The Gambia, April 2012. " A new Husband every night"

I opened my eyes and looked up into my mozzie net.  Where am I?  What’s that noise?   When can I have a cup of tea?  These were the first three majorly important things to pop into my mind.

I soon discovered that I was in Gambia on a University trip and the noises were coming from of a vast array of birds and green vervet monkeys frolicking outside my window and, as for the brew, my cup of tea was to be necked in approximately one hour.

A cheeky Green Vervet Monkey

I learnt a lot of things from my time in The Gambia.  I shall now educate you on the two most important things:

Never; I repeat, never eat the papayas there.  They smell like, and I do offer my sincere apologies that I cannot put this much more politely, actual faeces and taste like vomit.  Nice.

Teale, Me, Carly and Holly, ready for breakfast

Now for something important for all the women to remember; do not go anywhere without a husband.  Don’t worry if you don’t have one; neither did I but I made damn sure I got one!

Being students, we wanted to try out the local nightlife.  Roy Armstrong, not my Dad but our module leader, took us out to experience the local bars.  They were somewhat of an experience to say the least, with money and sex hungry Gambian men lurking around every corner it was hard to relax or dance without feeling preyed upon.

‘GTS’ was a favourite place to dine for us all and where many exotic cocktails, beers, pizzas, traditional rice dishes and chips were consumed every night.  Plus, there was always some good entertainment on offer; dancers, singers, drummers and even fire-eaters performing for us.

The group having fun in GTS

There were other places to go other than GTS yet they didn’t have the same feel.  One night, Roy took us to experience a nightclub named “Wow” which was appropriately named for the wrong reasons as my first thoughts were “Wow, could you get many more sexual predators in one room?”  I was right to be cautious as the second time I reluctantly set foot in the place, I was shrouded in sweaty men and my ‘phone was stolen straight from my handbag.  Brilliant.

We stuck to GTS and it was all good fun until the money grabbers slithered out from their hiding places to choose their next victim.  The thing is, you simply cannot reason with most Gambian men; you can say “no”, you can be polite and say “no, thank you”, you can even try and be abrupt by telling them to go away, but they will just not give up.  They must think that white woman are walking goldmines, just desperate to dish out wads of cash to whoever crosses their path.  If only they could see my bank balance!

Walking down the main part of town on night on my way to get some well-deserved food with my friends Rob, Trish and Arnold, a stray dog who started following us, we came across a Gambian stranger who tried his luck with me.

This was the first time I tried out the “He’s my husband” line and, as doing so, I instantly grabbed Rob and declared my love for him; “and we’re on our honey moon” I added for extra effect.

Our new unwelcomed acquaintance profusely apologised to Rob and soon got over me breaking his heart as he instantly turned to Trish pulling out more of his best chat up lines.

“She’s my daughter!!” I declared, in a rather unconvincing way whilst blatantly laughing.  It’s worth a try but there’s no way he’s going to believe that, I thought to myself.  Shockingly, my master plan worked.  Mr Lover-lover bought it and scampered off into the night to continue his love quest.

Surely “Find me a rich wife” would be an ideal reality TV show in the Gambia.  I think I’m onto something there.  When it becomes a popular show format, remember that you heard it here first!

I was pleased the “He’s my husband” line worked as I used it to my full advantage and used it at every given opportunity. Surprisingly, each time they fell for it hook, line and sinker!

 
By the end of the two weeks everyone was married to everyone at some point, it became quite a novelty and yet I wouldn’t like it to be the case on every night out, it would get exhausting after a while!  You forget how nice it is to have a quiet drink without being pestered.

I secretly think some of the boys loved it though.  I do recall my friend Paul having about five wives in one night.  Now, come on, that’s just greedy!

Paul with his harem and Alex trying to get a look in!