The Drop-Off

Feb. 3, 2011
The Drop-Off
Place d'Independence
Molly, Nina, and John (and the mysterious twin)

Today we had the Drop-Off, a very exiting immersion exercise in which students are literally shoved into a taxi with 6000 francs in our hands and an urban destination on our lips.
“La Place d'Independence” we shouted to the driver, and off we went bouncing along in a rickety old Renault with a cracked windshield. When we arrived at our destination, which turned out to be the busiest spot in the whole city, we were taken aback by the speed and confusion of the midday traffic. No sooner had we reached the curb than we were accosted by no less than 3 different men all trying to sell us something of little or no value. One of them, a tall slender man in a denim suit and dark glasses, immediately latched on to Nina and began to coax her towards a shop in the distance where he claimed he would giver her his business card. I'm sure we must have looked like pretty stupid wandering around with no particular destination in mind and stunned expression on our pale faces, but I really don't know how he expected us to follow him down a narrow street just for a business card. Fed up and altogether uneasy, Molly and I began to walk away hoping that Nina would soon follow and leave the man to his tawdry scams.

“Hey,” Nina shouted, “could you guys not leave me here please?”

I understood that she didn't want to be rude, but this was not the time to entertain the whims of street vendors. Grabbing her by the hand we apologized to Mr. Denim jacket made our way to a business plaza across the way. The square was relatively quiet so we decided to review our list of objectives for the day and form a game plan. Suddenly the man appeared again, although this time he had removed his sunglasses and held his denim jacket behind his back. He presented himself as if he were a completely different person and even went so far as so say that he had a twin who sometimes wandered around this part of Dakar. To my embarrassment, it actually took me a full five minutes to realize that he was the same man and when I did I felt quite betrayed. Still, he showed no signs of wanting to leave us alone and we had beaucoup de questions to ask for our assignment so we gave it a shot.
“Who's the president of Senegal?” we asked. “Whats the dominant political party? Who's the prime minister?” and so on...

He answered politely, albeit inaccurately, and puffed out his chest in pride. But after he ran out of answers we realized that it was going to be even harder to get rid of him. He seemed intent on giving us a tour of the city. I told him “thank you but we need have to leave now,” and we started to walk away. He asked us where we were going so I told him we were going to the market. I hoped he would take the hint and let us leave. Instead he said that he too was going to the market and would walk us there as a favor. According to him, that was just the Senegalese way. “We're nice people. It's what we do.”

Not knowing what else to do, we walked with him into the city's largest open air market. He kept trying to pull us into different booths or alleyways but we refused each time, all the while speaking our very best french so as not to appear ignorant. But as the minutes past and the conversation dragged on he became more attached to us and we looked all the helpless. Several times we told him directly that we no longer desired his company but he was incredibly persistent. Finally he tried to drag us into the old historic indoor market, at which point we refused point blank and walked the other way. He chased after us and in desperation demanded that we take him somewhere and buy him a coke. In a final attempt to escape we ducked into a small shoe shop, but he simply stood outside and waited for us to emerge.

In the safety of the shop, we planned our escape route. It seemed the only solution was to walk past him and keep walking until he left us alone. The only problem with this plan was that we had no idea where we were and no idea where to go. We braced ourselves and left the shop in the general direction from which we had come. The man caught up to us and walk ahead facing backwards as he did so. He seemed furious. He went on and on about how he had shown us around and been so nice to us and no we should repay his kindness by taking to a cafe and buying him a coke. He was shouting now and making quite the scene. Everyone in the market was looking at us. Molly had the idea of telling him she had no money and, to prove it, she emptied the contents of her purse, a mere 25 franc coin (the equivalent of an American nickel). This appeared to insult him deeply. He slapped the coin out of Molly's hand and clapped his own hand to his head in disbelief. “C'est quoi ça?” he shouted. “Jamais!!”
I apologized briefly and pulled the others away. At this he lunged out and grabbed my arm. That's when I realized that we really had to leave. I resolved to break away and walk in the other direction without stopping or looking back.

Just then another man from the market ran over and shouted at the first man. He appeared to be defending us, but when he too grabbed my arm I decided we had better just make an exit. I tore away from both of them and we made our escape. The two men stood on the street corner shouting into each other's faces. I still don't know who the second man was or what his motives were but it was lucky he showed up.

The three of us spent the rest of the day trying to justify our actions and reactions to fiasco in the market. Naturally we were all very upset. The man had been quite rude. Surely we had no obligation to accompany a man to his shop to get his business card. And imagine the audacity to approach the same group of foreigners and pretend to be another person. Imagine, a twin! But we didn't want to be rude. We tried several times to give him the slip but he wouldn't take a hint. He must have known that we were uncomfortable with the city and the language. It was really quite cruel of him to take advantage us. Still Nina and Molly felt guilty, though they felt a little better when I pointed out that the man had praised Senegalese hospitality and then demanded money for his unrequested services. Mostly we felt bad about being “those Toubabs” who screw everything up for the locals.

In hindsight, I realize we made all the classic mistakes. We engaged in conversation. We continued conversation. We asked him questions and gave him multiple opportunities to do favors for us. We followed him. And we admitted to our ignorance our surroundings. We probably should have called him out on the twin ploy. Going along with it only encouraged him.

A better tactic would have been to ignore him, or pretend we knew more than we did. Smiling seems to be a great way of diffusing attention. Its easy for venders to tell when someone is tense or nervous. A happy countenance is essential to blending in. Next time will surely be better.