Never mind that there's no work to do because if there was I probably couldn't cope. I have enough to deal with just trying to cope with everyday life. On Saturday night I went to a local club near Manjai with my Gambian friends. It's a ghetto club where the young people who can't afford to go to Senegambia go to dance. The music's really good, it's cheap, it's outside under a canopy in the dark; it's definitely my kind of place. Everyone was Gambian and I was the only white person there. I didn't care, I felt comfortable and I was enjoying myself. I was dancing with lots of people including the owner's young daughter who was serving beer from behind the bar despite being only 9 years old. As I left the club I was waiting alone in the street for my friends to catch me up. I was texting on my phone when a man ran up to me and grabbed it out of my hand and run off round the corner. It was really dark and I didn't see him coming. Someone asked if I was OK and I whimpered 'No that man just stole my phone.' At which point a whole gang of people went chasing after him but he was long gone. I later discovered that my purse was missing along with my brand new Alien ID card which cost D1500 and one of my friends who went chasing after the thief managed to fall over and lose his shoes in the process. Unfortunately they were my shoes. It was a costly night all in all.

I went to the police station in Banjul on Monday as it's near my office. The police there didn't seem to know what to do with me - 'What do you want to do? File a report?!?'

'Ummm…Yes please. I was robbed. Isn't that what normally happens?'

'You can't do that here. It didn't happen here. You should have reported it on Saturday in Manjai.'

'Well I'm reporting it to you now so can you tell me what I need to do next please.'

The man in charge pointed at a confused young officer and told him to take me to Manjai Police Station. 'Don't worry we'll look after you.' he said.

The young officer told me we'd have to go to the garage to get a van. I asked him why we had to use public transport and why we couldn't just go in one of the police cars that were lined up outside the police station going nowhere. 'It's not time to close so they are not moving' he said. Of course not, silly me. I forgot police vehicles in The Gambia can only be used for taking officers home from work and not for taking victims of crime to police stations.

'Do you have any money?' I asked the policeman 'Because I don't have enough money for us both to get the van.' He shook his head. 'Didn't they give you any money to take us?' He shook his head. Of course not, silly me. I was annoyed until he said, 'Let us go to the bank and I'll see if I have any money in my account so I can pay our fare. I want to do you a favour and take you as it's very bad someone stole from you and this should not happen.' Bless him. I knew he probably couldn't afford it and wouldn't get the money back so I thanked him and told him I'd take myself to Manjai Police Station in the morning.

The next day I lay in bed after my alarm went off thinking I don't know where Manjai is. I don't know how to get there. I don't want to go. I want to stay in bed. Sometimes it just seems so difficult to have to do these things all on your own in another country. I want my mum.

3 hours later I stepped up to Manjai Police Station and greeted the policeman in Wolof. I told him why I was there and he looked upset for me.

'No, no, no, this is very bad. This shouldn't happen. Come with me.'

The staff all greeted me in Wolof and I tried my best to answer. Some young men, who were locked up behind bars in the corner of the room, thought this was highly amusing.

'Toubab, Yangi kuul?' (Stranger, Are you cool?), they asked me.

'Waaw, Mangi kuul' (Yes, I'm cool,) I replied.

They sniggered then started badgering me for their breakfast. It was quite entertaining to be harassed by prisoners in Wolof first thing in the morning.

I explained what had happened and wrote a statement on a piece of blank paper. 'This is very very good' said the policeman. 'Now I will give it to the detective to investigate, as this is a case and it needs to be looked into.'

Detective Bojang, warned me against going to local clubs. 'That's where all the criminals hang out.' He said.

'But I really like the music.' I said.

He said, 'I know you like the music but you are vulnerable there on your own as you are white and people will watch you and wait for you to be alone before taking advantage of you. Where were your friends?'

Everyone is astounded that my friends didn't protect me whilst I'm sure most of my friends in England would agree I'm quite difficult to protect. My Gambian friends are, in fact, ashamed and worried about what their nearest and dearest will think when they find out this happened to me whilst in their company.

Detective Bojang gave me his phone number and told me he'd be in touch once he'd completed his investigation and written his report. I left, politely telling the prisoners, 'Mangee dem ligeey ci Banjul' (I'm going to work in Banjul), which they thought was hilarious, and I went back to my office via bush taxi feeling proud of myself.