Taxi!

As I sat for the first time in the gouged seat of a bush taxi, hoping that its lack of stuffing was not due to the teeth of some burrowing creature, I decided a green taxi and its weed smoking driver seemed like a better deal. I peered ahead through the smeared arc of the windscreen and winced at the uneven terrain we would soon be traveling, the bare metal spring digging into my bottom suddenly mouthing new threats. That, coupled with the fact that the heat was sitting on top of us like a stubborn toddler, told me this would not be a comfortable ride.

Our guide was still haggling with the driver for a reasonable price, so we had nothing to do apart from chatter in nervous tones and gaze out of the smeared windows. We all watched a car drive passed, rising and falling across the sandy roads like a ship on a rolling tide. We all watched as one of its front wheels fell off and a bystander ran to catch it. We all watched as the driver remained motionless in his seat and the catcher rolled the tire back to the car. We all watched as the catcher removed what can only be described as a large rubber band from his pocket and secured the wheel back in its proper place with a few twists. We all watched as the driver continued on his way without acknowledging his helper.

Finally, when our bush taxi was full of passengers inside, outside and on the roof, we set off. It became very clear that the rules of the road were patchy at best. It seemed that vehicles could swerve and glide across the entire width, taking the easiest route possible over the swallowing dunes. When another vehicle approached, they passed on the right, but that was debatable. I wondered if drivers were required to take tests in The Gambia.

Along the way, we found ourselves passing money forward from locals to the driver’s assistant. Their debts paid, they would exit the vehicle, often when still in motion. When it was our turn to disembark, we did so with sickened stomachs and orange cheeks from the breeze that had stung them with sand from the open windows.  

Later, in the smooth motion of English cars on English tarmac, we looked back on the bush taxis with affection.