A retrospective: Banjul

In Banjul: there are open sewers criss-crossed by overhead telegraph poles. there are rusty tin-roofed buildings with moats of standing water. industrial rubbish lines the streets. naturally, there is dust. At the tranquil intersection of Daniel Goddard Street and Independence Avenue, a man pisses against a wall. In any other global city this would be... Continue Reading →

A retrospective: Back from Barra to Banjul

I join the scrum at the ferry ticket kiosk. A kind man with a deeply scarred face senses my claustrophobia, takes my money, buys my ticket, and hands me change. Large guns are carried with casual deference around the port - a land rover has a machine gun mounted on its roof. Another is slung... Continue Reading →

A retrospective: The house of laughter

In the house of happiness - this Maison du Bonheur - a child tries to learn the Qu'ran, confusing Allah Al Akhbar with Ali Baba, Smiling proudly as his mum and dad laugh from the depths of their stomachs. In this happy place, the war against the harmattan that daily brings its carpet of dust... Continue Reading →

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