Entry Number Five

Dear All:

I will be sending individual messages to all when I arrive on Sunday, March 28th, in Memphis. Bintou and I are both dreading the moment I depart. Could I actually live here? With Bintou and her family, if I made a respectable American salary, you better believe I could. Dakar, for all its great clash of modern world with African tradition is a remarkably civilized world. We were sitting on a bench in the downtown area when a well-robed Muslim, old, an elder, walked by and shook everyone's hand in greeting, except for Bintou. With her he made a friendly gesture and smiled at her and moved on. Occasionally I can be quick-witted and I figured out he was a prominent Muslim of some sort who was not allowed to shake the hands of women. I was right. This sounds awful and sexist, which it is, but what impressed me was the absolute respect he took care to display to Bintou anyway. Civilized.

If anyone ever wants a good price on a car I will tell you Bintou can be hired as a bargainer. I have yet to see her NOT get her price. No Arab trader ever bargained harder for anything than Bintou -- the master negotiator. She turns from the sweetest, funniest lady in Africa to Xena, African warrior princess, the Henry Kissinger from hell, in a heartbeat. Grown men weep to see her coming. Almost nothing in this city is sold at the posted price (only gold and groceries). Everything is negotiable, even the taxi fares. Bintou has practically spit on some of the taxi drivers, waved flippantly in their faces, and stormed off only to have them open the cab door as a sign of surrender. I've now witnessed this a hundred times and I still stand and stare.

People, this is a bulletin. Gold here is dirt cheap. I would say that full 18 karat gold is about one fourth the price of American.

Our guest house is three doors down from Senegal's biggest star's club -- Yossou n' Dour. Alas, the club is being renovated. No one here knows much of Elvis, the Beatles, or the Rolling Stones. Rock music just doesn't get here and I suppose never has. However, Senegalese love almost all the black artists you can name and Bob Marley here is practically a saint. Friend Tina and I had a great time the other night singing Buffalo Soldiers.

Those who think girls over here are unsophisticated, from the bush, and troll for American husbands could not be more wrong. I knew Bintou was from a prominent family but I didn't know how prominent. Her late father owned a fleet of fishing vessels and had money. The second son, her uncle, is called “father” by the whole family. Get this: he was the Director of Senelec, the power and utilities company not for just Dakar but for all Senegal. Imagine Memphis Light, Gas, and Water times ten and you get the idea. He has given his blessing to us and the home village is as we speak celebrating for us. Tom and Bintou are taken with the most serious seriousness.

Her cousin, which is where currently she resides, is one of the top judges in Senegal. A very big man.

Bintou, to my blur of tears, will not be able to come home with me -- yet. You would not believe the red tape one must go through to bring a loved one home. Rule one -- you must petition for someone while on American soil, not foreign soil. So I must petition for her in Memphis, then the Embassy here will grill the hell out of her, and upon any whim they can deny her. She has to produce so many forms, such as police clearances, you would not believe. My hope is that she will be able to come as soon as June, but it could be as late as next fall. Keep your fingers crossed.

I am so used to long emails with Bintou every day that I don't feel right without doing them, thus these long emails to you. Some who thought I haven't done much writing lately should know that in the last year Bintou and I have written enough back and forth to fill up twelve volumes of my novel Pullers. How about that folks?

Well, I love writing to you all, and I love and Bintou loves your email responses. This also will serve as a record of sorts I suppose. However, so much happens so fast and furiously that it is very hard to recall things. And like Travolta sez in Pulp Fiction what you remember most are the little things.

Here is to the little things in life. May we all have ones like these of the ten days that shook my world.

When I'm home I will probably have to declare ten kinds of bankruptcy. But oh the riches this trip has wrought. There is gold at the end of the rainbow my friends. Follow that rainbow is my advice.

So long for now.

Tom and Bintou