Kasumai everyone!

It has been an eventful week. I think I can now say TIA :)

I left the Niokobokk Gest House in Dakar on Saturday, 26. October 2019. On the way out of the city I washed King Kong, changed the oil and bought a hard drive for all the photos that have been accumulating (18 GB so far). I made it out of the city fine and was glad to find a quiet wild campsite outside of Kaolack.

The next day in the morning I had trouble starting the bike. It had been a (relatively) cold night, so I didn’t think much of it. I managed to get King Kong purring nicely and set off toward the Gambian border. I got there around noon, exited Senegal smoothly and then spent an hour trying to convince the Gambian border officers that as a Canadian I didn’t need a Visa to enter the country. They agreed but said I needed a Senegalese exit stamp in my Canadian passport (which was in my Swiss passport). No lawyer talk or appeal to Common Wealth fraternity would sway them and I ended up paying EUR 55 for a Visa in my Swiss passport. This still seemed better than going around Gambia on the way South. I continued along and thought I’d probably exit the country the same day. The country basically consists of two sides of a river with no bridge, all in all about 50 km across.

Wrong I was. King Kong turned off mid ride after about 10 km into Gambia and I rolled up right in front of little moto fixing shop in Barra on the North side of the Gambia river. The boys said my fly wheel generator was broken and needed replacing. After some back and forth, they managed to secure a knock off part from across the river by the next morning. I spent the night in a very local hotel and enjoyed the Gambia vibes. The people are very friendly. No begging, but many people interested in chatting and helping. King Kong started up again and I caught the ferry across to Banjul. All good.

About 10 km away from the Southern border King Kong started spitting as though the motor wasn’t delivering enough force to the chain. I stopped, loosened the chain, changed the spark plug and continued.

I made it to the border ok and launched into a discussion with the officers about not having stamped my Carnet (because I didn’t need too according to my research on Gambian laws) when entering the country. First I thought they were giving me a hard time to get a bribe and so I got into fight mode. After a while I sensed that they just wanted to be taken seriously and after submitting, nodding and apologising they stamped me out. I was ready to get out of there - and then King Kong wouldn’t start. This was slightly embarrassing after the big discussion we had just had and in my mind possibly problematic - because I was now legally not in the Gambia anymore.

Apparently a broken motorbike trumps all this. I was ushered to my would be new friend and roadside mechanic Haruna 50 metres away from the border office. My fly wheel generator was blown again. The border patrol let me put up my tent in their courtyard and I spent a pleasant evening with the officers I had argued with in the afternoon. They let me use their showers (running!) and toilet (flushing!) and were very friendly. I got to experience first hand how everyone behaves differently under different circumstances. The next day Haruna and I rode into town (me still being stamped out, no biggie) to find another fly wheel generator.

We finally found one and I overpaid because the guy knew his bargaining position (apparently word had gotten out, that fly wheel generators for old Honda XLs were in demand). Back at the border Haruna fixed up King Kong and diagnosed that the first mechanics hadn’t connected a cable which was supposed to regulate the current. I crossed the border into Southern Senegal honorary accompanied by Haruna after some last fish and rice - a great crew, thank you boys.

I rode through the beautiful Casamance countryside in the late afternoon sunshine singing “break down" by Jack Johnson and feeling that mix of freedom and melancholy of leaving a friendly place. And then King Kong stopped again after about 30 km. I honestly had to laugh - the situation seemed so scripted. A family on the roadside phoned the mechanic (my would be new friend Ahmadou) in the next village and he sent his boy (my would be new friend Amagi) to push me (by scooter - works surprisingly well) to the next town of Badiama. Yes, the fly wheel generator was fried again. Ahmadou had an old working one lying around and noted that when the battery was connected, the motor started to stutter. The analysis seemed rough but good enough for me: disconnect the battery (which hadn’t been working since Morocco anyways) and I should a least be rolling again. It was getting dark and Korka - a friendly bystander - invited me to stay at his family’s house.

The next day Korka and I rode to the next bigger town of Bignona to get cash to pay Ahmadou for the repair. Yes, you guessed it: King Kong stopped again. Yet another roadside mechanic diagnosed a broken rectifier (and of course fly wheel generator). He said these parts would have to be sought after in Gambia. Korka offered to go to Gambia and look for the parts for me because I needed a Visa. He had lived there for a while and his uncle used to run a motorcycle parts shop there.

