They call it The Smiling Coast of Africa. And to be fair, The Gambia does smile at you—brightly, warmly, with the kind of hospitality that makes you want to stay a while. But as you leave the coast and venture inland, the smile starts to fade. Not because of the people (who are genuinely wonderful) or the scenery (which is quietly beautiful), but because of the ever-present, always-lurking headache that is police corruption.

It’s a problem that is most obvious the further you travel from the beach resorts. And sadly, it’s those lesser-visited inland regions—brimming with untapped potential—that bear the brunt.

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The Checkpoint Safari

Police corruption in The Gambia isn’t just an occasional inconvenience. It’s a full-blown travel experience. You don’t encounter it—you embark on it. It’s less “road trip” and more “checkpoint safari,” where instead of spotting wildlife, you collect bribes.

On one 87-kilometre drive inland, we were stopped 20 times. That’s one stop every 4.3 km. Each followed the same script: an officer waving us down, a “routine check,” a glance at our documents, and then a vague issue that required the driver to step out. The bribe? Usually 100 dalasi—about £1. But after 20 stops, it’s not the money that hurts. It’s the fatigue. The time lost. The joy slowly leaking out of your day.

And while not every officer is corrupt, when it happens this often, it’s no longer about a few bad apples. It’s about a system quietly expecting them.

Tourism Can’t Thrive Where No One Stops

The Gambia’s economy leans heavily on tourism. But here’s the rub: when your journey inland feels like a gauntlet of harassment, you stop wanting to stop. That day, we didn’t pull over for lunch. We didn’t buy fruit. We didn’t visit a single attraction. We drove straight through, anxious and exhausted.

That means the local fruit seller didn’t get our business. The guesthouse owner didn’t host us. The artisan didn’t make a sale. And this wasn’t a one-off. This was every day.

The irony? These bribes are supposed to squeeze more out of tourists. But in the long term, they cost far more. Because when travellers avoid inland routes, it’s the most overlooked communities—those with the fewest resources—that lose out.

We Talk. We Share. We Warn.

The people of The Gambia are incredible. Warm, welcoming, funny, and proud of their country. The inland landscape is lush, and the culture is rich. But corruption taints everything. Tourists talk. We leave reviews. We write blog posts (hi!). And we tell others: don’t go inland—it’s not worth the hassle.

And that’s heartbreaking because these are the regions that need tourism the most.

It’s Not Just Me

I wondered if I was just unlucky. However, according to Afrobarometer, nearly half of Gambians believe most or all police are corrupt. One in five people who were stopped admitted to paying a bribe. Nearly a quarter of those seeking help from police had to pay. And 41% of Gambians say they’ve been stopped without reason.

This isn’t an unlucky day. It’s a national pattern. And while Gambia isn’t the worst (Nigeria and Sierra Leone report even higher corruption), that’s hardly a comfort.

Interestingly, neighbouring Senegal is doing much better, with only 21% saying their police are corrupt. And having just crossed the border, I can confirm—it shows.

Locals Pay the Higher Price

As a tourist, I get to leave. But Gambians? This is their daily life.

I spoke with drivers who budget for bribes the same way they do for fuel. Market sellers who lose hours and income to checkpoints. Locals who hide their change in the glovebox, just to make it through the day. If they refuse? They’re delayed. Harassed. Fined for imaginary infractions. Their goods confiscated. Their dignity chipped away.

The Gambia’s tourism model is built on the promise of shared economic benefit. But corruption keeps that benefit stuck at the top. It robs locals of opportunity, income, and trust—especially inland, where those gains are needed most.

Tips for Travellers (Who Still Want to Go)

Still thinking of travelling here? Respect. Here’s what I learned:

1. Avoid Senegalese Cars: We were driving one, and that alone justified half the stops. It made us a target.
2. Stay Calm, Smile, and Don’t Escalate: Treat every stop like improv theatre. Passive-aggressive politeness goes far.
3. Let Your Guide Handle It: Don’t engage unless you have to. Locals know how to navigate these situations best.
4. Carry Small Notes (But Keep Them Hidden): It’s awful advice. But it’s practical.
5. Travel Early: Mornings tend to be quieter. Less drama, more momentum.
6. Report… Strategically: Don’t try to lodge a complaint mid-bribe. Wait till you’re safe, connected, and off the road.
7. Use Reputable Guides: Worth every penny. They know the roads—and the roadblocks.

Would I Go Back?

Yes—to the coast. No—to inland destinations. And that breaks my heart.

Because inland Gambia is extraordinary. The people I met were some of the kindest I’ve encountered. The wildlife is magical. And the cultural history is deep and moving. But the checkpoints? They ruin it. They turn discovery into dread.

I don’t want to write off The Gambia. I want to shout its praises. But the reality inland makes that difficult. Until this is addressed, it’s hard to recommend venturing beyond the beaches.

Final Thoughts: Seeing the Whole Picture

Travel, for me, isn’t about ticking boxes or perfect postcard moments. It’s about connection. Truth. Witnessing the full reality of a place—not just the curated highlights.

And sometimes, that means writing about something as mundane (and maddening) as checkpoints.

Police corruption in The Gambia is real. It’s damaging. It’s stifling growth in the very places that need tourism the most. But the country isn’t beyond hope—it’s just stuck. And maybe, just maybe, telling stories like this helps start a conversation worth having.

Would I love to return someday and write a piece titled “Why The Gambia Surprised Me (in the Best Way Possible)”?

More than anything.