In the small medical center in Janjanbureh, Kenneth sits with his foot up on an old, broken desk. The nurse has her infant in a sling on her back while she cleans the wound on Kenneth's leg with hand sanitizer. It's not exactly clean here. Nor are the remedies for even a simple wound cleaning the most optimal. You have to make do with what you have, so copious amounts of hand sanitizer are poured into the open wound.

After the dressing, we go into her office. The baby has become hungry, and although Kenneth tries to entertain while the consultation is going on, the crying is now too much. The nurse takes out one of her breasts and starts breastfeeding while she prescribes antibiotics. She seems a little tired. Maybe because she is working alone in the medical clinic while looking after her child. Maybe because the hospital is a little run down, to say the least. Who knows. In any case, we discover the next day that the antibiotics are actually a deworming medication, and the cleaning with hand sanitizer has made the wound even bigger.

We are visiting Kebba. He is the principal of a school, and when we met him on the street outside the medical clinic, he immediately invited us to come and visit the school.

Like all other schools in Gambia, it was built with emergency funds. Kebba, together with a Czech guy, has started a project where used bicycles from the Czech Republic are shipped to Gambia and given to the students who have been in school the longest. It can mean the difference between getting to school or not, if you can cycle instead of walking 5-7km each way.

The project is really nice, and of course we immediately want to help if we can. We discuss the project at length with Kebba, and he believes that there is a deeper reason why we have met. He tells us that the biggest challenge is that most parents cannot afford to pay the 10kr a month that the school charges in maintenance fees. He wants us to do something together, so that it should be a new project. But we feel best respecting what is already underway, and would like to explore the possibility of working together with the Czech guy on the bicycles. Kebba instead starts telling us about some solar panels that he wants to move so that they can power the school's computer room. But they are missing batteries. He indicates quite openly that perhaps we could donate the batteries?

We spent the rest of the day with the teachers. We ate with them and talked to most of them. We slept on the school grounds, and the next morning we drank tea together again before saying goodbye. Through the many conversations we find out that a teacher earns 300kr a month. They live at the school during the week and go home to their families at the weekend. We sense that it is difficult to make a living from the job, and no one seems particularly satisfied.

Kebba promised to keep in touch, and so did we. For Kebba, that means calling a few times a day. We are trying a more down-to-earth version, where we write occasionally. The talk about the aid project has died down. Both from Kebba's side, but also from ours. Because when we leave Kebba, we have only been in Gambia for a few days. Until then, we only had a quick, superficial glimpse of a people that we find nice and welcoming. Over the next few days, our gaze becomes more nuanced, and the country begins to take shape in our thoughts and minds, and that is why we are now more reserved about the idea of helping the school and Kebba.

“Toubab!” another child calls out to us. Another smile and another wave. Toubab means “White man”. We get a lot of attention. We can’t hide behind rolled-up windows and closed doors. Wherever we go, we are visible and obvious. Not just because of the bicycles, but also because our pale skin makes us stand out like neon lights in the moonlight. It also means that we quickly get a sense of the culture and how the locals view us. In Gambia, we began to feel like a money tree that needs to be shaken. We feel that if you can get the white man to give you some money, it’s much easier than doing something for them yourself. This is completely square, and of course not very nuanced, but nevertheless the feeling we have. On the other hand, you could say that people’s shouts to us are usually just as unvarnished: “Toubab! Give me money!” Or: “Toubab! I want your bicycle!”. There are many different variations on the same theme, but one little boy hit the nail on the head when he shouted to us: “Toubab is money!” Although it may have been a slander, it describes very well the opportunism we experience.

On the other hand, there is also a feeling that perhaps it all doesn’t go that deep. Perhaps it is just as much something cultural, something historical, a way of living together, a survival strategy. Mafugi, who was a hospitable Gambian we stayed with in Mauritania, said: “I like working in Mauritania better because here I can decide for myself what I spend my money on. If I work and earn money in Gambia, then family and friends will come and get money”. We haven’t managed to delve deeper into this culture of sharing, but it is worth keeping in mind when we hear little boys shouting for the 10th time: “Toubab! Give me football”.

Sharing goes both ways. If we pass a group of men having lunch, they always invite us: “Come and eat!”. The times we have eaten together, they always encourage us to eat more, more, more. One day when we had received a lot of shouts and were getting a little tired in the head, we stopped in the shade under a tree. A little girl who was waiting for the bus with her mother came over and gave us each half an orange. Then you are instantly reset with a smile on your face, and it becomes difficult to justify to yourself why we don’t just share all our money with everyone. Like when another little boy shouted: “Toubab! I miss you”.

Gambia is the smallest country on the African mainland. About 1/4 the size of Denmark. About 2 million people live here, so it is one of the most densely populated countries in Africa, in stark contrast to Mauritania, which is one of the most sparsely populated countries in Africa.