In retrospect, I think this is the moment where I logically should have decided to quit the bush mechanics and backtrack to Dakar to try to find a professional capable of analysing motorcycle electronics. But Dakar is 1000 km away by land from Bignona (or 500 km if I would pay for another Visa to go through the Gambia) and the marginal cost of a new fly wheel generator and rectifier seemed to outweigh the long backtrack to the capital.

Korka - who likes Bollywood dancing, Cristiano Ronaldo and Osama Bin Laden (yeah …) - set out for the Gambia in the afternoon and I spent the rest of the day googling, reading my workshop handbook and texting Götti Paul, Andrin and Steven to try to diagnose the problem. After a while I embraced my situation and actually enjoyed my time hanging out in the most peaceful of Casamance villages. Korka’s family and all the villagers were very friendly. Quickly the whole village learned my name (a pregnant 20 year old said she’d name her son after me - I don’t think she was joking). I was fed, taught Jola and how to do nothing for a while. I have to say - staying in a small African village is probably an experience I couldn’t have bought and I will not forget.

Korka came back the next evening with a new fly wheel generator (the same knock off, from the same guy who had sold me the second one) and a supposedly expert mechanic recommended by his uncle in tow. At this point I had decided that I would probably have to backtrack to Dakar. Korka had me sit down with the mechanic to have a talk. He said he used to work for the Honda dealership in Dakar and that he was an expert regarding electronics. I didn’t trust the guy, but he agreed to a flat and solely success based fee (USD 40). I knew this was too much and also that the guy was phony but I thought the deal was good. We agreed that I would test drive King Kong for 100 km with the mechanic on the back. I was to drop him off and pay him at the Gambian border at the end of the day. As King Kong had been stopping after about 30 km upon changing generators, 100 km seemed like a safe enough margin of error.

The next day, 1. November 2019, all saints day, the mechanic and I took a bus to Bignona, got King Kong from the roadside mechanic’s shop and pushed the bike over to another mechanic’s shop that my mechanic knew (Ton Ton, a good guy). There Ton Ton changed the fly wheel generator and rectifier while my mechanic lit a joint (not that I cared, Ton Ton seemed to know what he was doing much more than my guy did). The test ride went well. On the way we stopped at a couple of my mechanic’s relatives who were celebrating all saints day with copious amounts of cartoned red wine in between masses. This was a cultural experience in itself and it was interesting to see the change from the Islamic North to the catholic South of Senegal. I’m not going to lie - I enjoyed partaking in a cup of cartoned red wine - it had been a while. Everybody was very friendly. After dropping off my mechanic, I spent the evening saying goodbye to my Badiama family slightly sad, but eager to move South the next day.

Yeah - King Kong didn’t start in the morning. Korka couldn’t believe it and felt really bad. I reckon I was right to trust him but I overlooked the fact that he knew less about mechanics and evidently people than I do.

Finally the point had come, when I decided to backtrack to Dakar. By chance, a neighbour walking by mentioned that there was a ferry to Dakar from the bigger town of Ziguinchor on the Casamance river.  This made the journey much shorter and less of a hassle than I had anticipated. I think if I had known about the boat earlier, I wouldn’t have waited for a fourth (!) fly wheel generator from Gambia.

I finally left Badiama after four nights at Korka’s house (thank you!). Two boys pushed me the 60 km by scooter to Ziguinchor. I spent the night in a hotel across from the port and took the boat (there were dolphins:) the next day 3. November 2019 back to Dakar. I arrived the next morning at 6 am, found Bomba who pushed me the 10 km through Dakar to MAD Bikes in the Yoff and am now waiting for the verdict on King Kong. I’m pretty sure Madou the mechanic is able - the shop has a door and a website.

Despite the hassles, sunk costs (I talked to my insurance yesterday, they might actually pay for my costs that have a paper trail :) and time - I feel grateful. I’m healthy and in Africa and I’ve learned about culture, motorbikes and people (maybe including myself :).

Peace and hugs all around

Chris

P.S. Sorry for the picture format - I don't think we're going to solve the web problem^^