So what's hardcore, really? Am I hardcore? Naah

"You can't go down there, it's too dangerous!"

Under some circumstances, getting this sort of advice from a local person might have made me think twice (or three times). I was in Dakar some weeks ago, laying out my plans for the few weeks ahead, which were to head off to the Gambia, and then down into the region of Senegal known as the Casamance, which sits between Gambia and Guinea-Bissau. The Casamance has been in the grips of a separatist struggle since the 70s, which grew out of a long historical resistance to the French colonial divide-and-rule strategy. You see, when the French arrived in the Casamance, they found a local tribal structure that had no heirarchical order for them to exploit. They had to import other tribes from elsewhere to rule the place, who were hated by the locals just as much as the French. From then on, there has been a separatist movement in the region, and the armed struggle has killed several thousand people over the past 30 years. About a week before I got to Senegal, 3 people were killed in a roadside ambush.

So, to go or not to go? The Casamance is known as the most beautiful and welcoming part of Senegal, with tons of community-based tourism that, in quiet times, attracted people to tiny villages all over the region. Peace treaties have been signed, but instability in Guinea-Bissau (which had in the past supported the rebels) had also flared up recently. The matter was complicated by the difficulty of getting reliable information about the Casamance while in the North of Senegal. Most Senegalese people, and plenty of the expats who live around Dakar, don't have a clue what's going on there, and think it far more dangerous than it actually is. "Asking around" is actually pretty tricky, but on a combination of advice from travellers, message boards, and (I admit) a bit of gut instinct, I chose to go. I'm glad I did.

The fears about security in the Casamance are a joke. Problems do exist, specifically on one road through one area, and almost entirely at night. You wouldn't catch me passing anywhere in the Casamance at night in a bush taxi anyway, so that one wasn't much of a worry. I passed that road in the daytime (which few foreigners do), and it was fine - although there were tanks lurking in the villages, and plenty of combat-clad soldiers patrolling. Realistically, though, the danger of a daytime ambush is almost infinitesimally small, and can't compare to the chances of much more prosaic things like car crashes.

Once I was through to the gloriously pleasant city of Ziguinchor, I actually found more foreign tourists than anywhere else in Senegal - primarily Spaniards, for whatever reason. The region really is incredibly beautiful, especially in the rains, with lush forests and rivers and huge trees full of fruit bats sweeping into the air at sunset. I spent 10 days or so in the region, staying largely at Campements Villageois, community-run tourism projects that are usually built in traditional forms to help preserve the architectural skills involved in constructing what are often huge, multi-story mud-and-thatch buildings. They're great places to stay, integrated into small villages with lots of opportunities to meet locals. I wandered the forests around Affiniam, drinking palm wine (which tastes, when freshly tapped, pretty odd - think fizzy, alcoholic, slightly sweet, with a hint of lettuce and big mac sauce. I shit you not). I rented a mountainbike in Ossuye and toured the red-dirt roads through the little villages, putting 30 kms of tiredness under my legs in a morning. I kicked back for a few days on the Isle de Carabane, where my little hotel sat right on the water at the mouth of the Casamance river, perfect for beer-drinking, eating tons of barracuda steak, and exploring the crumbling old remnants of the first French trading station in the region.

I capped it off with a couple days at the glorious beaches on the Atlantic at Cap Skiring, where green jungle hits white sand. The rains held off for a bit, and I got myself a good sun-scorching. Not being a huge fan of just-beach towns, though, I rolled out fairly fast. After a stop to run errands in Ziguinchor, I took a Murphy's law fulfilling chaotic bush taxi ride (4 vehicles, 6 breakdowns, and 16 hours to get 35o kms!) to the junction town of Tambacounda, then caught an early morning bush taxi to Kedougou, which took me through the best national park in Senegal. I saw some boars and baboons and other beasties from the taxi window without paying a cent!

Getting out of Senegal proved a bit of a challenge. From Kedougou to Guinea, the roads are might rough as they climb up the 1500 metre plateau of the Futa Djalon. In the rainy season, there ain't much traffic, and I waited 2 full days before we finally found the 17 people to cram inside the land cruiser (another 5 on top!) for the 26-hour, 200 kilometre drive. It was truly epic - like spending 2 days in an SUV commercial.

So, in the end, the Casamance experience was nothing but wonderfulness. It does, though, highlight an element of travelling here that people at home ask about pretty often. So how do I answer the question "Is it safe?"

The short answer is simply "Yes". The chance of the stereotypical African nightmare scenario - crazed soldiers with guns, bombs, terrible tropical diseases - is so miniscule as to be not worth worrying about anywhere in this region. Cranky soldiers you do have, but at worst they might want money, not your head. I'm likely to be passing through the rebel-held North of Cote D'Ivoire in a little while, and even there I have reliable reports that it's fine to pass through as a traveller.

This isn't, of course, true all over the continent - I wouldn't take a trip to Somalia, Darfur, the Eastern region in DRC, parts of the Central African Republic, or some parts of Congo-Brazzaville right now - but those are the only places I'd mark right off the list, and I am no fan of needless self-endangerment. There are those travellers who get a thrill out of passing through dangerous situations, but I don't consider myself one of them. I like going to places that few people go, which quite often means facing the perception of danger, but I can happily do without the reality.

Even the more prosaic traveller worries about the region are generally overstated. You're more likely to be pickpocketed in Rome than in Conakry or Banjul, and you're more likely to be mugged in K-W than in almost any West African town. There are exceptions of course - downtown Dakar can be a sketchy place at night, and in some other places it is best to take a taxi after dark, but by and large it is actually amazing how safe this region is - considering that I regularly walk around with enough money to make several years income for local people, as I'm sure they know. With even a modicum of street sense, West Africa is fine and dandy - I say quite honestly that I have felt far more threatened on KW streets a couple times than I ever have on the road. The trick is to ask widely, ask often, and trust your gut. If something feels sketchy, you bolt - but that rarely happens.

So why the perception of danger? Because people are terrible estimators of risk. We greatly overstate dramatic scary things like rebels and plane crashes, and greatly underestimate the more prosaic risks - and West Africa, like anywhere, doesn't lack those. The only real risk I encounter over here? The roads.

Bush taxi drivers are often maniacs who pass on blind corners, drive way too fast in the driving rain, and generally sow mayhem on the rough roads region-wide. I have on occaision felt like I'm taking my life in my hands, especially since due to my height I usually chase after the front seat next to the driver (cheerfully known as the "death seat" in many countries due to the frequency of head-on collisions). I've had a couple scares, and even a couple scrapes - on the way into Conakry we lost a rearview mirror to a passing car, and the other week in Senegal we slid sidelong into another. No-one was hurt in either, but it certainly does get discomfiting, especially when you're stuck with 13 other people in a station wagon where none of the doors can be opened from the inside (this happens often). In West Africa, bush-taxi stories replace poop tales as the basic traveller common-ground.

The perils of bush-taxi travel are, by leaps and bounds, the most dangerous things I will face this trip - and it would be wise not to overstate them. For all the craziness on the roads, it's actually surprisingly infrequent to have serious accidents, and I'm really not too fussed about things that are so out of my control.

So, is any of this "hardcore"? I think not. Although pretty far removed from the day-to-day experiences of home, a bit of familiarity with life on the road bursts every bubble of percieved difficulty that one might carry over from the West. With a smile on your face and a couple looks around, this is no place to worry.

Peace
Josh