Fleeced?

The end of a busy day and a busy weekend. This weekend was what's known here as 'the long weekend', that is the weekend which marks the divide between one half of a term and the other. This is the one time during the term when most parents will get to see their kids. Parents came from all over Senegal, the Gambia, Mauritania and other countries just to spend the weekend with their children. For the single staff this usually means a chance to get away for a few days and relax on a beach. I went with a group of 10 others to nearby Saly where we spent a refreshing two days in a small tourist resort, occasionally brushing shoulders with one or other of the five BCS families who had also chosen Saly as the venue for their long weekend. It was actually very nice to play in the pool with the kids without the responsibility of having to look after them.

On the Friday afternoon we visited the art market in the village where there were lots of little stalls selling souvenirs from carvings to jewellry to paintings. Shortly after entering this densely packed maze of little shops we were set upon by hordes of Africans inviting us to 'come look my shop!'. I was with a group of four girls and so was naturally asked which one was my wife which caused some amusement. The funniest part was what happened next though. I suddenly felt a strong hand grabbing my wrist and before I knew it I was being dragged away by a big black woman saying 'looky my shop'.

Ten metres away and down a passage I found myself in a cramped little stall faced with hundreds of tourist trinkets, none of which I had any desire to purchase. Next she reached over to part of her display and produced a necklace which she proceded to fasten around my neck with the words 'un petit cadeau'. Before I could refuse it (I don't even like necklaces) she had pulled out a little bench and sat down, pulling on my wrist, still firmly grasped, to join her. At this point I knew I was in the hands of a professional and would leave her humble shop poorer than I entered it. After I had joined her on the bench she got out her fan and started fanning me and encouraging me yet again to view her wares, probably accompanied by some reference to her good prices, I don't remember exactly. I sat in silence, not knowing what to say or do and definitely not wanting to buy anything and so she started showing me individual items.

When she ran out of things within her reach she got a friend to bring down higher items but I continued in my attempt to resist her. At some point I realised I had lost and decided that if I was to spend money I would get something I could use so I pointed at a shaker hanging beside me and asked her what one does with such a thing. She took it down and promptly demonstrated the technique before placing it in my hand so I could have a go. At which point I was assured that this instrument was in fact always played in pairs and I needed two. I sat there with two strange looking shakey things and decided it was time to go for it so I asked how much for just one of them.

She started at 15000 cfa (~£15), I made my fist move, 500 cfa (~50p), she laughed at me (I like to think I drive a hard bargain). She came down to 10000 and placed the second shaker in my lap assuring me that I really needed two. I went up by a few hundred cfa, I think she knew at this point I wasn't going to rise to where she wanted so she changed her method and got her friend to get down another instrument, a type of rattle, this was added to my pile. '5000' she says for the lot, I'm not having it. She starts throwing in bracelets, 'pour ta famile' she claims. I'm getting fed up by this point and want to get out of her shop. So we eventually settle on 3000 cfa, much more than I wanted to pay but I couldn't be bothered any more. I reach in my money belt to find the cash but unfortunately the smallest note I have is a 5000. She readily accepts this and closes her fist tightly on the crumpled note.

'Where's the 2000 change?' I ask. 'My friend will get it for you' she assures me. I look at her friend in the entrance, a slimmer woman but equally capable of fleecing me. My heart sinks. I dutifully follow her out of the shop to the stall next door where again a bench is pulled out and I'm made to join her on it. 'Look my shop' I'm instructed again. I had suspected upon pulling out my 5000 note I would never see my 2000 change and now I knew. This second woman intended to give it to me in the form of goods from her shop. She starts by getting down a small wooden model of a 'car rapide', a very Senegalese mode of transport that all the tourists love because they're so colourfully painted and un-western.

I didn't want a car rapide but this didn't matter by this stage, it would make a good gift back in England and by this point I was aware that the story that would accompany it was going to be a long one. I tried my best to argue in French that this model was not worth my 2000 cfa and so she reached over for a bracelet, this time a thick one that looked like it was made of leather stuffed with something and she fastened it around my wrist. This alone, apparently, was worth more than 2000 cfa; 'Yeah right!' I thought, being the sarcastic Englishman that I am (you realise how much of a cultural stereotype you are when in such an international community).

It seemed like my ordeal was finally over, she wasn't going to give me anything else and I wasn't in the mood for collecting more souvenirs I didn't want so I thanked her, in my polite tourist way, for ripping me off and left her shop, having a close shave with one of her neighbours who also saw me as rich pickings.
The rest of the staff were wondering where I'd got too and I was sad to find that Ruth, who'd also been dragged away by the arm, had come off far better than me, escaping with her free gift and all her money.
Nevertheless, the story amused us all on the journey back to the hotel and hopefully has amused you too. All sarcastic English comments are welcome and appreciated as the sign of affection as which we (culturally) use them.