mali is five times the area of UK, we wondered if the bureaucratic procedures would be stiffer, but no, the staff here were great. Being French speaking Margaret sorted out the details.  The lady explained that a visa application would take two days to complete and as the next day was Saturday it would be at least Tuesday until they were available.  When Margaret asked if this procedure could be speeded up the embassy lady asked what we did.  Margaret explained in French that I was employed in the hospital in Banjul and she worked with the blind.  

‘So, she said you are not tourists.  I think that will make a difference. Please come back this afternoon at three’

On our return the embassy lady presented us with six month, multiple entry business visas and wished us well in our medical mission to cure the blind of Mali.  Ah, well some misunderstandings work in your favour.    During the day we had strolled around Dakar, visiting the new covered fruit market and pausing for coffee in an excellent patisserie.  The ‘Rough Guide’ had warned about the potential for pickpockets. They operated in groups of three.  One in front distracts you by pretending to sell you a t-shirt or trinket, his accomplice then tries to dust down your trousers in an apparent act of friendship.  When you bend over to brush his hands away the third member of the gang effortlessly lifts the wallet from your back pocket.  Thus warned, as soon as this combination of youths formed around us we were alerted.  As the scam unfolded they were shocked when we responded by warning them off and swearing at them in Wolof!  No harm done, and the incident did nothing to spoil our enjoyment of Dakar and Goree and the really nice people who lived and worked there.

This article is part of a series describing our tour of West Africa
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