Bumsters

The beaches are warm sand, seashells galore, turquoise blue water and Bumsters. This is the name given to the young men who follow you everywhere with offers of walking with you, taking you on tours, helping you buy stuff at a good price, and offering the “real Gambian experience”. Their attention is NOT flattering, a bit scary and the first few days, we stayed away from walking into town oron the beach except in big groups. These young men, the bumsters, try to eke out a living by offering anything from tour guide to sex. The sex trade in the Gambia is flourishing, with a bit of a difference—you do see the usual gorgeous, young black woman smartly dressed in clingy clothes and high heels at breakfast or dinner with an older, portly, balding, white man, but they are the minority. Mostly it’s middle age British women who come here on holiday to seek the companionship of some very studly, young, African men. We see them in the hotel bars, by the pool or in the public areas of the hotel snuggled up to each other and holding hands. The men are paid for these services and after a week or so, the women resume their lives in England, but sometimes with a promise of marriage or a visa to England. Often the exploitation seems to be mutual because these men would love to go to England. Anita's seatmate told us that these men will occasionally marry these middle aged Brits and go to England where the men promptly dump the woman once they get the equilivant of the "green card". 

We were asked repeatedly when we first arrived if we wanted companionship. We were clueless as to what was going on but luckily we're not delusional enough to think that some gorgeous 25 year old stud is gaga over us!! These men are extremely annoying since they follow you everywhere and there are lots of them.  The young women got hassled because they were young and cute, and we got hassled because most of their business comes from women “of a certain age”! Anita and I were their target demogrpahic.

I was waiting to write about the” bumsters” because it was so annoying when we first arrived, and I figured that I’d have some really good stories by now, but it stopped. We now wear our scrubs as we walk on the beach, shop at the market or go to dinner. People say, “thank you Mercy Ships”. “You are very good” . “Thank you for helping us”, etc. The actual Mercy Ship was in the Gambia in 2003 for 9 months . When the ship is in port, there are 6 operating rooms going everyday with all kinds of surgeries, not just cleft lips and palates.  Everyone we've met is familiar with Mercy Ships and ask us if it's in port.  People with all kinds of health problems walk into our ward daily thinking the ship is in.  We have no choice but to turn them away after twelling them that "only cleft lip and palates"and tell them that the ship isn't here.  (Mercy Ships needs not only permission from the country, but an agreement to provide security, water, sewer, and garbage while the ship is in port--and it's a big ship so also the ports have to be able to accomodate it. This is no small thing!) 

This is not really Anita with her bumster, but Zigzag, a really nice guy who owns a bistro/bar on the beach. They aren’t hassling us anymore, but everyone has something for sale!!