The Archipelago

Bijagos Archipelago, Guinea-Bissau – After being on Carache Island, I think I can reasonably appropriate the title “Baby Time Traveler,” for to visit this island is to step back about a thousand years. I saw nothing relating to any modern convenience – no phones, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe, it’s primitive as can be. In this world where one can always count on Coca-Cola to be the bridge between cultures and worlds, not even so much as a red “Enjoy!” sign was to be found (although my assistant did meet a girl named Fanta). Instead, what I found was a chalk board nailed to a tree (school), a mat of reeds in a dark mud hut (baby delivery room), and pigs roaming the paths (rush hour). We visited that particular island because my assistant, through his side job, plans to donate funds to build a much-needed health clinic.











At every turn we got the feeling we were in some African version of Colonial Williamsburg, where people don costumes and put on little shows as a living history lesson, except I’m pretty sure that for them it was just another day at the office. Women in grass skirts pounded seeds with an oversized mortar and pestle to make palm oil. Kids made crude devices out of palm fronds to climb tree trunks so they could throw down mangoes. Men re-roofed a house with thatch gathered and dried from the surrounding woods. And cows owned the pristine white sand beaches that tourists would have ruled had this island been anywhere other than Guinea-Bissau.

Bubaque Island was quite a bit more developed so I checked my entourage into a local hotel. When I say developed, I don't mean exactly that the room had air conditioning, constant electricity or a door on the bathroom, but my assistant was at least able to stave off death by dehydration with some cold beer. As you can see from the photo below, even the termites have more spacious accomodations than travelers.

These buga-bugas are everywhere in Guinea-Bissau.

The island is large and the town small, so I chartered a boat to the far end where I basked on beautiful, expansive Bruce Beach. It was so remote that some of the more daring members of the crew decided to bathe au natural. Normally, decency and rolls of fat would prevent me from bearing my bottom and giving the paparazzi a chance at their next Enquirer cover, but I wanted to get rid of my tan lines. My assistants may think public nudity is cute now, but let's see how they feel about it when I am in high school.

In Guinea-Bissau you make due with what you have.

It is true that the Bissau-Guineans don't have much, but they do have class. They never beg or try to cheat the visiting glitterati and they don't hustle relentlessly like the more tourist-savvy Senegalese and Gambians. Perhaps most importantly, they know how to honor internationally recognized cuteness. For never letting me be chauffered down a dirt path without a wave, a smile or an enthusiastic shout out to the white boy, they will always have my heart.

Kids put on an impromptu dance performance in honor of my august arrival on Bubaque.

Until next time, peace to all.
Omi, Baby Adventure Traveler