Day 5 Last Day in Saint-Louis

Today is my last full day in Saint-Louis. Tomorrow I will take a bush taxi back to Dakar. For all those who are worrying about me, tomorrow is the day to worry (but PLEASE don't!) The danger in west Africa certainly isn't violent crime and, at least in Saint-Louis, pickpocketing. People here have been respectful of my personal space. They would rather attempt to separate you from your money through (by our standards) persistent, manipulative business transactions. But those are pretty easily avoided once you figure out how things work, how to bargain and realize that the shops have marked, fixed prices that are very reasonable, whereas the people on the street will try to get as much out of you as they can.

No. The danger in west Africa is much more mundane - things like mechanical breakdowns and traffic accidents. So tomorrow I will be in the most danger as I will be taking a bush taxi. Given what I have seen of the taxis here, most seem put together from spare parts. They seem to run okay but have a lot of flat tires. Now, I know next to nothing about cars. I don't even own a car. So it will be difficult to evaluate how road worthy a bush taxi is, but I can certainly check out the tires. I am bringing spare water and a few packaged cookies in case it turns out to be a longer trip than expected. So I will pay my bill tonight, take a local taxi to the Gare Routiére and leave for Dakar tomorrow morning. I have a room at a mid-priced hotel in the centre of town all reserved.

I told myself I wasn't going to buy any souvenirs on this trip. Well, "any" became "many" and now I have a space problem. So I walked back over the Eiffel bridge to the African market to buy a gym bag to throw the extra stuff in. (Even with the gym bag I am traveling very light.) I found my bag and paid 5 000 francs ($10US) for it. As I walked away I thought I would take a picture of the market where I made the purchase, pulled out my camera but before I could take my picture the crowd yelled "NON!". I am sure I had a sheepish look on my face as I put the camera away and said "Désolé" (Sorry!) and started to walk on. A pretty woman dressed in traditional clothes with a headscarf walking ahead of me giggled and said to me in French "They didn't like that." I laughed and said "Certainly not". She said "They probably wanted you to pay them to be in your picture." "Ahhhh..." That makes sense. The conversation itself was striking as it was the first time a woman initiated a conversation with me.

The store where I bought my souvenirs is near downtown Saint-Louis and is staffed by a very tall, regal looking woman. She is calm, composed but friendly, allowed me to browse and didn't put any pressure on me to buy anything. Now people, I am 100% grade A homosexual. I love women, but not that way. I don't feel a bit of attraction but, my goodness, the women are pretty here. They take good care of themselves and put a lot of work into their appearance. There are piles of an orange sand or powder around town and some women and men seem to have an orange tinge to their faces. I wonder if they are using it as makeup.

There seem to be many more street beggars out today than before. Most are young children, 5-8 years old. They appear to be well fed and show none of the telltale signs of malnutrition but most are absolutely filthy. They are sent out by the mosques to beg for alms and it is part of tradition to drop change in their cans. I don't know if the mosques make these kids look filthy in order to get extra sympathy, but one thing is true. They aren't in school.



There is one man to whom I am tempted to hand over my wallet's contents every time I pass by. He is crippled and walks around town in a sitting position using his hands to drag his body along. He is also filthy and no one talks to him. He is not a beggar. A simple wheelchair could change his life. It's a heartbreaking scene and leads me to see if I can do something through a charity once I get home.