However, it wasn’t until we sauntered down the Senegambia Strip that it dawned on me that the offer from several Bumsters to experience ‘The Real Gambia’ might well have had illicit undertones.It wasn’t the only warning sign – the night before we had giggled like adolescents at the sight of two fellow female hotel guests flanking a good looking local guy all but dragging him back to their room, his feet barely touched the ground in cartoon fashion as they marched.
I have not led a sheltered life and my friends would place my behavior closer to sinner than saint.
And of the many pairings I observed last night it is hard to conceive any scenario where the men involved would willingly select the abominations that were their highly unmatched pair.
Prostitution is a profession as old as time and the smallest part of me takes some controversial comfort in the idea that sexual equality has progressed to the point that women now have sufficient power to exchange cash for sex.
Consequently there is very little that tends to shock me, but the extreme levels of male prostitution in this country have done exactly that.
I did little research before coming to The Gambia other than to check it had an under 7-hour flight time from the UK and had sunshine in March.