About half of the population lives in poverty, on less than 15kr a day. On the other hand, many have subsidiary agriculture. That's why we didn't see any hunger, not even in the smallest villages. Even though a monthly salary is only enough for a little more than a large sack of rice, many manage to grow enough themselves to make ends meet. Of course, this only applies to the countryside, so the greatest and fastest growing poverty is actually in the suburbs of the larger cities.

But how can it be that a country that has abundant natural resources to feed its entire population is so poor? The short, clear answer is: Corruption. The long, complicated answer is much more bleak, for us from rich Europe.

Since its independence from British colonial rule in 1965, Gambia has had 3 presidents, all of whom have been/are corrupt to the core. But as we all know, if you want the real truth, you have to ask the hairdresser. So while Kenneth was sitting in the barber's chair, the country's political quirks were whispered in his ear. The king's motto that stands out most clearly is: "The President is not elected, he is selected". Which means that you must not believe that the president is elected by the people in free elections. No - The president is selected by Europe, in this case England - the former colonial power, and is run into office in an election that cannot be lost. Once you understand that, you understand why Africa's situation is so desperate, and why the corrupt presidents are in office for life in many places, while they keep the population in an iron grip of poverty and lack of development. Because the reality is that the president of Gambia has filled his pockets and his stomach for many years, with Europe's good will, while the population has not developed. Corruption means that if someone does a good business, you can be sure that the government will come and demand fees, taxes, fines to line its own pockets, without thinking about the development of the country. That is why profitable companies move to Senegal, or close their activities in powerlessness and frustration. This means that all initiative is taken from people to create a better life. That you foster an opportunism where what you can put in your mouth now is better than a long-term effort, because you never know when your savings will be taken from you.

Europe and the USA have provided aid to Gambia for many years. Both organisations and private donors have built and run schools and hospitals. It is beautiful and altruistic. And considering the Nordic success in educating the population, it is the right approach. The problem arises when you only help with one hand, while destroying the country with the other. Because the West still buys goods and natural resources far too cheaply from Gambia, while we sell our processed goods back on a far too large scale. Gambia imports for approximately 12 times as much as they export for. That is a completely hopeless calculation for a poor country. So while the West provides emergency aid with one hand, we contribute to draining the country of its economy with the other. Especially when we let the corrupt government take over before considering the population.

We asked Kebba what he thinks about China's recent presence in Gambia: "After 50 years with the West, it's good to try something new. But we know that the deals with China are also bad and are harming our country. The problem is still that our leaders are lining their pockets while the people suffer."

In eastern Gambia we saw a “Friendship Bridge” built by China. In return, China has been granted large fishing rights off the coast of Gambia.

On the banks of the Gambia River lies Kaur, a small village. Here we spoke to one of the local fishermen. He was the second generation fisherman in his family. But he will probably be the last, because the fish have disappeared from the river. Previously, he could be out for a couple of hours to get the day's catch. Now he can't even catch enough after a whole day on the water. This is the result for the local people, after the government has lined its own pockets and given the fishing rights along the coast to China, which is massively overfishing to the detriment of the fish population.

All in all, it paints a picture of a population locked in poverty with no opportunity to create a better future for themselves and the country. As a result, many young Gambians of both sexes marry foreigners, either in the hope of leaving the country, or in the hope of being supported for the rest of their lives.

Everyone we spoke to says there is no hope for Gambia. No matter how we try to ask about the possibilities for Gambia to rise up, feed itself, develop, become independent, the answer is the same: There is no hope!

In that context, we better understand why people take the chance and ask the white man if he will give them some money, instead of making a long-term effort themselves to create their own future.

Although it is a sad and painful realization, it leads us to a place where we feel that it does not make sense to help Kebba. It is tragic to think that we will not help people who need it. But our realization is that Kebba does not need a battery for his solar cells, or more bicycles. He needs a revolution and a leader who believes that the country must be built with the strength of the people. That it must be built from below. That there must be an end to corruption and being in the pocket of Europe. Until that happens, Gambia is a black hole that you can pour as much money into without it changing anything.

Will it be difficult? Yes – extremely difficult. And unfortunately, the West is most satisfied with the status quo, because that's how we make the most money from Africa, and that's how there's the least trouble and problems. But other countries in Africa are far stronger than Gambia. In other places, the young population is far more dissatisfied and far more ready for action. And THAT is interesting to follow...

Despite Gambia's poor prospects, it's impossible not to love the Gambians. They possess a patience and a tolerance that few others possess. Here, smiles, laughter and kindness are a short cut.

While Kenneth's wounds needed rest and care to heal, we spent time with Finn, Hanne and Anita at Dana Lodge, conveniently located near the capital's better hospitals. We had hours of deep and truly interesting conversations about life and culture in Gambia.

Hanne and Finn have spent many years in the country building up various businesses. Although they also told discouraging stories and lack of faith in the future of Gambia, we felt that they were driven by something else – by love for Gambia and the Gambians. One evening we went out dancing with them. The streets were full of life and smiles. The bars were full of people celebrating life and taking a big bite out of it. Young and old, fat and thin, black and white. Everyone was united in the lust for life and community.

These are the memories that fill our hearts the most.