Crikey, I touched a crocodile

“Have you met Charlie?” came the call from one of the “tour guides” in the village of Bakau, just down the street from our hotel. We were being chased down by one of a hundred tout we’ve been avoiding.

“I am an official tour guide, but I was just on my way from the mosque so I don’t have my official card.”

Likely story.

On the other hand, we’re trying to find the crocodile pool where “Charlie” lives, but we’re slightly lost in a maze of corrugated tin cans that the locals call home, so before he starts his schpiel, I ask: “Will you take 25 dalasi to show us Charlie?” He takes the bait.

For roughly a dollar, we’ve bought ourselves respite from the other touts, a guide to lead us to the Kachikally Crocodile Pool, and he’s even offered to explain the story behind the sacred spot, which is home to 100 crocodiles, that has been an important fixture in the local Bojang community for more than 100 years.

Some believe the spot has magical healing powers. Infertile women from all over the country, and beyond, will bathe in water from the pool by a specially trained woman from the Bojang clan, with the hope of conceiving a child. Many boys and girls have been circumcized here between the enormous roots of a banyan tree on site.

But most outsiders, like us, come to pet the crocodiles. When we approach, there are five sleeping on the edge of the green, algae-covered pool.

“They look dead,” I said. “Or tranquilized.”

But upon closer inspection, their eyes are open. Oh my god. I am standing next to a crocodile. This is crazy.

The employee reassures us that we can touch the crocodile. “It’s okay. It won’t hurt you. We feed them very well.”

So I approach gingerly from behind, as far away from the sharp teeth as possible, while plotting an escape route should I need it. I reach out and touch its hard scaly back, then move my hand towards its belly, where the tissue is softer — with the texture and feel of a slightly deflated soccer ball.

Wow. This is stupid.

Nearby, another crocodile opened its mouth into a wide yawn and froze that way. “He is doing that to cool down.”

As we walked around the pool, we hardly noticed there were several more crocodiles on shore because they blended in with the dirt. Standing on the edge of the pool, we also started to pick out the creatures lurking in the murky green water. Sneaky buggers. I could make out just the spine of one that looked like a tree branch, and the eyes of another that stared at us intently.

Wow. Never in a million years would I imagine that I would be voluntarily placing myself in the path of a crocodile. I have to admit that this was one of the most memorable experiences I have had in The Gambia — except maybe for the relentless touts that follow us everywhere.