Entry Two
Hi again to all. Wanted
to update everyone on day five I believe it is. Bintou and I are doing just great, having a ball, and doing tons of cool things.
Part of the fun is the friends and family of Bintou. Bintou is half Senegalese (her father was born in Senegal) and half Sierra
Leonian (Bintou was born in Freetown, founded by former British slaves), and she grew up in Freetown, Sierra Leone. She lost
her husband during the terrible civil war there several years ago. Thanks to the U.N., which I have a renewed respect for,
she was resettled in Senegal and is a citizen of the country. Her cousin is a very bigshot judge here. I saw this firsthand
when my largest suitcase was detained because, apparently, I needed to pay duties on perfumes I brought along. A quick call
or two from the cell phone of Magistrate Francois Diouf and presto, the bag arrived on the next flight from New York unmolested
and with zero tariffs and zero holdups. I was waved through without having to sign a thing, something ONLY a man of great
power in Africa could ever arrange. We all were crazy by the time I arrived in Dakar. Thanks to a freak ice storm in NYC the
plane was two hours late being de-iced. Then upon arrival in Dakar there was much confusion over the lost bag. I was finally
ushered out from the Customs area where I could see a little snatch of the outdoors and instantly spotted my Bintou -- much
jumping up and down from everyone and a pick-her-up-and-spin-her-in-a-hug that I dare any film to equal. The three high points
of my life: Allison's birth, Pullers finally in my hands, and that first hug and kiss with Bintou. What my heart did would
make interesting study in medical journals.
Mustapha is Bintou's brother and he is a serious college student (at Cheikh Anta Diop University in Dakar) full of life,
humor, charisma, and questions. Tina is 5 foot and the life of the party, all laughs and smiles. Adama, also hilarious was
detained today by po-leeces for not having proper papers on hand. That's not a good thing. (Nota Bene: The final chapter
on Adama is not written. Sierra Leonians are known as being a hard-headed, stubborn people among Africans. When Adama came
before the judge she adamantly refused to respond to him at all. Result? Thirty days in the slammer to mull over her silence.
In Dakar, prisoners are barely fed. It is up to friends and families to bring food more than bare subsistence. Needless to
say we received word that Adama wanted us to send food. Bintou is more than upset at Adama for, a: not renewing her papers,
which she could have easily done, and b: being out nightclubbing, it seems, late at night when the police are most likely
to ask for papers.
Nota Bene Two: I find it amusing that the Africans I have met consider Nigerians the Frayserites (a notorious white trash
neighborhood in Memphis) of Africa. When anything goes wrong in Africa, blame the Nigerians. Drugs in Africa, the Nigerians.
Scams on the Internet, blame the Nigerians (there a good deal of truth here. I have received scam emails
from Nigerians.). The spread of AIDS in West Africa, blame the Nigerians. Prostitutes in Dakar, all Nigerians according to
my friends. Yeah, uh-huh, right. By the way, I never saw a prostitute. Bintou told me that they only come out late at night
and are to be found only in the clubs that dispense alcohol. “They are too shamed to be seen in the daytime,”
Bintou told me. “Also the police would not allow them.”
My friends were all a-wonder at my panicking over being in the sun
at Goree Island too long. Thing is they have never experienced sunburn or anyone WITH sunburn and they were quite fascinated
that I turned lobster red. But it is okay. By some miracle my sunburn faded quickly and never caused me pain. Bintou was wide-eyed
when I told her to feel my face and she touched it and felt the heat sensation. “Eet eeze ‘ot, Tom,” she
said incredulously.
Food -- a favorite subject of mine is great here, but different, as you might imagine. Breakfast comes with instant Nescafe
and great gobs of powdered milk and sugar. It is the national drink, sold everywhere and advertised everywhere. It is an acquired
taste, one which I did not acquire. 'amburgers, are good but come with fries on the burger along with a fried egg. Just
like in Pulp Fiction they eat mayonnaise with fries and my reaction was the same as Samuel L. Jackson's. A favorite dish
is black snapper fried or cooked in a variety of ways. I intend to treat the gang to a pizza this week, a rare and expensive
delicacy here and one we ALL are looking forward to.
Yesterday I was taken to the almost bush out of the city to Bintou's uncle, whom they all refer to as “father.”
He is one of the family elders and teaches math at the local university. I was presented to the family to discuss very seriously
my intentions and no man has ever had a better poker face than “father.” He spoke very little English and Mustapha,
Bintou’s brother, translated. It would be high comedy for you readers, but trust me no job interview ever made me more
nervous. Especially when Bintuo’s auntie began to talk to Bintou very roughly and Bintou had tears running down her
cheeks, refusing to look any one of us in the eye. I thought uh-oh, I am a dead man, the auntie doesn’t approve of me.
But later I found out the auntie was laying down the law to Bintou that she had better love and obey such a promising man.
All is well.
Today it was again Bintou's turn to get raked over the coals. I registered at our Embassy and an American black lady
lectured me sternly about coming to Dakar and “procuring” a local woman. She forcefully told Bintou to leave us
so that we might talk alone and I got THE LECTURE. You know -- the scam artists, con men (and women), AIDS, the marry and
leave 'ems, the bring-the-whole-family-to-America thing -- all of which I have heard a thousand times in the last year.
It is very interesting to me that in this instance my nationality played a far stronger role in the situation than my race.
A black woman telling another black woman rudely to go away and relating far more to me as a fellow American. The Embassy
worker was so conscientious that she even gave me her cell phone number in case I ran into any trouble. But just as Bintou's
family has her interests at heart, so have the American Embassy workers who are RIGHT all too often about such matters. However,
a woman (Bintou) who walks blocks away with a cast on her leg after her taxi cab accident to write me every day -- something
NO American woman I know would do for me -- sorry ladies, you know I speak the truth -- doesn't have to prove much else
to me. Oh, in Memphis Bintou and I will attract some stares, but can you imagine the pair of us walking into a restaurant
together? Life is good. Life is fun, and people, from today's vantage I advise you to roll those dice when life offers
you the chance. All my elderly advisors have told me that in life you regret far more what you didn't do. This roll of
the dice turned up sevens, which incidentally is my birth date 7 and 7. Bintou's is 10 and 10.
Life will never be the same, thank
God. Remember John Reed's book, 10 Days That Shook the World -- these 10 days will be shaking my world from now on.
Peace, Love, and
Kontan (happiness in Wolof)
Tom with Bintou beside me
