|
|
|
Developments:
How did they end up here? (An occasional series)
The Kartong highway stops abruptly 3km after the last village in Gambia. Where the tarmac ends, two red earth tracks lead off to right and left. The rightward track passes between desolate salt pans to a fishing beach, where Gambian and Senegalese fishermen weigh and sell their catch. At the end of the leftward path lies the Hallahin river, which doubles as the Senegalese border. The jungly fringe of Senegal's troubled Casamance region lies a hundred metres across the slow-moving stream. Oarsmen in slender pirogues ferry occasional passengers between the two countries carrying bags of rice or bicycles. An utterly peaceful spot, the only sounds are the plop of oars and kingfishers diving into the water.
On this remote shore, Franco, a small, intense, middle-aged Italian, has a tiny restaurant with a terrace overlooking the river. He serves up oven-cooked pizzas to a sparse clientele of expats from the capital and bemused, possibly lost tourists. His English is stilted and my Italian nonexistent, and I don't ask how an Italian pizza chef ended up here, at the end of Gambia, far from the nearest village and many miles from the nearest tourist resort. His business seems to be surviving, however, and three of the tables are occupied when I visit. Perhaps these things are best unasked; the mystery, like the tranquil river, left undisturbed.
|
|
